Chapter 24 #2
A creeping sense of urgency tightened his chest. If Flynn was right and Arianna had overheard the council speaking of the clause, then she would believe the worst of him.
And every moment that passed without explanation only strengthened that belief.
He turned back toward the castle, frustration growing with every step.
Then, as he reached the upper corridor near her chambers once more, he saw her.
“Arianna,” he called.
Ian stopped instantly, relief and tension colliding in his chest. She froze.
Slowly, she turned toward him. Her expression was calm, almost carefully so, but the guarded look in her eyes struck him like a blade. Ian approached her with measured steps, forcing his voice to remain steady.
“Arianna, we must speak.”
Her gaze hardened. “There is nothin' to discuss, me Laird.”
She attempted to walk past him. Ian stepped into her path, blocking the corridor.
He did not touch her yet, but his presence alone halted her progress.
Having his body this close to hers stirred a heat within him.
He took a step toward her until her back was against the wall.
He stretched out his hand, resting it on the wall beside her head.
Gods, I want to kiss her. To touch her. To taste her once more.
She looked up at him. He could see her lip tremble slightly and he ached to devour her mouth with his own.
“Arianna,” he said, his voice thick with lust. “Listen to me.”
Her lips pressed together tightly. “I’ve heard enough already,” she replied coldly.
“Ye have nae heard anythin', but ye will hear this,” he said.
With a swift movement, he kissed her, pressing her into the wall. His kiss was demanding, strong.
He heard a whimper escape her, and for a brief moment, she kissed him back. But then she pushed him away and ducked under his arm, stepping away.
Ian reached out and caught her arm before she could get away. His grip was firm but not harsh. He guided her a few steps into a nearby alcove where the corridor widened beside a narrow window.
“Why are ye bein' this way?” he asked.
“I think ye ken why,” she sneered. “Or must I write it out in the form of a contract?”
He groaned. “I didnae ken of the clause until recently,” he said firmly.
Arianna stared at him. “And I am meant to believe that?” she asked.
The disbelief in her voice stung.
“It’s the truth,” Ian insisted.
Her eyes flashed with wounded anger.
“Is that why ye were so patient?” she demanded. “Why ye didnae care if the marriage was consummated?”
Ian blinked in confusion. “What?”
Her voice sharpened as the words spilled out. “Because the contract would reward ye either way?”
The accusation struck him like a physical blow. For a moment, Ian could only stare at her. “You think that’s why I married ye?” he said quietly.
Her silence answered him. The realization settled painfully in his chest. Arianna truly believed every moment between them had been calculated. The walks through the forest, the quiet conversations by the fire, the careful restraint he had shown her, all of it meant nothing in her mind now.
Ian ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Arianna, ye daenae understand…”
“Then explain it,” she said sharply.
He opened his mouth. And stopped. Certain truths could not be spoken so easily. If he revealed the full nature of the council’s concerns and the fragile politics behind the contract, he risked exposing weaknesses within the clan itself.
That hesitation cost him. Arianna saw it immediately. Her expression hardened further.
“Aye,” she said bitterly. “That’s what I thought.”
Ian felt anger rise in his chest. “Do ye truly think so little of me?” he asked.
The words came out harsher than he intended.
Her gaze did not waver. But she said nothing.
The silence between them stretched painfully long.
In that moment, Ian realized something that unsettled him deeply.
Her distrust wounded him far more than any insult from an enemy clan ever could.
He would have faced a hundred blades without hesitation.
Yet standing before her now, he felt strangely defenseless.
“I’ve heard enough,” she said quietly. Arianna finally pulled her arm from his grasp. Then she turned and walked away.
Ian stood frozen as her footsteps faded down the corridor. For several seconds, he considered following her, forcing the conversation to continue. But something in her rigid posture told him it would only make matters worse. So, he remained where he was. Alone in the silent corridor.
And for the first time since this entire ordeal began, Ian realized just how easily everything between them might fall apart.
He dragged a hand across his face and exhaled sharply, trying to steady the anger and frustration churning in his chest. Her words still echoed in his mind like a wound that refused to close.
“Because the contract would reward ye either way.”
The accusation burned deeper the more he thought on it.
Ian turned abruptly and strode down the corridor.
If he stayed inside the castle walls much longer, he feared his temper might break loose entirely, and he would become a tyrant like his father.
He needed air, space, and something other than bitter thoughts to occupy his mind.
The training yard came into view as he pushed through the outer gate.
Warriors still moved about the yard, some sparring while others cleaned weapons along the wooden railing. The afternoon sun hung low over the hills, casting long shadows across the packed earth. Ian barely acknowledged the men as he crossed toward the stable.
“Ian!” Flynn’s voice rang across the yard.
Ian stopped and turned as Flynn hurried toward him, his stride quick and purposeful. The look on his face told Ian immediately that something had happened. Flynn slowed only slightly when he reached him.
“Scouts returned from the northern ridge,” Flynn said.
Ian’s eyes sharpened. “And?”
“They found tracks. They're close.”
Ian felt something dark and eager stir inside him.
“Possibly the raiders,” Flynn confirmed.
A grim smile tugged at the corner of Ian’s mouth. “Well,” he muttered. He turned toward the stable doors. “They couldnae have arrived at a better time.”
Flynn followed close behind him. “I thought ye might say that.”
Several stable lads looked up in surprise as Ian moved quickly to his horse. He grabbed the saddle without hesitation and began fastening the straps with swift, practiced motions.
“We need ten riders,” Ian said.
Flynn nodded. “Already called for them, they're comin'.”
Ian swung into the saddle in one fluid motion. “Good.”
Within moments, the selected warriors gathered, mounting their horses with eager energy. The possibility of battle always stirred excitement among the clan’s fighters. Flynn rode up beside Ian as the last rider joined the group.
Callum adjusted his reins and grinned. “Been too quiet lately.”
“Aye,” another warrior added. “Let’s see if these ghosts bleed like the Laird says.”
Ian’s eyes flashed with fierce anticipation. “They bleed,” he said firmly. “If we catch them.”
Ian lifted his hand. “Onward to the north ridge,” he called.
The riders spurred their horses forward as one. They thundered through the castle gate and onto the winding trail that cut through the hills. The wind rushed against Ian’s face as his horse surged forward beneath him. The pounding of hooves filled his ears while the cool air burned in his lungs.
For the first time all day, the tension inside him found an outlet.
The rhythm of the ride steadied him. His blood coursed hot through his veins, every sense sharpened by the hunt.
Behind him the warriors rode hard, their laughter and shouts carried on the wind.
Flynn guided them across the narrow ridge path that overlooked the valley below.
After nearly an hour of riding, Ian raised his hand. “Tracks here!”
The riders slowed quickly as they reached a patch of soft earth near a stream crossing. Ian dismounted immediately and crouched beside the ground. Hoofprints cut deep into the soil, several horses passing through in a hurried line.
“How many?” Callum asked.
Ian studied the marks carefully. “Six… mayhap seven,” he said.
Flynn scanned the surrounding hills. “Fresh?”
Ian pressed his fingers lightly against the edge of a print. “An hour,” he estimated. “Two at most.”
Flynn cursed under his breath. “Close then.”
Ian rose and swung back into the saddle. “Spread out along the ridge. If they’re headin' east, we’ll cut them off.”
The guards moved quickly, guiding their horses through the tall grass and scattered trees. For a time, they followed the trail easily enough, the hoofprints marking a clear path through the valley.
Then the ground hardened. The tracks grew faint. Finally, they vanished entirely among a stretch of rocky terrain. Ian dismounted again and searched the ground, frustration tightening his jaw. “Damned clever bastards.”
Callum rode a slow circle nearby. “They knew where the rock would swallow their trail.”
Ian scanned the surrounding hills, his eyes narrowing as he studied the landscape.
Nothing moved. No riders. No smoke. No sound beyond the wind whispering through the grass.
“We lost them,” Flynn said grimly.
Ian’s jaw clenched. He had ridden hard for the fight, eager to burn off the fury simmering inside him. Instead, the raiders had slipped through his grasp like shadows once again.
Callum spat into the dirt. “Ghosts again.”
Ian turned his gaze toward the distant hills. “Nay,” he said quietly.
His voice carried a dangerous promise. “Next time we’ll catch them.”
Yet even as he spoke, his mind betrayed him. Not with thoughts of pursuit or strategy, but with the memory of Arianna’s guarded eyes.