A Fierce Archer (Clan Ross Book 6) by Hildie McQueen (best story books to read .TXT) 📗

Ewan diverted toward the side gardens. There could be some people milling about there, but at least it would not be as loud. He was not ready to retire to his room, much too excited still at what had transpired. There was so much to consider: the building, selecting men, purchasing of livestock, not to mention hiring staff.

“Oh.”

The word brought Ewan out of his musings. He reached for the person he’d bumped into.

“I apologize...” He stopped midsentence at seeing who it was.

Catriona’s rounded eyes matched her open mouth. “I-I came for fresh air. I thought ye were inside.”

“Obviously, I am not.” He turned away.

“Wait.”

Ewan didn’t fully turn, just his head. “What is it?”

“I am sorry for the loss of yer father.”

Instead of a reply, he gave her a curt nod.

“And...”

He let out a breath and waited for her to continue, not bothering to face her.

“Ye will make an excellent laird.”

He turned. Stalking toward her, like an animal of prey, he expected the only way to stop his progress would be her asking. Instead, she met his gaze, tilting her face up, her lips parting.

When his mouth crashed over hers, Catriona grabbed his tunic, her hands clenching the fabric as if it were the only way she could keep from falling.

In his arms, she felt perfect, soft and yielding, just like he’d remembered every single day since leaving. And exactly what he’d fought hard to forget.

She was not to be his. Ewan took her shoulders and pushed her backward gently.

“This must never happen again.”

Catriona’s chest heaved, her lips enticingly swollen by his kiss. “We were friends once.”

“Were we? Enjoy the fresh air.” Ewan walked away, needing space between them. Upon his return, he would have to hurry the building of his new home so he could move away.

Without looking, he knew she was watching him walk away. For whatever reason, it felt good that he did not give her the satisfaction knowing how much she’d hurt him. Yes, it was immature of him, but self-preservation was much more important than whether or not he hurt Catriona’s feelings.

Chapter Fourteen

Fraser Keep

“Flora.” Lady Fraser stood by the fence waiting for her to respond.

“Lady Fraser.” Flora straightened from the row of plantings she’d been tending to and lowered her head. “What can I do for ye?”

The woman was kind and a good mistress of the house. Every day, she would appear at the kitchen to speak with the cook and maids and give instructions for the day’s meals. She would visit the launderess to ensure all was well. She also met with the chambermaids and lads regularly to do the same.

After Catriona left, Flora had requested and gotten a position there at the keep, without a clear capacity as yet. Her mother had taken ill as of late and could not remain back at the village caring not only for Flora’s son, but the small cottage as well.

Nearing the woman, Flora did her best not to get her hopes up. With Catriona gone, her duties as companion had ended and she did what she could to help around the keep.

“Ye have been working hard,” Lady Fraser began. “It has not gone unnoticed how much ye do here.”

“I do what I can to be helpful. It falls on me to provide for my mother and son.”

The clouds parted, allowing the sun to shine down, warming her back as she waited for whatever Lady Fraser had decided. Flora chose, in that moment, to see it as a good sign.

Lady Fraser motioned for Flora to come out of the garden. “Walk with me.”

The request surprised her, but it boded well, perhaps. So, wiping her hands as clean as she could with a cloth, Flora hurried to do as told.

They walked in the unhurried pace that most nobles seemed to prefer. Lady Fraser looked toward where the guards were practicing.

“I need ye to consider something,” Lady Fraser began. “Are ye averse to marrying again?”

The question caught Flora by surprise. Marriage was not something she’d thought about much. Sure, every once in a while, a handsome guard caught her eye. Some nights, her body craved a man’s touch. But she’d been much too busy to think about marriage.

“I suppose I am not.”

Lady Fraser’s face brightened. “It would alleviate some of yer burden. Ye are young and pretty. There is no reason for ye to remain alone.”

Flora looked to the field where the men continued to practice. “Who do ye have in mind, Lady Fraser?”

The woman followed her line of sight. “Keithen’s friend. He needs a wife and I feel that he and ye would be a good match.”

“Who?” Flora turned once again to the field.

“Broden McRainy. Ye must know him.”

Immediately, the warrior came into focus. He was sparring against another man, his arms and face glistening with perspiration. In the sun, his hair was almost blond, the tresses pulled back into a queue with a leather strap. Flora had noticed him many times, but had never spoken to him.

A few times, he’d come to visit Catriona during the recovery time, and it was only then that Flora had observed him up close. He and Catriona had known each other for most of their lives and had a relationship like that of siblings.

“Why do ye think he needs to marry?” Flora finally asked.

“He has stated it himself. But then he does little to move forward. Before he makes a mistake and marries am unsuitable woman, I have decided to intervene.”

“Ye must care deeply for him that ye wish to find him a suitable wife,” Flora stated.

Lady Fraser smiled in the warrior’s direction. “Aye. He has been close to our family. He was practically raised here at the keep.”

“He seems highborn. I am but