Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Ian pushed open the heavy doors of the great hall and stepped inside. A pair of servants near the entrance immediately straightened at the sight of him, wiping their hands upon their aprons.
One of them, a gray-haired woman who had served the castle for years, gave a respectful nod. “Evenin’, me Laird. Supper will be ready shortly,” she said with a curtsy.
Ian returned the nod as he shrugged off his cloak.
Another young servant hurried past carrying a tray of wooden bowls, nearly stumbling in his haste.
Ian steadied the lad with a firm hand and said quietly, “Easy there, lad. The stew will taste the same even if it reaches the table a moment later.”
The boy flushed red and bowed his head. “Aye, me Laird. Beggin’ yer pardon.”
Ian gave a brief wave to dismiss him and stepped farther into the hall, his gaze drifting instinctively toward the dais. Arianna’s chair beside his own remained empty, though that was little surprise since the supper had not yet begun.
The hall bustled with the noise of early arrivals.
Guards stood around the benches, trading rough jokes while tankards slammed loudly upon the wooden tables.
Dogs barked and wove between boots in search of early scraps, while servants hurried to and from.
The scent of roasted venison and fresh bread drifted through the air from the kitchens as Ian crossed the hall.
A few clan men greeted him with cheerful voices. “Evenin’, me Laird,” one called. “A fine day’s work it was in the lower fields.”
Another lifted his tankard in salute. “Aye, the lads finished the fence line afore sundown. Couldnae ask for better progress.”
Ian inclined his head in acknowledgement as he took his seat. “That’s good to hear. The sheep will keep better behind a strong fence.”
The men continued speaking about the day’s labor, laughing about some mishap involving a stubborn lamb, yet Ian barely listened.
His gaze kept wandering toward the great doors of the hall.
Arianna had not yet appeared.
The noise of the room faded in his mind as memories crept in unbidden. He saw again the dim interior of the carriage and the way her cheeks had flushed beneath his gaze. He remembered the softness of her lips against his and the tremor that had run through her when he brought her to the brink.
Ian’s jaw clenched as the memory burned through him.
I behaved like a starving beast.
He lowered his gaze to the wooden table before him, gripping the edge with quiet force. The laughter of the warriors nearby washed over him, but he scarcely heard it. His thoughts circled endlessly around the same warning he had repeated to himself for days.
Keep your distance. She deserves better than a man who cannot control himself.
Yet despite that firm resolve, his eyes lifted again toward the entrance of the hall. Somewhere deep inside, beneath all his restraint, he found himself hoping that Arianna would appear soon.
Ian had scarcely settled into his chair upon the dais when Flynn approached with two councilmen at his side. Flynn dropped heavily onto the seat beside him, his weathered face carrying the easy grin of a man who enjoyed the noise of a full hall.
George, the eldest of the councilmen, followed with slower steps and folded his hands neatly upon the table. “Evenin’, me Laird,” George said, dipping his head. “We thought it best to speak of a few matters afore the supper grows too lively.”
Ian inclined his head and reached for a tankard set before him. “Aye, speak yer mind then.”
Flynn leaned his elbows on the table, glancing across the crowded hall as if measuring the room’s mood.
“First matter’s the cattle dispute along the eastern pasture,” Flynn said. “MacLeary claims three of the beasts belong to him, though our men swear they were born on McGuire land.”
George sniffed quietly and shook his head. “The man’s been making that claim every season.”
Ian rubbed a hand along his jaw as he listened, his voice calm though his thoughts wandered elsewhere. “Then send two witnesses to inspect the herd,” he said. “If the beasts carry our mark, they remain ours.”
George nodded once. “Aye, that will settle it quick enough.”
Flynn shifted slightly and continued, “There’s also the matter of patrols, me Laird. Two riders reported strange tracks along the northern road.”
Ian’s fingers tightened around his tankard as he listened.
“Strange?” Ian asked. “What makes them strange?”
Flynn lowered his voice slightly, though the hall roared with laughter around them. “Too many for traders, too light for soldiers. Often, with campfires deserted. It may be nothing, but the men thought it wise to report.”
"Aye, good they did," Ian replied,
Flynn leaned closer, his tone more serious now. “That ties to the other matter, Ian.”
Ian looked toward him sharply. "What matter?"
I willnae speak of Arianna and the contract.
“Rumors of raiders moving through the hills again.”
Ian’s expression hardened instantly.
“Raiders,” he repeated coldly.
Flynn nodded grimly. “Aye. Farms south of the river say items have gone missing, though none claim to have seen the thieves.”
George sighed heavily beside them. “It’s as if the devils appear in the night and vanish come morning.”
“They’re no ghosts,” Ian growled.
Nearby guards glanced toward the dais at the sudden rise of his voice.
Ian leaned forward, his voice lowering but carrying a dangerous edge.
“Send more riders along the border. Double the watch on the roads.”
Flynn raised a brow slightly but nodded. “Aye, we can do that.”
“I want them found,” Ian continued. “Dragged before the clan if need be.”
George spread his hands calmly. “We’ll see to it, me Laird.”
The conversation carried on around him with less important matters, but Ian’s attention drifted again.
His gaze slid toward the great doors of the hall.
Where is she?
The clan continued pouring inside, warriors laughing and servants weaving between benches, filling goblets. Yet the one face he searched for had not yet appeared. The heat rose in him as the memory of the carriage returned unbidden.
Her flushed cheeks. The softness of her lips. The way she had trembled beneath me touch. Will I be able to keep my restraint?
The thought lingered uneasily in his mind. Yet another fear crept in beside it, quieter but far more troubling.
Or worse… Will she look at me with fear after what I did in the carriage?
George finished the last of his ale and pushed back from the table with a respectful nod.
“Well then, me Laird, I’ll leave ye now.”
Ian gave a small nod in return. “Good evenin’, George.”
The older councilman stepped away into the bustle of the hall, leaving Flynn seated beside Ian with an oddly satisfied look upon his face.
Flynn leaned closer, lowering his voice. “There’s somethin’ I’ve been meaning to tell ye, Ian.”
Ian glanced at him curiously. “Aye? What news have ye got that puts such a grin on yer face?”
Flynn scratched the back of his neck before saying quietly, “Melissa’s with child.”
Ian blinked once in surprise before breaking into a rare grin. “Is she now?” he said, then clapped Flynn hard on the shoulder.
“Congratulations, Flynn Ye did well.”
Flynn laughed softly at that, clearly pleased though trying not to show it too much.
Ian raised a hand toward a passing servant. “Lad,” he called, and the young man hurried over with a bow.
“Bring out the best bottle of whisky from the stores and bring it to me.”
The servant nodded quickly. “Aye, me Laird,” he said before disappearing toward the kitchens.
Ian turned back to Flynn with a satisfied look. “We must celebrate this with a drink.”
Flynn lifted a brow with mock reluctance. “If I must, then I must.”
Then he added more quietly, “We kept it to ourselves for now. Melissa wanted to wait a wee while, though I think she may have told Lady McGuire already.”
Ian’s hand clenched slightly upon the table at the mention of Arianna.
Before he could respond, the noise of the hall shifted.
It did not fall silent entirely, but the voices softened as people glanced toward the great doors. Ian followed their gaze instinctively. Arianna had entered the hall.
For a moment, the world seemed to narrow. He noticed the way the torchlight caught in the waves of her hair. He saw the gentle sway of her gown as she walked through. There was a grace in her step that drew the eye without her seeming to notice.
His heart thudded heavily in his chest.
God help me… she grows more beautiful every day.
Ian forced himself to look away. If he stared any longer, every man in the hall might notice the hunger in his gaze. Arianna approached the dais and stopped.
“Good evening, Ian,” she said softly.
Ian lifted his eyes only briefly and gave a polite nod. “Aye, good evening,” he answered.
His short response felt like a coward’s shield placed between them. He kept his gaze upon the table rather than her face.
Ach. She is here. Do not touch her. Not.
Arianna flinched. The small reply stung far more than anger ever could have. Arianna lowered herself into her seat beside Ian, her fingers folding carefully in her lap.
Does he truly care so little? Has he regretted the carriage so deeply?
A dull ache began forming behind her temples, pulsing slowly like a warning she could not ignore.
Servants soon entered carrying wide platters and steaming bowls, setting them along the tables with practiced ease.
The smell of roasted fish drifted through the hall, mingling with the rich scent of barley stew.
Oat bannocks were stacked high beside roasted root vegetables, while wheels of cheese and jugs of ale appeared at every bench.
The clan quickly fell upon the meal with laughter and cheerful noise. Arianna forced herself to take a small bite of fish, though she scarcely tasted it. Her attention kept drifting toward the man seated beside her.
Ian spoke easily with Flynn next to him.