Chapter 6
Ava heard the grunts of men before she reached them. She could hear the sound of steel striking steel in a clean, hard rhythm.
The men moved across the yard sharply, their boots biting dust, their blades flashing in the sun. The whole place smelled of sweat, leather, and churned earth. It should have made her turn back. Instead, it only sharpened the beat of her pulse.
If she was going to do this, it would be now or never.
Her eyes swept across the crowd for a brief minute, looking through the horde of sweaty and shirtless bodies.
Then she saw him.
Ciaran stood near the center of the yard, his hand gripping a sharp sword. His shirt clung tight to his glistening skin, outlining the broadness of his chest and the ridges of his abdomen.
Ava swallowed hard and tried to keep her eyes on his face.
His face.
His face, for the love of God.
He was not shouting. That was the one thing Ava had noticed.
He did not need to. A word from him, or only the lift of a hand, and the men would shift where he wanted them.
They obeyed like they knew exactly what he was and did not wish to disappoint him.
His authority sat on him almost as naturally as his shadow.
It was quite irritating. And worse, deeply compelling.
Ava slowed her pace for one breath, hating the fact that her body noticed every single detail about him. It was the last thing a woman uninterested in a marriage with him would do.
A woman uninterested in marriage would not notice the breadth of his shoulders or the controlled strength in the way he moved. She wouldn’t notice how sharp his jaw looked from a distance and how his hair fell over his forehead and almost covered his eyes.
The reason why she had come snapped her back to the present almost immediately.
Get it together, Ava.
She crossed the yard before hesitation could grow teeth. A few men looked at her, but they looked away just as quickly. Ciaran turned when she was still several steps away, and the sight of his attention settling fully on her stirred her nerves again, but she crushed them at once.
“Me Laird,” she greeted.
His gaze moved over her face, reading more than she liked. “Me Lady.”
“I would have a private word.”
Something like surprise touched his expression, though it vanished quickly. “Would ye now?”
“Aye.”
He studied her for another moment, then gave a brief order to the nearest man and stepped away from the yard with her.
They stopped at the edge of the training grounds. The sound of the men practicing was still present, but it had dulled.
Ava clasped her hands together to stop herself from fidgeting.
“Well?” he prompted.
“Ye told me last night that I might set conditions.”
“I did.”
“Then I shall.”
He folded his arms. “Now?”
Her eyes remained on his face. “Aye. Now. Why would I call ye here?”
“So ye have thought of these conditions?”
Ava narrowed her eyes in annoyance. “Are ye trying to confuse me?”
He blinked. “What?”
“Ye want to confuse me so I forget what rules they are?”
“It depends.” He took a step closer to her. “Are ye?”
He was so close that she could smell his sweat and feel the heat of him from where she stood. “Am I what?”
“Confused?” His voice dropped.
Keep yer eyes on his face, Ava. Keep. Yer. Eyes. On. His. Face.
“Nay, I am nae,” she responded, her voice sharper than she had intended.
A brief silence passed between them, in which Ava used to gather her strength. A while later, she exhaled through her nose.
“If I am to marry ye, then I willnae marry a stranger who means to remain one. I want one hour each day. At least. Supper, a walk, some shared activity—I daenae much care which. But I willnae live in yer castle as though I were a well-bred ghost.”
His left eyebrow rose. “One hour.”
“Aye.”
“That is yer first condition.”
“It is.”
He said nothing, so she pressed on before he could flatten the matter with silence.
“I also want companionship. Effort. I willnae stand quietly in the place assigned to me while ye do things that make people think ye daenae have a wife.”
That sharpened him slightly, though his expression did not change.
“And ye arenae to touch me unless I fall in love.”
This time, his reaction was immediate.
“I daenae want to fall in love, Ava. That is the last thing I want.”
The vehemence of it struck her harder than the words themselves. It came too quickly, too cleanly, and for the first time, she heard the sharpness beneath his cold practicality.
Good.
“I didnae say ye must.”
His jaw ticked. “Ye didnae?”
“Aye, I said I willnae give meself to a man I daenae even like. Ye seem…”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Seem what?”
She exhaled. “Tolerable.”
He nodded, like he had nothing else to say regarding that point. “We may enjoy one another’s company well enough without emotion,” he said. “And still live as I intend.”
Ava caught the opening at once. “After we have an heir.”
He went still, and she watched the meaning sink in.
“Aye…” he trailed off.
There. The first real pause.
So ye arenae as sharp as ye think, Ciaran Nairn.
Ava stepped closer, not enough to crowd him, but enough to make it plain that she saw the contradiction and meant to hold him in it.
“Then until that heir is born, ye will spend time with me. Ye will make some effort at companionship, and this marriage will be what it is: a marriage.”
For a moment, he only looked at her. The sounds of the yard carried faintly behind them.
Ava held his gaze and finished it cleanly. “Until then, ye’ll spend time with me. Or else ye willnae touch me. Yer choice, me Laird.”
He did not answer at once, and that alone told her enough.
The look on his face told her that he had not expected this. When she told him she had terms, he had probably thought they were simple things, not terms shaped to fit around his own words and trap him inside them.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low. “Ye bargain boldly.”
Ava lifted her chin. “Ye chose me boldly, did ye nae?”
An unreadable emotion passed over his face, but he did not object, and that was enough.
Ye want to play this game, Ciaran Nairn? Then we are going to play to yer heart’s content.