coin to be had. Let the men use one of them.”
“Or woo a lass, as my father does?” Ewan found he was curious about her opinion of his father.
“Ah, weel, mayhap.” Seeing that he had finished his drink, Fiona set the tankard down, then turned slightly so that she was seated more comfortably on the edge of the bed as she faced him. “There is a part of me that thinks a woman who allows her virtue to be stolen by nay more than pretty words and a bonnie smile deserves whatever trouble befalls her. Yet, another part of me thinks any mon who steals a lass’s virtue with lies and walks away, leaving her to suffer whate’er consequences there may be, ought to be punished.” She shrugged. “Contrary of me, I ken it. Yet, too often, that rogue has just robbed that lass of the only thing of value she might have. Tis the lying to get what one wants that angers me, I am thinking.”
“Women lie to get what they want, too.”
“Aye, and that isnae any better.” She clasped her hands together in her lap and readied herself to ask a question she could no longer hold back. “Why was your father painted blue?”
It took Ewan a moment to grasp the abrupt change of subject, then he inwardly grimaced. When Fiona had made no mention of how his father had looked, Ewan had hoped she intended to simply ignore it. He had the feeling she had tried, but how could anyone really ignore a man who had blue markings over every bit of skin one could see? Fiona was clever enough to guess that those markings were also undoubtedly all over the skin one could not see.
“The moon is full tonight,” he replied, then cursed softly when she just stared at him, her expression making it clear that she wanted a better explanation than that. “My father and several other men paint their bodies that way at every full moon and go out to dance about in the circle of stones. Naked.”
“What does your priest have to say about such heathenish acts?”
“That old fool is right out there dancing with them.”
Fiona told herself it would be unkind to laugh. Poor Ewan was clearly humiliated by his father’s behavior. “Old Iain has already been out there.”
“Aye, he just likes to leap about out there. He willnae put on the blue paint until the moon is full.”
“I see.” She was not surprised to hear the strain in her voice as the need to laugh was swiftly breaking all restraints she had put on it. “Why?”
“My father heard a tale that claimed the ancients used to do it to ask the gods to make them stronger and fiercer in battle, and…” He hesitated, deeply reluctant to finish.
“And what?”
“More virile.”
Fiona clapped a hand over her mouth and stared down at the bedclothes. She could feel the laughter shaking her body and clapped her other hand over her mouth as well. It was rude, perhaps even a little cruel to laugh, but how could one not laugh? The image of a group of aging men, painted blue and cavorting naked beneath a full moon, was, quite simply, hilarious. She choked a little as she struggled valiantly, but finally collapsed against the bedcovers in a fit of laughter.
At least she isnae horrified or afraid , Ewan mused. He briefly wondered if he ought to take offense, if only out of respect for his father, then shrugged the thought aside. What the man planned to do tonight was ridiculous. He would find it funny, too, if it did not cause so much trouble by feeding the rumors of witchcraft. After a moment, he started to smile, finding her laughter infectious.
As her laughter eased, Fiona sat up only to discover that she had edged closer to Ewan. Their faces were but inches apart. He was smiling and she wondered if he had any idea of how handsome he was. When his smile began to fade, she tensed, wondering which way he would turn this time. Would he pull her close or push her away? She wished the man would make up his mind about what he wanted from her. The way he was warm one minute and cold the next was proving a
“Or woo a lass, as my father does?” Ewan found he was curious about her opinion of his father.
“Ah, weel, mayhap.” Seeing that he had finished his drink, Fiona set the tankard down, then turned slightly so that she was seated more comfortably on the edge of the bed as she faced him. “There is a part of me that thinks a woman who allows her virtue to be stolen by nay more than pretty words and a bonnie smile deserves whatever trouble befalls her. Yet, another part of me thinks any mon who steals a lass’s virtue with lies and walks away, leaving her to suffer whate’er consequences there may be, ought to be punished.” She shrugged. “Contrary of me, I ken it. Yet, too often, that rogue has just robbed that lass of the only thing of value she might have. Tis the lying to get what one wants that angers me, I am thinking.”
“Women lie to get what they want, too.”
“Aye, and that isnae any better.” She clasped her hands together in her lap and readied herself to ask a question she could no longer hold back. “Why was your father painted blue?”
It took Ewan a moment to grasp the abrupt change of subject, then he inwardly grimaced. When Fiona had made no mention of how his father had looked, Ewan had hoped she intended to simply ignore it. He had the feeling she had tried, but how could anyone really ignore a man who had blue markings over every bit of skin one could see? Fiona was clever enough to guess that those markings were also undoubtedly all over the skin one could not see.
“The moon is full tonight,” he replied, then cursed softly when she just stared at him, her expression making it clear that she wanted a better explanation than that. “My father and several other men paint their bodies that way at every full moon and go out to dance about in the circle of stones. Naked.”
“What does your priest have to say about such heathenish acts?”
“That old fool is right out there dancing with them.”
Fiona told herself it would be unkind to laugh. Poor Ewan was clearly humiliated by his father’s behavior. “Old Iain has already been out there.”
“Aye, he just likes to leap about out there. He willnae put on the blue paint until the moon is full.”
“I see.” She was not surprised to hear the strain in her voice as the need to laugh was swiftly breaking all restraints she had put on it. “Why?”
“My father heard a tale that claimed the ancients used to do it to ask the gods to make them stronger and fiercer in battle, and…” He hesitated, deeply reluctant to finish.
“And what?”
“More virile.”
Fiona clapped a hand over her mouth and stared down at the bedclothes. She could feel the laughter shaking her body and clapped her other hand over her mouth as well. It was rude, perhaps even a little cruel to laugh, but how could one not laugh? The image of a group of aging men, painted blue and cavorting naked beneath a full moon, was, quite simply, hilarious. She choked a little as she struggled valiantly, but finally collapsed against the bedcovers in a fit of laughter.
At least she isnae horrified or afraid , Ewan mused. He briefly wondered if he ought to take offense, if only out of respect for his father, then shrugged the thought aside. What the man planned to do tonight was ridiculous. He would find it funny, too, if it did not cause so much trouble by feeding the rumors of witchcraft. After a moment, he started to smile, finding her laughter infectious.
As her laughter eased, Fiona sat up only to discover that she had edged closer to Ewan. Their faces were but inches apart. He was smiling and she wondered if he had any idea of how handsome he was. When his smile began to fade, she tensed, wondering which way he would turn this time. Would he pull her close or push her away? She wished the man would make up his mind about what he wanted from her. The way he was warm one minute and cold the next was proving a
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