Free Highland Warrior by Hannah Howell Page B

potion. His whole body tensed when he realized how close Fiona was now. When she took a deep, unsteady breath, her breasts brushed fleetingly against his chest. He nearly groaned and was not surprised to see that he had brought his hands forward to grasp the table on either side of her. He lifted his head just enough to bring his face even with hers. When she nervously licked her lips, he felt his belly clench with the strength of his desire.
    “Do ye think ’tis her potion for scars?” he asked softly.
    “Nay.” Fiona fisted her hands tightly at her sides, fighting the nearly overwhelming urge to wrap her arms around him.
    “They arenae so verra bad.”
    When he brushed his lips over one of the scars on her cheeks, Fiona trembled. She turned her head slightly, intending to speak, only to find her lips brushing over his. He made an odd, strangled noise, and suddenly she found herself held firmly in his arms. She did not hesitate to wrap her arms around his neck. The heat of his soft lips against hers went rushing through her whole body. The feelings assailing her made her weak in the knees and she clung to him more tightly.
    The first nudge of his tongue against her lips was all the persuasion she needed to open her mouth. He growled softly as he invaded her mouth with his tongue. With each stroke of his tongue, Fiona felt her need for him grow.
    Then, abruptly, she was released. Fiona gripped the edge of the table tightly to keep her trembling body from sagging to the ground. The heat of desire was clear to see in Ewan’s stormy gray eyes, but he looked utterly dismayed.
    “I shouldnae have done that,” he said, his deep voice hoarse and a little unsteady. “It willnae happen again,” he added in a stronger voice before striding away.
    Fiona took several deep breaths to steady herself as she stared in the direction he had gone. She now had the proof that he was as attracted to her as she was to him. It was also clear that he did not want to be, was determined to fight it. A slow smile curved her still kiss-warmed lips as she brushed down her skirts. Every instinct she had told her that Ewan MacFingal was her match, her soul mate. If the man thought he could escape that fate, she was ready and able to show him otherwise.

Chapter 6
    “Where is Sir Ewan?”
    Fiona ignored the faint smile on Gregor’s handsome face. For three days she had done her best to keep herself as close to Ewan as possible. With each day he had grown more elusive. She was beginning to fear she was wrong, that the kiss they had shared had not moved him as strongly as it had her. Worse, he might have simply uttered empty flattery when he had told her the scars upon her cheeks were not so dreadful. Men might boast of their own scars, but they did not like to see such marks upon a woman.
    “He rode out an hour ago,” replied Gregor. “Took six men with him. Intended to look for signs of the Grays.”
    She scowled at the gates Ewan had escaped through. “The question is, is he fleeing from me or his father?” she muttered.
    “Both,” Gregor replied and laughed when she blushed.
    “Ewan isnae one for the lasses, ye ken,” said Nathan, his blue eyes alight with laughter. “If ye mean to catch him, ye will have to run verra fast.”
    For one brief moment, Fiona considered soundly denying Nathan’s implication, then sighed. He would never believe her. It was embarrassing that Ewan’s brothers had guessed her game, but they could also prove useful. They certainly revealed no dislike of her plans and she found some comfort in that.
    “What do ye mean when ye say that Ewan isnae one for the lasses?” she asked Nathan. “He doesnae like women?”
    “Och, he likes them weel enough. His fierce looks tend to make the lasses turn away and he has no skill at wooing.”
    “Tis the scar, is it?” When both Gregor and Nathan nodded, she shook her head in disgust. “My brother is scarred and that didnae stop our Gilly from thinking him verra