Tangled Hearts by Heather McCollum Page A

Ewan’s arms tightened around her.
    “Are ye awake?” Ewan whispered.
    She gave the briefest of nods against him and sensed his muscles relax, his breathing slow. Had he worried about her?
    Down the hall he walked, his boots and those of another, probably Searc, clipping along the stone floor. Dory felt his muscles tighten around her, the glorious strength in his step while easily carrying her weight. He pushed into their room and lowered her atop the soft mattress.
    She opened her eyes.
    He stared down at her, lines wrinkling his forehead. “Ye are well? That was all a ruse?”
    Was it? She’d certainly felt dizzy.
    “Of course it was,” she answered and folded her hands across her cinched waist, smiling.
    Ewan didn’t look convinced, but finally shook his head.
    “Completely complicated,” he murmured and turned to Searc to rattle off a long string of Gaelic.
    Searc answered, gave her a brief smile, and left.
    “Where is he going?”
    Ewan poked at the fire to light it again. “To the stables to see what he can find out about yer uncle.”
    She nodded. “I have an uncle.” Though not by blood.
    Ewan turned from the hearth. “So far I’ve confirmed that your mother was a Mereworth before she married John Wellington. With luck, no one knows that Boswell was the one to sire you.”
    “A bastard and daughter of a traitor.” She sighed. It didn’t look like she’d have a good life in England. Once she figured out how to free Captain Bart and Will from the Tower, she’d go back to the Queen Siren . That was her home. Where she belonged, and would be safe. Why, then, did her chest hurt as if she held her breath?
    Ewan sat down next to her where she’d moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
    “We are not our parents,” he said and stared straight ahead. “We make our own choices and control our own actions.” He shifted his gaze without moving his head. “Besides, now ye are Dory Brody.”
    A little laugh came from her and she huffed. “And how is Dory Brody going to get two pirates out of the Tower?”
    Ewan turned his face toward her. He took a long breath, his eyes softening. “I suppose they are yer only family, aren’t they?”
    “The only ones that matter.”
    His eyes were concerned. The scar on his forehead stood out under the short hair framing his strong features, and a small cleft sat in his chin. Would his children carry the same adorable divot?
    “I understand wanting to save family,” he said, those kind eyes hardening with his frown. “It eats at ye, doesn’t it?”
    She nodded. Had he scooted closer? He seemed only a lean away, one little push and she’d feel his lips on her own. A kiss—what would it hurt to have another kiss? Would it be as warm and delicious as the one at Wulfhall?
    She leaned in.
    He stood. Dory would surely have fallen on her face if she hadn’t planted her hands in front of her on the bed. Only then did it register in Dory’s head that someone was knocking on the door. Blast!
    “Who is it?” Ewan demanded.
    “Tilly, m’lord, sent by Lady Pembroke for the king to see how the sweet Pandora fares.”
    Ewan pulled the door open but held a short sword behind it. The tall, kind maid he’d hired to attend her stood there. She glanced in and smiled as if relieved when she saw Dory on the bed.
    Dory slid off and righted her skirts. “Please, Tilly, let the king know I am well, though tired from the shock of finding out I am a Wellington.”
    “She is a Brody now,” Ewan added.
    “I will tell m’lady and she will inform his majesty.” The maid bowed and turned back down the corridor.
    He shut the door and set his short sword by the bed.
    “You act as if we are in hostile territory,” Dory said and padded over to the growing flames to warm her hands.
    “Don’t doubt that we are, lass. The English court is full of venom. Ye either play the part smartly or ye get bitten.”
    “You’ve been here before?”
    “Nay, but I’ve been to Edinburgh to the