Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ian sat in the dim light of his study, with maps and ledgers sprawled on the desk.
His mind churned with a storm of guilt and desire, recalling the way Arianna had melted against him in the carriage, the flush on her cheeks, the way her hands had clutched at him as she released.
He did not regret the taste, the closeness, the way her warmth had made his blood roar, but he knew he had acted like a beast. A cold weight settled on his chest as he realized he should have tempered himself more, kept his hands from wandering as freely as they had.
She deserved better than having that moment in a carriage.
With a growl, Ian shoved back from the desk and stalked to the kitchens, startling the maids as he passed.
Their eyes widened at the sight of his furrowed brow and clenched jaw; whispers of “the Laird’s in a black mood” rippled through the room.
He grabbed a bottle of whisky without a word, downing a swig to steel himself.
The burn of the alcohol did little to calm the fire still thrumming in his veins.
He marched out of the kitchens and onto the castle grounds.
Outside, the men were already training, wooden swords clanging against shields and each other in the brisk morning air.
Ian stepped forward, tossing his empty bottle aside. This is exactly what he needed to quell his hot blood.
He called out, “Come, ye lot! Let’s see if ye can keep up with the Laird today!”
One man grinned, brandishing a practice axe. “I’ll take that challenge.”
Ian smirked, circling him with calculated steps. “Ye speak too much, boy! Let yer sword do the talkin'.”
The man lunged, swinging wildly; Ian sidestepped smoothly, catching the man’s wrist and twisting, forcing him to drop the axe with a clatter.
“Learn yer angles, man! Or ye’ll be kissing the dirt before ye ken it!” he barked, pushing him back.
A voice inside his head reminded him sharply of his nature, of the greed and lust that had surged in his blood.
This is how ye were born, a beast, taking all ye desire without care.
Ian clenched his fists, knowing he had to temper that beast, to keep Arianna safe from it. He would not let her feel the fear he had sometimes felt in himself.
Flynn, ever perceptive, entered the yard with a grin. “Ah, Ian, I ken that look. Blood stirs in ye, aye?” He rolled his shoulders, drawing his sword. “I think it’s time we see if ye’re truly sharpened today.”
Ian accepted the challenge, and the two men clashed. Steel scraped and clanged as they danced around the yard, taunting each other.
“Ye fight like a drunken ox today!” Flynn spat, feinting to the left.
“Aye, and ye smell like one too!” Ian returned, countering a thrust and pressing him back.
Minutes passed in rhythmic strikes, the ground kicked up beneath their boots, sweat running down their foreheads. Finally, with a deft twist, Ian disarmed Flynn and sent him stumbling back.
“Ha! That’s enough, Flynn,” Ian said, breathing heavily but satisfied.
Flynn laughed, shaking his head. “I ken what ye need, Ian.”
“What’s that?” Ian asked, wiping his brow.
“A cool dip in the river,” Flynn said simply. “Clear yer head, cool the blood, and maybe stop ye from rippin’ someone’s head off before supper.”
Ian grinned, nodding. “Aye, let’s see if the river can temper the beast then.”
They rode swiftly to the river just beyond the castle walls, the air smelling of pine and damp earth. With a shared glance, they plunged into the cold water, the shock of it stealing Ian’s breath. The icy rush did wonders to cool his body, muscles relaxing and blood slowing its frantic beat.
Yet as he surfaced, water streaming from his hair, Ian could not shake the thoughts of Arianna.
The memory of her soft gasp, the curve of her cheek against his palm, and the flush of her skin haunted him relentlessly.
He ducked under the water and surfaced again, trying to distract himself with the cool rush against his face, but desire refused to be quelled.
Flynn swam over, chuckling. “Ye’re nae foolin' yerself, Ian. Ye’re still thinkin’ of her, aye?”
“Aye,” Ian admitted, voice low. “Even with the river, she burns in me mind. The lass has claimed a part of me I didnae ken existed.”
Flynn laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Best keep yer wits, then. Ye’ll need them when ye see her next.”
Ian nodded, rolling onto his back and letting the river carry him briefly. He had cooled in body but not in spirit, desire still thrumming like a drum in his chest.
I must hold back, keep her safe and yet… keep her longing, keep her wanting. I promised her that I wouldnae force her into the marriage bed. If I went back on that, I would truly become me father and lose Arianna forever.
And he knew that each time he saw her, every smile, every touch, every laugh, would only fan that fire, making the promise of their next meeting burn hotter in his mind. So he decided to keep his distance.
By the time they hauled themselves out of the river, soaked and chilled, Ian’s resolve was stronger. He would maintain distance, he would temper himself, and yet, the thought of Arianna pressed against him like a hunger he could not deny.
He wrapped a cloak around his shoulders, watching the castle walls rise ahead, and whispered softly to himself, “I must stay away, lass, for yer own good.”
Arianna knelt among the daisies and wild clovers, carefully selecting the tenderest blooms for her bunny.
She held the flowers in her hands, watching them sway lightly in the breeze, but her mind was elsewhere.
Since returning from the village, Ian had kept his distance, barely sparing her a glance, and it gnawed at her.
She chewed on her lip, annoyed and puzzled, wondering if her reaction in the carriage had displeased him.
Melissa noticed the furrow in her brow and the tension in her shoulders.
“Arianna, lass, what’s eatin’ at ye?” she asked, plucking a sprig of lavender and twirling it between her fingers.
Arianna sighed and let the frustration spill out. “I’ll never understand men, Melissa. I daenae ken why Ian is ignoring me now.” She glanced down at the flowers, twisting a daisy stem nervously. “I fear he thinks me too wanton… because I gave in when he tempted me in the carriage.”
Melissa’s eyes widened, and she placed a gentle hand on Arianna’s arm. “Och, lass, there’s no way Ian would think like that. Ye gave in because ye trusted him, not because ye were reckless.” She smiled warmly, hoping to reassure her friend.
Arianna wasn’t convinced. She hugged a handful of clovers closer to her chest and shook her head. “It doesnae feel that way, Melissa. I cannae help it. I can feel his absence in every glance he avoids, every word he withholds.” Her heart felt a mixture of longing and fear twisting her stomach.
Melissa tried to distract her, weaving a small bouquet of wildflowers and holding it out with a grin.
“Here, look at these, aren’t they lovely?
Let’s make a crown for the bunny; it’ll brighten yer mood, I promise.
” She knelt beside Arianna, fingers deftly twisting the stems together, but Arianna barely looked up.
She forced a smile, attempting to lift her spirits, but it felt hollow.
Even as the colors of the flowers swirled in her hands, her thoughts returned to Ian, to the flush of desire and warmth she’d felt under his touch.
Nothing could chase that ache from her heart; the blossoms smelled sweet, but they could not fill the emptiness she felt.
Arianna gathered the small bouquet and retreated to her chambers, carrying it with a heavy heart. She set the flowers before her bunny, watching as the little creature nibbled contentedly, yet the joy that should have accompanied the simple act failed to reach her.
Her mind wandered to Ian’s sharp jaw, his broad shoulders, the way he smelled of smoke and leather, and how alive her skin had felt beneath his hands. A pang of longing gripped her chest, twisting tight like the stems of the flowers she had picked.
“Does he care for me?” she whispered, though only the creature heard.
Doubt filled her chest, heavy and suffocating, as she feared that she would never know him.
“It's just ye and I until the Laird visits us once more,” she said.