Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Iken well enough I am no handsome man, nor gentle-featured, nor easy to love.
His jaw was too hard, his brow too stern, and years of command had carved severity into him.
Yet he had seen the way her breath caught when he stood too close, the way her gaze sometimes lingered.
And once this outing was done, he meant to remind her, thoroughly, that whatever else he lacked, he could make her tremble and beg beneath him.
Ian watched Arianna. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright as lantern flame, and she looked unburdened. He found he liked that look on her more than he ought to admit. For a moment, he allowed himself to simply stand and study the joy upon her face.
“Well then, wife,” he said, folding his arms, “what would ye like to do next?”
She tilted her head, pretending to consider. “I must admit,” she said, eyes dancing, “all this excitement has me workin’ up hunger.”
Ian groaned low in his throat. “Aye,” he replied, voice dipping, “me too.”
Her eyes widened before she playfully slapped his arm. “Nae like that,” she scolded, though laughter trembled in her tone.
He gave her an exaggerated sigh. “Ye wound me, lass.”
She shook her head. “I meant food.”
“Fine then,” he muttered, offering her his arm. “I suppose we can feed that sort of hunger first.”
He led her through the bustling square toward the tavern, its windows glowing warm. Laughter and the smell of roasted meat drifted out as they approached. Ian pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside, Arianna at his side.
The tavern buzzed with voices and clinking tankards, but as eyes fell upon Ian, the noise faltered. One by one, men stood and bowed their heads in respect. Ian gave a short nod in acknowledgment, neither encouraging nor dismissing the gesture.
Arianna glanced up at him. “They respect ye,” she murmured quietly.
“They fear me,” he corrected evenly, guiding her further in.
The tavern owner, Mr. Gowan, hurried forward, wiping his hands on his apron. “Laird,” he said with a deep bow. “Me lady. ’Tis an honor.”
“Evenin’, Gowan,” Ian replied. “We’ll nae trouble ye long.”
“Nonsense,” Mr. Gowan said quickly. “Ye’ll have the best table.” He shooed two young lads aside and personally cleared a sturdy oak table near the hearth, where the fire crackled bright and warm.
Arianna smiled politely. “Ye’re too kind, Mr. Gowan.”
“For the laird and his lady?” Gowan beamed. “Only the finest we have.”
Ian gestured for Arianna to sit before taking his own seat. “Bring what’s fresh,” he told the tavern keeper. “And ale.”
“At once,” Gowan said, bowing again. “If there’s aught else ye require, ye need only say it.”
“That will do,” Ian answered, his tone firm but not unkind.
Soon tankards of dark ale were set before them, along with thick slices of oat bread still warm from the hearth.
A trencher of roasted mutton followed, glistening with herbs, alongside buttered neeps and carrots.
There was a small wheel of sharp cheese and a steaming bowl of barley broth rich with leeks and bits of salt pork.
Arianna inhaled deeply. “It smells heavenly,” she said.
Ian lifted his tankard. “To good food and better company.”
She clinked her cup lightly against his. “To laughter,” she added.
They began to eat, and for a time, only the crackle of the fire and low tavern chatter filled the space between them. Arianna tore a piece of bread and dipped it into her broth.
“I liked the village girl best,” she said. “She was bold.”
Ian chewed thoughtfully. “Aye. She kent her own mind.”
“She would never have waited for a knight to save her,” Arianna added.
He gave her a sideways glance. “Nor would ye.”
She laughed softly. “Do ye truly think so?”
“I ken so,” he replied, taking a swallow of ale.
She studied him for a moment. “And what was yer favorite part?”
He leaned back in his chair. “When the dragon tripped over its own tail.”
She blinked, then burst into laughter. “Ye’re cruel.”
“Nay,” he said dryly. “I appreciate a good fall.”
She shook her head, smiling. “I liked it when the knight learned to listen.”
Ian raised a brow. “Is that a lesson ye’d have me learn?”
“Mayhap,” she teased.
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Careful, wife. I listen more than ye think.”
Her cheeks pinked slightly as she reached for her ale. “Then tell me what I’m thinkin’ now.”
He watched her closely. “Ye’re thinkin’ this has been a fine day.”
She nodded slowly. “Aye.”
“And ye’re glad ye came.”
“I am.”
“And,” he added quietly, “ye’re nae quite ready for it to end.”
Her gaze met his across the firelight. “Nay,” she admitted softly.
He felt that warm tightening in his chest again, stronger this time. Around them, the tavern noise swelled back to its usual rhythm, but their table seemed set apart, wrapped in its own circle of warmth. He reached across and brushed his thumb lightly over her wrist.
“Then it need nae end yet,” he said.
She swallowed, her eyes darkening slightly. “What do ye propose?”
He finished his ale in one slow swallow and set the tankard down. “First, we finish our meal.”
She smiled, a slow and knowing curve of her lips. “And after?”
He leaned closer, voice low and rough. “After I take ye home, the day and night will continue.”
Her breath caught faintly. “Ian…”
“Aye?” he prompted.
She hesitated, then smiled shyly. “I’m glad ye brought me here.”
He studied her face, searching for mockery and finding none. “I’m glad ye smiled,” he replied simply.
She reached for his hand then, squeezing it gently. “I smile more than ye think.”
He covered her hand fully with his. “Good,” he said. “Because I intend to give ye reason to smile again before this trip is through.”
Her eyes widened before she laughed softly, though heat flickered in her gaze. “Finish yer mutton then, husband.”
He smirked once more and obeyed, already anticipating the hours ahead.
Ian lifted his tankard again, the dark ale sliding warm and steady down his throat.
He had already drunk more than he typically allowed himself, yet the day felt made for indulgence.
The fire burned low and golden, and Arianna’s laughter lingered sweet in his ears.
He signaled for another pour without hesitation.
Arianna arched a brow as he tipped the tankard back. “I’ve nae seen ye drink so much ale before,” she said lightly.
“That’s because I’m usually astride me horse or tendin’ to matters that require a clear head,” Ian replied. “But we’re ridin’ in a carriage tonight, and it’s a festive day. I’ll allow meself this indulgence.”
She smiled at that, and the sight pleased him more than the ale itself. “Then I shall indulge as well,” she declared, reaching for the pitcher. He watched her pour a modest amount into her cup.
“Careful, lass,” he teased. “I’ve a strong brew here.”
She lifted the cup in challenge. “I can manage.”
“Aye, let's see if ye can.”
When their plates were cleared, and the fire burned lower, Ian rose from his chair. Mr. Gowan hurried over once more, wiping his hands. “I trust it was to yer satisfaction?”
“It was,” Ian replied, placing several coins upon the table.
Mr. Gowan shook his head quickly. “Nay, Laird, I cannae take that. Yer presence is honor enough.”
Ian’s brow furrowed. “Ye’ll take it,” he said evenly. “Good food deserves good coin.”
“But…”
“Gowan,” Ian interrupted, his tone firm but not harsh, “I insist.”
The tavern keeper hesitated before nodding gratefully and accepting the payment. “Thank ye, sir.”
Ian gave a short nod and offered his arm to Arianna. As they crossed the tavern floor, the patrons once again stood and bowed their heads in respect.
Outside, the air felt crisp and clean after the warmth within. Ian led Arianna slowly along the main path of the village, lanterns flickering against stone walls. She leaned slightly closer to him as they walked.
Her gaze drifted toward a large stone building beside the church. “What is that?” she asked curiously.
He followed her line of sight. “That’s the clan’s orphanage.”
She slowed her steps. “An orphanage?” she repeated softly. “I’ve never seen such a large building for children without families.”
“The children are important,” Ian said. “They should be given every comfort we can provide.”
She looked up at him, something tender in her expression. “’Tis generous of ye.”
He gave a noncommittal shrug, though his chest tightened.
He remembered cold rooms and colder words from a father who had ruled through fear and cruelty.
He remembered hunger, loneliness, and the sharp sting of disappointment.
It was because of that past that he ensured no child under his land would suffer the same, and the orphanage also sheltered runaways who needed refuge, though he did not speak of that now.
“I’d like to visit them sometime,” Arianna said gently. “If that would be allowed.”
He studied her face, searching for doubt or hesitation, and found only sincerity. “I’ll arrange it,” he answered.
Her smile bloomed bright. “Thank ye, Ian.”
Before he could reply, a small village child darted toward them. “Me lady!” the boy cried breathlessly. “Will ye play?”
Arianna laughed in surprise. “Play?”
“Aye!” another girl chimed in, already tugging at her skirts. “We’re runnin’ fox and hound!”
Ian stepped back slightly as Arianna looked at him for permission. He gave a subtle nod. “Go on then.”
She handed him her shawl and allowed the children to pull her toward the open green. One child covered his eyes and began counting loudly while the others scattered. Arianna ran with them, skirts lifted just enough to keep from tripping, laughter ringing across the grass.
“Hide, me lady!” a wee girl whispered, dragging her behind a low stone wall.
“I cannae hide there,” Arianna whispered back, giggling. “I’m too tall.”
“Then ye must run faster!” the girl insisted.
The boy finished counting and charged across the green, shouting, “Fox, I see ye!” Children shrieked and darted in every direction.
Arianna sprinted toward a cluster of barrels, nearly caught before she twisted aside. “Ye’ll nae catch me so easily!” she called over her shoulder.
Ian watched from where he stood, arms folded loosely across his chest. The light bounced off her hair as she ran, her laughter unrestrained and full. A small child latched onto her hand, and she slowed just enough to guide him safely behind a cart.
“Quickly!” she urged. “This way!”
She was caught moments later and accepted her fate with dramatic despair. “Oh, I’ve been hunted down!” she cried, clutching her heart as the children collapsed in laughter around her.
Ian shook his head slightly, though warmth spread through him. She knelt in the grass, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, entirely at ease among them. When she rose and brushed off her skirts, she glanced toward him, breathless.
“Did ye see?” she called.
“Aye,” he replied evenly. “Ye’ve a fierce competitive streak.”
She walked back to him, still smiling. “They nearly tired me out.”
“But they didnae,” he said.
A small girl hugged Arianna’s waist. Arianna rested her hand lightly over the child’s head for a brief moment, her touch instinctive and gentle.
Ian felt something shift inside him as he watched her. She would make a fine mother, he realized, the thought settling deep and certain. She had patience in her laughter and strength in her kindness.
She returned to his side, slightly out of breath. “They’ve far too much energy,” she teased.
“Ye kept pace well enough,” he replied.
She slipped her arm through his. “They’re good children.”
“They are,” he agreed quietly.
She tilted her head. “Ye care deeply for them.”
He met her gaze, holding it steady. “Aye,” he said simply.
She smiled at him again, softer this time. “I’m glad.”
He tightened his hold on her hand as they resumed their slow walk. “Come,” he murmured. “It grows late.”
She leaned closer as they walked, her earlier laughter still echoing faintly across the green. And as Ian led her through the village, he carried with him the image of her running free among children, bright as any lantern in the dark.
Ian could not stop watching her as they crossed toward the waiting carriage.
The light clung to the curve of her cheek and traced the line of her throat, and he felt his pulse thicken with every step.
Her gown, fitted close at the waist and soft along her hips, stirred memories of pale skin and bare shoulders glimpsed before.
His blood ran hot, desire coiling tight and insistent in his chest.
“Ye’re quiet,” Arianna said softly, glancing at him from beneath her lashes.
“I’m thinkin’,” he answered, his voice lower than before.
“That sounds dangerous,” she teased lightly.
“For ye, mayhap,” he replied, holding her gaze a fraction too long.
He led her to the carriage and opened the door, steadying her hand as she stepped up.
“Thank ye,” she said politely, smoothing her skirts as she settled inside. He followed, pulling the door closed behind them, and the carriage jolted forward toward the castle.
The enclosed space felt smaller than it had earlier. Arianna’s scent, warm and faintly sweet, wrapped around him with every sway of the wheels. She turned toward him, cheeks still flushed from the cold air and laughter.
“Today was lovely,” she said gently. “I didnae expect…”
Her words faltered as he shifted closer. His restraint, stretched thin all day, finally snapped, or perhaps it was too much ale. He caught her by the waist, startling her, and tugged her firmly onto his lap.
“Ian!” she gasped, hands bracing against his shoulders.
“Ye’re drivin’ me to madness, woman,” he muttered, gripping her hips to steady her as the carriage rocked.
Her breath came quicker now, color blooming across her cheeks.
“We’re in the carriage,” she whispered.
“I ken where we are,” he replied, eyes dark. “And I kept me end of the bargain. I brought ye out, made ye smile, gave ye a fine day.”
Her fingers tightened slightly in his coat. “Ye did.”
“And I’ll nae disrespect ye by takin’ ye here for the first time,” he said roughly. “But I cannae wait another moment to have a taste.”
Her lips parted softly at his words. “A taste?” she echoed, voice trembling between protest and anticipation.
“Aye,” he murmured, sliding one hand upward along her back. “Just a reminder that ye’re mine.”
She searched his face for a heartbeat, then her expression softened. “Ye’re bold today.”
“I’ve been patient long enough.”
She exhaled slowly. “Then daenae keep waitin’.”
That was all the invitation he needed. He cupped her jaw and claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss, hunger and restraint tangling in equal measure. For a breath, she stilled in surprise, then she melted against him, kissing him back with heat that sent fire racing through his veins.
Her fingers slipped into his hair as the carriage rattled onward.