Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next morning, Arianna stood in the grand entrance hall of Castle McGuire, her gloved hands clasped before her.
Sunlight streamed through the narrow windows, catching in her hair and brightening her eager expression.
She had risen before dawn, her pulse humming with anticipation rather than dread.
Now that she knew Ian had not forced her hand in marriage, curiosity and excitement stirred freely in her chest.
The heavy doors creaked open, and Ian strode in carrying two leather bags slung over one broad shoulder. He looked every bit the Highland laird, dark hair loose about his shoulders, boots dusted from the yard already. Arianna blinked at the sight of the bags.
“Are we leavin’ the castle entirely?” she asked.
“Aye,” he replied simply, shifting the weight with ease.
“For how long?” she pressed, falling into step beside him as he turned toward the courtyard.
“Och, just the night,” he said, as though it were nothing at all.
“A night?” she echoed, her steps faltering slightly. “Ian, what exactly are ye plannin’?”
He glanced down at her, amusement flickering in his brown eye. “We’re goin’ campin’, lass.”
“Campin’?” she repeated, half scandalized and half intrigued. “As in sleepin’ outdoors?”
“As in sleepin’ under the sky God gave us,” he said dryly.
She hurried to keep pace with him as they crossed into the brisk morning air. “Where are we goin’ to do that?” she demanded.
“Ye’ll see,” he replied.
“That is nae an answer.”
“It’s the only one ye’re gettin’ for now,” he said with a faint smirk.
They reached the stables, where a sturdy chestnut horse waited patiently. Ian set the bags down and began securing them to the saddle with practiced movements. Arianna watched, fascinated, as he checked the straps and tightened the girth.
“What’s in the bags?” she asked, stepping closer.
“Blankets, food, a small tent,” he answered. “A flask of whisky, should the night grow cold.”
She arched a brow. “Practical and prepared.”
“I’ve spent more nights outdoors than in,” he said, tugging a strap firm. “Ye’ll be safe with me.”
“I daenae doubt that,” she replied softly before she could stop herself.
His hands paused briefly at her words, and he glanced at her with quiet intensity. “Good,” he murmured.
“Why campin’?” she asked again, genuinely curious now. “Why nae simply ride somewhere and return afore dark?”
He adjusted the final buckle and turned to face her fully. “Because walls have ears,” he said. “And I’d sooner get to ken me wife without a castle listenin’ in.”
Her breath caught at the word wife spoken so plainly. “So this is… part of the agreement?”
“Aye,” he said. “Our second outin'.”
“And what happens on this outin'?” she asked, unable to hide the spark in her voice.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “We talk. We ride. Ye learn what kind of man I am when there’s no one watchin’.”
“And if I daenae like what I learn?” she challenged lightly.
A slow smile curved his mouth. “Then ye can throw somethin’ at me instead of the council.”
She laughed, the sound bright in the crisp air. “Very well, me Laird. Lead on.”
Ian held the reins loosely and looked down at her with quiet command. “Up ye go, lass,” he said, nodding toward his horse.
Arianna frowned, hands planted firmly on her hips. “I can ride by meself on me own horse,” she protested.
“It’ll be faster this way,” he replied evenly. “And I’d rather keep ye close.”
Her pulse stumbled at that. “I daenae need guardin’ every second,” she said, though her voice lacked heat.
“Nay,” he agreed softly, stepping nearer, “but indulge me.”
She hesitated a heartbeat too long. Without further warning, he slid his hands to her waist and lifted her as though she weighed nothing at all. “Ian!” she gasped as he settled her onto the saddle.
He mounted behind her in one fluid motion, his chest solid against her back. “There,” he murmured near her ear. “Much simpler.”
Her breath came shallow as his arms encircled her to grasp the reins. She could feel the heat of him through the layers of fabric, the steady strength in his thighs bracketing hers.
“Ye are insufferable,” she whispered.
“Aye,” he said calmly. “But efficient.”
The gates of Castle McGuire creaked open, and they rode out into the morning light.
Arianna forced herself to focus on the path ahead rather than the firm line of Ian’s body pressed to hers.
Each jolt of the horse sent warmth curling low in her belly, awareness sharpening with every breath he took against her hair.
They passed cottages with thatched roofs and thin trails of smoke curling from chimneys. Children paused in their play to wave, and farmers tipped their caps as the laird rode by. Rolling hills stretched beyond, green and gold beneath the pale sky, dotted with sheep grazing lazily.
Stone fences lined narrow fields, and small streams glinted like silver threads through the land. Arianna felt a strange swell of pride at the sight of it all.
“Ye’ve fine lands,” she said quietly.
“Our lands,” Ian corrected.
She felt the weight of the word settle warmly in her chest. “Our lands,” she repeated.
After some time, Ian slowed the horse near a clear brook that wound through a copse of trees.
“We’ll let the horse rest,” he said, dismounting before reaching up to help her down. His hands lingered at her waist a fraction longer than necessary.
She stepped toward the brook, kneeling gracefully at its edge. The water was cool and bright, dancing over smooth stones. She cupped her hands and splashed it against her face, sighing at the refreshing chill.
Behind her, Ian’s voice turned low. “Careful, lass.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “Careful of what?”
His eye darkened as he gestured subtly. “The water’s rollin’ down onto yer bosom.”
Her breath caught, and she looked down instinctively. Droplets traced the curve of her throat, slipping beneath the edge of her gown. Heat flared in her cheeks despite the cool air.
“Ye’re starin’,” she accused softly.
“I’d have to be blind nae to,” he replied.
She rose slowly, water still glistening against her skin. “Ye’ve nay shame.”
“Nay,” he agreed, stepping closer. “Nae when it comes to me wife.”
Her heart hammered as he reached out, brushing a thumb lightly along her collarbone where a drop lingered. The touch was brief, but it seared. “Ian,” she breathed, uncertain whether it was a warning or a plea.
He leaned nearer, voice rough. “Ye daenae ken what ye do to me when ye look like that.”
“Like what?” she challenged, though her voice trembled.
“Temptation itself,” he said simply.
The air between them thickened, the sound of the brook suddenly distant. She felt caught in his gaze, pinned as surely as if he had touched her again.
“We are meant to be talkin’ and learnin’,” she reminded him softly.
“Aye,” he said, not moving away. “And I’m learnin’ that restraint grows harder by the hour.”
Her pulse leapt wildly. “Ye promised.”
“I did,” he agreed. “And I’ll keep it.”
For a heartbeat, she wondered what would happen if he did not. The thought both frightened and thrilled her. “Good,” she managed.
He stepped back at last, drawing in a steady breath. “Come,” he said, offering his hand. “We’ve miles yet to ride.”
She placed her hand in his, feeling the strength and warmth of him wrap around her fingers. As he helped her mount once more, she knew the true danger of this journey was not the wilderness ahead. It was the growing certainty that by the third outing, she would no longer wish to resist him at all.
They continued riding for another hour, when Ian steered off the main road and followed a much narrower path into the woods.
Then, the trees thinned at last, their dense canopy giving way to open sky.
Arianna felt the horse slow beneath them as they stepped into a wide clearing bathed in golden light.
The air seemed different there, softer somehow, scented with wildflowers and sun-warmed grass.
It was as though they had crossed into a hidden world untouched by the rest of Scotland.
Ian guided the horse to a halt, his arm firm around her waist. “We’re here,” he said quietly.
She turned in the saddle to look at him. “What is this place?” she asked.
He helped her down before answering, his boots landing solidly in the grass. “It doesnae have a name,” he said, glancing around with something like fondness in his eye. “But it’s a favorite of mine.”
She stepped away from him slowly, taking in the sight. The meadow stretched wide and bright, a sweep of green dotted with purple heather and small white blossoms that nodded in the breeze. Buttercups gleamed like scattered coins, and tall grasses swayed in gentle waves beneath the open sky.
“The trees shelter it on every side,” Ian continued, gesturing toward the thick ring of oaks and birches. “Makes it private. Safe.”
“And alive,” Arianna murmured, kneeling to brush her fingers through a cluster of tiny blue flowers. Bees hummed lazily between blooms, and a skylark trilled somewhere overhead. “It’s very beautiful.”
He watched her instead of the meadow. “I thought ye would love to see it,” he said simply.
Her chest tightened at the quiet certainty in his voice. “Ye were right,” she admitted. “It feels… untouched.”
“Aye,” he said. “That’s why I come here.”
He moved to unfasten the bags from the horse, setting them carefully upon the grass. Arianna lingered, uncertain what to do with her hands. The wind tugged at her cloak, and she felt suddenly idle, a spectator while he worked.
Ian began assembling the small tent with efficient movements, driving pegs into the soft earth. He worked with ease, sleeves pushed back to reveal corded forearms marked with old scars. Arianna shifted her weight, disliking the feeling of uselessness creeping over her.
“Is there aught I can do?” she asked finally.
He glanced up at her, surprised. “Aye,” he said after a moment. “Gather some wood for the fire.”
Her chin lifted. “Gladly.”
“Daenae wander far,” he added, his tone firm. “The ground dips in places.”
“I’ll be careful,” she assured him.
She moved toward the edge of the clearing, scanning for fallen branches. The meadow gave way to scattered trees and thicker undergrowth, the scent of moss rising as she stepped into the shade. She gathered a few small branches, cradling them in her arms, pleased to be contributing.
“Ye’ll nae be the only one capable out here,” she muttered to herself.
A bird startled from a bush, and she laughed softly at her own jumpiness. Determined to prove herself steady, she ventured a little farther than she had intended. The trees grew closer together, and the ground beneath her boots felt uneven.
“One more bundle,” she said quietly, bending to retrieve a thicker branch.
Her foot slipped.
The earth gave way beneath her with sudden, cruel swiftness. She cried out as she tumbled downward, the wood scattering from her arms. Dirt and leaves scraped against her hands as she landed hard in a shallow pit hidden by brush.
“Och!” she gasped, pain flaring through her ankle.
“Arianna!” Ian’s voice rang sharp through the trees.
“I’m here!” she called back, wincing as she tried to stand. “I’ve only… fallen.”
Moments later, his boots pounded through the undergrowth. He appeared at the edge of the concealed hole, fury and fear etched plainly across his face. “What in God’s name were ye thinkin’?” he demanded.
“I was gatherin’ wood,” she replied breathlessly. “As ye asked.”
“I told ye nae to wander far,” he growled, dropping to his knees at the edge.
“I didnae mean to,” she insisted. “The ground simply vanished.”
He extended a hand. “Can ye stand?”
She attempted to rise, but pain shot through her ankle, and she sucked in a sharp breath. “I believe I’ve twisted it.”
His jaw tightened. “Stay still.”
He slid carefully down into the pit beside her, his presence filling the small space. “Ye could’ve broken more than yer pride,” he muttered.
“Me pride remains intact,” she said weakly.
“Aye?” he challenged, one brow lifting despite his concern.
“Mostly,” she amended.
He crouched before her, hands gentle as he examined her ankle. His touch was careful, almost reverent, as he pressed lightly along the swelling joint. “Does that hurt?” he asked.
“Aye,” she hissed.
“And that?”
“Less.”
He exhaled slowly. “It’s nae broken.”
“Thank heavens,” she murmured.
His gaze lifted to hers, still simmering with worry. “Ye frightened me,” he admitted gruffly.
Her breath caught at the confession. “I didnae mean to.”
“I ken that,” he said quietly. “But ye must heed me when I say daenae wonder far.”
She held his gaze. “I daenae like feelin’ helpless.”
He softened slightly. “Ye’re nae helpless,” he said firmly. “But there’s no shame in acceptin’ help either.”
He slipped an arm around her waist. “I’m liftin’ ye,” he warned.
“I gathered some wood at least,” she muttered.
He gave a short huff of laughter despite himself. “Aye, ye did.”
With careful strength, he lifted her from the pit, settling her against him once they reached level ground. She clutched his shoulders, acutely aware of his solid warmth beneath her palms.
“Next time,” he said quietly, “stay where I can see ye.”
She met his eye, her heart beating hard for reasons beyond fear. “Aye,” she whispered.