Free The Bold Heart (The Highland Heather and Hearts Scottish Romance Series) by Carmen Caine Page B

embers, he didn’t look like a lad at all! The curve of the lad’s throat was downright womanly!
    And his eyes were unusually expressive.  Deep, liquid, brown eyes that seemed to read his soul.
    Ewan dropped his gaze to the soft wreath of black curls framing the youth’s face. A particularly large curl lay against the nape of his neck, a neck with an unusually seductive curve.
    With his frown deepening, Ewan shook his head in an attempt to clear it.
    Tricks of the firelight, that’s what it was, nothing more.
    And then the lad bit his lip. They were full, rosy lips.
    Rubbing his suddenly aching forehead, Ewan made his mind up all at once. The lad had to go. At once. Before he lost all sense of reason.
    At first, he’d promised to escort the youth to Stirling. But after his first confusing encounters, he’d shortened it to the Scottish Border.  But even that seemed too far now. He much preferred to be rid of the lad sooner.
    Mayhap one of the men had procured coin enough to pay the youth and send him on his way at morningtide. ‘Twas a bit callous but most likely safer for the youth in the end. After all, the patrols weren’t searching for a lone lad.
    And none could deny that the battlefield was too grim a place for such a gentle soul.
    A hand fell on Ewan’s shoulder and he glanced up, surprised to find Alec stooping over him.
    “And ye?” the man asked with a teasing grin. “What do ye wish for in a lass, Ewan?”
    Ewan raised a brow, surprised the conversation had gone a full circle, but even more astonished that Alec would ask him that particular question. The man knew the answer right well.
    Dropping his gaze to Alec’s hand still resting on his shoulder, he muttered thickly, “Move your hand, lest ye lose it.”
    Alec merely squeezed his fingers tighter in an obvious gesture of comfort. Then lowering his voice, he murmured, “Iona is not a fitting match for ye, Ewan, even though she be my kin. Ye deserve true love. Aye, mayhap fate has a say—”
    “Love is pointless. ‘Tis a dream, nothing more,” Ewan answered flatly.
    “Nay, I—” Alec began earnestly.
    “Enough!” Ewan grimly cut him short.  And rising to his feet, he quitted the smoke-filled hovel and headed out into the darkness.
    Taking the rough stone path leading into the forest, he leaned against the trunk of a tree, and snapping a twig off a thick branch, idly began plucking the leaves.  He didn’t think for a time. He merely stared out unseeing into the darkness, listening only to the soft pit-pat of the rain on the leaves overhead.
    And then his lips formed a name.  Iona.  Iona Hepburn.
    He hadn’t thought of her in months.
    Having grown weary of his son’s lack of progress in wedding to produce an heir, the Earl of Mull had taken matters into his own hands the year before. He had promised Ewan’s hand to Iona Hepburn, cousin to both Alec as well as Archibald Douglas, the Earl of Angus and Lord Warden of the Eastern March. Ewan had met her on occasion, and for the most part, struggled to recall anything about her except a vague memory of a fiery temper and red hair to match.
    Much to his father’s consternation, he hadn’t explicitly agreed to the betrothal.
    But he hadn’t objected either.
    And as time passed, both families had begun to plan the wedding, assuming his silence meant tacit approval.  He himself wasn’t sure. He had felt nothing about the entire matter.
    But then, he rarely felt anything anymore. The truth was that he’d lost interest in women altogether of late.

    Clenching his jaw, he tossed the stripped twig aside.
    Aye, and that was why his fascination with the lad was so bothersome.
    Determined to see his plan through, he headed back to the cottage. The lad would be sent packing in the morning and that would be the end of it.
    Stepping inside, he returned to his spot next to the fire.
    The conversation had turned to the topic of hunting, and Alec sat on the three-legged stool, relating the tale of