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

heels.
    “’Twas a right foolishly absurd thing to do!” Ewan thundered, his eyes flashing with raw emotion. “The English could have caught ye, or even worse, left ye dead on the road!”
    Merry drew herself to her full height. “I was in no danger,” she said, locking her jaw. “They’re not looking for me.”
    He threw back the hood of his mud-spattered cloak and stood there, angry, solid, his shrewd blue eyes locking onto hers. The English soldier had been right to warn her of the escapees. There was no doubt that Ewan was a dangerous, battle-hardened man.
    “There were many eyes who saw ye ride through Carlisle’s gates,” he objected through clenched teeth. “And if even not, there would be plenty who would stop ye on the road, thinking ye stole your master’s horse.”
    “Diabhul can outrun any of them,” she retorted, but swallowed. She couldn’t tell him just how exactly true his words were. Instead, she stooped and picked up an armful of clothing, and eyeing Ewan’s plaid peeking out from under his cloak, said, “Ye’d best change. They’re looking for Scots.”
    “’Tis better than a monk’s robe,” Alec said, stepping forward with a supportive nod.
    As he and Lothar ruffled through the pile, Ewan stayed where he was, arms crossed and jaw clenched.
    And then Lothar began shrugging out of his shirt, and Merry hastily retreated to the window under the pretense of standing guard.
    “I’ll stand watch,” she volunteered.
    The men changed quickly, and then Alec commented, “Few will stop us now, dressed so daintily as English soldiers, aye?”
    “’Tis a brilliant idea, lad,” Lothar grunted in approval.
    Half-turning, Merry cast a furtive glance from the side of her lashes, and satisfied they were fully dressed, turned to face them.
    The three of them made splendid English soldiers. Especially Ewan. The way his tunic stretched tight across his wide shoulders drew attention to his hard, masculine chest.
    The beat of her heart picked up in rhythm, but it didn’t last long.  Catching the stern line of his brow, she glanced away, feeling her anger return.
    “Hie ye off to the horses, the both of ye,” Ewan commanded the men. “I’ll aid Moridac in retrieving his horse and join ye by the river within the hour.”
    Alec paused.
    “And what would ye say, Alec?” Ewan asked, noting the man’s reluctance.
    The highlander waited a moment longer, but then expelling a breath, shook his head, and along with Lothar bundled out of the door.
    As soon as they’d left, Ewan rounded on her. “Are ye mad?” he asked.
    “Mad?” Merry repeated. Anger reflected in her dark brown eyes. “I came to find ye something to wear so you wouldn’t be caught dead in your plaid!”
    “Ye could have been killed,” he retorted, his words clipped.
    She scowled at him, and then her eyes fell, noting his shirt was still open at the neck. His throat and collarbone were distracting. Glancing away again, she grumbled, “Ye seem to have difficulty in thanking me.”
    “ Thanking ye?” he repeated through clenched teeth.
    She stiffened. “Aye, ye should thank me for saving ye, and for riding to find safe clothing—”
    “Ye’ve shown naught but a lack of foresight this entire time,” he interrupted tersely.
    At that, her anger erupted anew. Throwing her shoulders back, she planted her hands on her hips. “I used to hold ye in the highest esteem, Ewan MacLean, but I see now that you’re an ungrateful wretch!”
    “Am I?” he grated. “Do ye have nary a care in the world then? What would Ruan say of ye?”
    With her brown eyes flashing passionately, she retorted, “I may be a lass, but I’m not helpless. Ruan taught me to ride and shoot an arrow, ye daft oaf. And I’ve been practicing with him for years to learn to wield a dirk properly. He saw to it that I’d never have to wait to be rescued from the clutches of a cruel man again!”
    At her allusion to the past, Ewan went still.
    They stood there,