Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Arianna sat by the window of her chamber five days later, the late morning light spilling across the rushes and warming her skirts.
In her lap, the small brown-and-white bunny twitched its nose and nibbled at her fingers, utterly content.
She had named him Bramble, for the way he had first been found tucked near the hedges by the fields.
Stroking his soft ears, her thoughts drifted again, unwillingly, to the kiss.
Heat crept up her neck as she remembered the firmness of Ian’s arms and the startling hunger she had felt before he pulled away.
It unsettled her more than she cared to admit that her body had answered him so readily.
Arianna pressed her lips together, annoyed with herself for dwelling on it still.
Bramble shifted, and she sighed, resting her cheek briefly against his warm fur.
A knock sounded at the door, brisk but gentle. “Enter.”
Melissa peeked in, her smile bright and familiar, as though they were already old friends. “Me lady,” she said, “I was wonderin’ if ye might fancy a bit of paintin’ this mornin’.”
Arianna’s relief was instant.
“I would love that,” Arianna replied quickly, grateful for the offer of distraction. She rose, tucking Bramble against her side. “Truly, I was growin’ far too deep in me own thoughts.”
Melissa laughed softly and motioned for her to follow.
They walked through the corridors and down into the gardens, the heavy doors opening to a sweep of green and color.
The McGuire gardens sprawled wide and careful, bordered by stone walls and clipped hedges, with roses climbing trellises and herbs growing thick near the paths.
A small fountain murmured at the center, its sound mingling with birdsong and the rustle of leaves.
Sunlight dappled the grass, making the whole place feel hushed and private.
Arianna set Bramble down near a patch of clover, and he immediately began to explore, nibbling with single-minded joy. He flopped into the sun after a moment, clearly pleased with his surroundings.
Arianna smiled at the sight, feeling some of her tension ease. “He likes it here,” she murmured.
Melissa had already arranged two easels beneath a flowering apple tree, paints laid out neatly beside them. “I thought the shade would help,” she said, handing Arianna a brush. “And if the laird asks, I’ll tell him it was me idea to steal ye away.”
Arianna chuckled as she dipped her brush into blue.
They worked in easy silence at first, the scrape of bristles against canvas soothing. Arianna painted the fountain, though her hand wandered now and again, her thoughts less steady than her lines.
Melissa glanced over and smiled. “Ye’ve a gentle hand,” she said. “It shows in the way ye see things.”
“Thank ye,” Arianna replied, surprised by how much the praise meant. She hesitated, then asked, “Melissa… ye seem happy here. Truly happy.”
Melissa’s smile softened, and she nodded. “Aye, I am,” she said. “More than I ever thought I’d be, if I’m honest.” She rinsed her brush and leaned back slightly. “It’s Flynn, mostly. He’s a good man, even with all his odd notions.”
Arianna looked at her with interest. “How did ye meet?” she asked. “I ken he’s the laird’s man-at-arms, but beyond that…”
Melissa laughed, a fond sound. “Oh, I was just a maid, same as any other,” Melissa said. “And he was always about, followin’ the laird like a shadow, lookin’ serious as stone.” She shook her head at the memory. “We’d pass each other in the halls, nod polite, nae more than that.”
She continued painting as she spoke, her voice warming with the telling. “Then one night there was a ceilidh in the great hall, music loud enough to shake the rafters. I was meant to be workin’, but Flynn asked me to dance just once.”
Melissa’s cheeks colored faintly. “He said it was a full moon, and it’d be terrible luck if we danced and didnae wed after.”
Arianna laughed outright, nearly dropping her brush. “Ye cannae be serious,” she said. “That’s the daftest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Bramble twitched an ear at the sound. Melissa grinned.
“Aye, I said the same,” she admitted. “But he looked so solemn, like the fate of the world rested on it.” She sighed, eyes distant. “And somehow, between the music and the moonlight, I believed him.”
They shared a smile, and Arianna returned to her canvas, feeling lighter. “So ye married him because of a superstition?” she teased.
Melissa shook her head. “Nae just that,” she said gently. “I married him because he looked at me like I mattered.” She paused, then added softly, “And because he never once tried to be anythin' other than what he was.”
The words lingered with Arianna longer than the story itself. She thought of Ian, of his rough edges and blunt truths, of the way he seemed at war with himself. Her brush slowed, then steadied. “It sounds like ye grew to ken him, truly,” she said.
“Aye,” Melissa replied. “And he grew to ken me, stubborn bits and all.” She smiled at Arianna over her canvas. “Sometimes it starts in the strangest ways.”
Bramble hopped closer then, nudging Arianna’s hem as if seeking attention.
She bent to lift him, holding him against her chest. The garden felt warm and safe, and for the first time since her wedding, her heart felt a little less guarded.
Perhaps, she thought, there were worse beginnings than uncertainty.
As they painted on, Arianna let herself breathe, let herself be present. The kiss still lingered in her memory, but it no longer felt like a threat. Instead, it felt like a question she was not yet ready to answer. And for now, with paint on her fingers and sun on her face, that felt like enough.
Arianna dabbed her brush against the canvas and then stilled, letting out a quiet breath as she looked around the sunlit garden.
“I feel… at ease here,” she said softly, glancing at Melissa. “Paintin’ with ye, listenin’ to the birds, it’s the first time since arrivin’ that me chest doesnae feel tight.”
Melissa smiled knowingly and arched a brow. “It’s about time,” she said lightly. “So tell me, what’s been twistin’ yer thoughts so fierce, then?”
Arianna hesitated, her fingers tightening around the brush before she finally murmured, “He kissed me.”
Melissa’s eyes widened just a fraction before she chuckled. “Well, I’d hope so,” she said, amused. “Ye are married, after all, kissin’ yer husband is hardly a sin.”
Arianna shook her head, color rising in her cheeks as she whispered, “It’s nae that simple.”
She swallowed and stared at the half-finished painting. “He broke the kiss and left,” she admitted, her voice uneven. “And I wanted more, Melissa. God help me, I did, and now I feel… unbalanced, as if I’ve done somethin’ wrong just by wantin’ him.”
Her thoughts churned, sharp and accusing, telling her she shouldn't desire the very man who forced her into this marriage. “I barely ken him,” she added, almost to herself, “and yet me body betrays me.”
Melissa set her brush aside and turned fully toward her, her tone gentler now.
“Listen to me,” she said firmly. “It’s natural to want closeness with yer husband, even if ye’re strangers, especially if ye’re strangers.” She smiled then, teasing warmth returning to her eyes. “If desire made a woman immoral, there’d be precious few saints left in Scotland.”
Arianna huffed a reluctant laugh, the tight knot in her chest easing just a little.
They returned to their painting, the afternoon slipping by unnoticed as shadows slowly lengthened across the grass. Suddenly, Arianna gasped and looked up at the sky.
“Saints preserve me,” she said, horrified, “we’ve been here for hours, Melissa, ye must be in terrible trouble, neglectin’ yer duties on me account.”
Melissa burst out laughing, nearly splashing blue paint on her skirt. “Me only duty is to serve ye, me lady,” she said with mock solemnity. “So unless ye asked me to scrub floors and I forgot, I’ll sleep easy tonight.”
The next day, Arianna sank deeper into the warm water of the bath, letting the scent of the herbs soothe her tense muscles.
“I cannae pretend I forgive him for what he did. That kiss when he had promised nae to touch me,” she murmured to herself, trailing her fingers through the water.
Yet, despite her anger, she couldn't ignore the stirrings in her chest, the heat that welled up whenever she thought of Ian.
She knew, as much as she wished to deny it, that she wanted him, though she would not let that weaken her will.
The door creaked open, and Arianna let out a startled squeal, twisting to see who had come in. Ian froze in the doorway, his broad frame outlined by the flickering candlelight, and his dark eye glinting with something raw.
“Arianna…” His voice was low, rough, filled with tension. For a heartbeat, neither moved, the air thick with unspoken desire.
“I… I daenae ken what ye’re thinkin’,” Arianna stammered, covering herself with trembling hands.
Ian’s lips curved in a dark smirk, and he took a slow step forward, the firelight catching on the scars of his face.
“Thinkin’?” he growled. “I’m thinkin’ ye need to get dressed, lass. Council waits, and I willnae have ye sittin’ in front of the men naked.”
Arianna’s cheeks burned hotter than the bath water.
“I’ll… I’ll get dressed!” she stammered, reaching for her chemise and wrapping it around herself as quickly as she could.
Her heart raced at the memory of the heat in Ian’s gaze, the desire that lingered like a brush of fire against her skin.
She couldn’t help but feel a small thrill; he did want her, and that truth made her pulse quicken.
Ian turned his back to give her a sliver of privacy, though she could feel the tension radiating from him even so.
“Make it quick,” he said over his shoulder, voice low and commanding, but with a rough edge that made her shiver.
Arianna obeyed, fumbling with the laces and damp hair, her mind racing with thoughts she wouldn't dare admit. Despite herself, she felt a quiet satisfaction, knowing that Laird McGuire, feared and powerful as he was, wanted her.
When she finally finished dressing, she glanced up to see Ian watching her, his expression unreadable but intense.
The flush of embarrassment and longing still clung to her cheeks, and she quickly turned away, pretending composure.
Deep down, she knew the bath had done more than cleanse her body; it had reminded her of her own desires, her own strength, and that she was not to be underestimated.
Even as she followed him to the council, her heart still beat faster, and she couldn't stop thinking of the fire she had glimpsed in Ian’s eyes.