Looking into the fire, Ian answered, “I dinna ken what she is like. We have never met. However, her dowry is needed to secure my clan’s future. Hagan, my brother by marriage, has worked hard to find a clan with what we needed so I will marry.”
Claire was dumbfounded by the answer. “Without meeting her first? Just for the money?” No fairy tale here. “What does your bride think of all of this?”
“We will meet when she arrives. There will be some time before the marriage takes place. She will most likely not be asked her mind in all of this. ‘Tis for her father to decide who she marries.” Ian studied Claire as he spoke.
Claire tried to digest what she had heard. This all seems too wrong, like something out of the Dark Ages. Oh crap, this is the Dark Ages. No wonder he is so calm. This is perfectly normal. Sorry, mom, not getting married here either, forgot to pack my shoes and my dowry.
“Does everyone marry this way?”
Ian answered with a small smile. “Nay, Claire. In truth, my parents frowned on such matches. But need has driven me to it. The well-being of my clan comes first. I sought a different match, one with the Campbells. They are neighbors and a strong, fine clan. Their eldest daughter is of an age to marry, and she is a bonnie, sweet lass. We would have had many a fine bairn.”
“Did she say no?” Claire couldn’t help but note the way his eyes lit up at the mention of this other woman and wondered why it bothered her.
With a smile one could only call smug, Ian answered, “The lass agreed to the match. We are well suited to one another. Her father would not meet the dowry I need. The Campbell clan offers a strong alliance, connections, and the lass is lovely. This allows him to hold onto his coin.”
Don’t be stupid. Of course, he had someone. Like Ian was waiting for me? I need to change the topic and my line of thinking. This is good. He’s engaged or something close to it. Plus, he has a thing for this other woman. They always have a thing for another woman. Stop now. New line of thinking please, and more information. His sister, that sounds safe. He brought her up first.
“Did your sister marry like that, arranged, I mean?”
Ian laughed. “Not even a little arranged. Aliana wed the man she chose. That tale is for her to tell. My sister would be a wee bit angry if I did the telling. Ask her yourself, and she will fill an evening with her words.” He rose then and went to the horse and grabbed what looked like a blanket and brought it back to the fire.
“Why were you tied to a tree?” Ian’s gaze left hers with the question.
“There were four of us. We were setting up camp for the night and enjoying a meal when a dozen men attacked us.” Ian paused to stare at the fire and then continued, “The attackers were armed and trained. The men with me were young, and it was a grand adventure for them to travel beyond our lands.” Ian paused to add a log to the fire. “The battle was short as they fell quickly. One of them called for me as he fell, using my title. I was surrounded and alone. The men who attacked said I was a fine prize. I lied and said my clan would ransom their laird. My clan would have been hard pressed to arrange for the coin they would have asked. Then I was tied to the tree where you found me. ‘Tis not a fine tale.” Ian stopped speaking as he placed more wood on the fire.
“So you are being chased so they can ransom you?” Claire asked, believing she could understand this much. Even though, to her, a battle to the death sounded extreme just to be able to collect ransom.
“Aye, lass, so it would seem.” Ian’s voice was full of disgust.
“You got away to live to fight another day. There is nothing wrong with that.” That sounded like something Michael would say at the dojo.
Ian looked Claire in the eye, and relief showed on his face.
Sitting before the fire, she gazed up at the starry expanse. A sliver of the moon rose above the tree line. Ian caught her tired gaze. “A new moon, they say ‘tis a fine time to begin a journey.”
“Whoever said that probably meant a different kind of journey than mine.” She knew her voice held sadness, and she looked back into the fire.
“I did not mean to trouble you. ‘Tis just a saying.” With a lighter tone, he added, “Hopefully this fine weather will hold and we will travel quickly on the morrow. Mayhap just one more night on the hard ground.”
“Fine weather? It’s freezing out here.” Cold and exhausted, Claire couldn’t hide her yawn.
“True, spring has been slow in coming again this year. Here,” Ian said, laying his plaid on the hard ground and placing the blanket next to it, near the fire. “Sleep, we need some rest. The morrow will hold a long day of travel.”
Claire raised her eyebrow in question.
He might be engaged, but seriously? I really haven’t thought about the practical aspects of traveling, here, like this, with him. It is dark, cold, we only have a small fire, and I have nothing, absolutely nothing.
“Claire, I see your face. Be at peace. You made it clear you dinna offer, and I will nay take. There is but one blanket, and ‘tis yours this night. I sleep by your side as an offer of protection, no more. We are both exhausted. I missed a night’s rest, as have you. I will sleep with my back to you.” With that said, Ian lay down on the ground, wrapping the plaid around him, sword at his side, and faced away from the fire.
The fire held no answers. That much she had figured out. She didn’t want to feel the isolation that crept over her. Lost wasn’t big enough to describe it. There was nothing to explain what she felt. Alone was part of it. Hopeless had not yet entered the equation, and for that, she was grateful. Stealing a quick glance at Ian’s back, she realized that he was the only person she knew here and now.
Ian seemed to be okay, better than okay. Their conversation tonight had made her comfortable. While they talked, nothing else had seemed to matter. Claire had hung on his every word and expression. She wondered briefly if the situation made him so fascinating or if her hormones had finally woken from their long slumber. Shaking away the thought quickly, she knew this was definitely not the right time or place for these ideas.
Placing a few more branches on the fire before she moved, Claire finally found her way to the blanket, praying that the exhaustion she felt would win. She hoped the morning would find her back in her own bed or maybe even the parking lot, complete with a concussion and all. Somehow she knew neither would happen. Curling into a ball under the rough blanket, Claire refused to let hopelessness take hold.
Letting Claire have her time for thought before the fire, Ian attempted to quiet his mind. Before he saw Claire in her doorway, Ian had assumed death was a possible end to his day. Lying on the hard ground, his life had never been more precious. To say he was in awe of the woman who had saved him was an understatement. Her skills in battle were like none he had ever seen. The sharpness of her mind left him wondering. She was unlike any woman he had ever met. He had been far too pleased to learn there was no man who claimed her heart. The feel of her against him while they rode brought images that should be left alone. He had a blood debt to honor; all other thoughts needed to be ignored.
Ian waited, as Claire sat staring at the flames, not sure what type of comfort to offer. Even with the questions and their conversation, he had seen uncertainty written all over her lovely features. Waiting for what seemed like hours, she finally rose. Turning away onto his side, Ian gave the woman the only privacy he could.
Fighting sleep, Ian waited for the sound of tears. Any lass would be expected to cry at such a time, separated from her home. He cringed as he heard a light sniffle or two. Then there was nothing except the soft sounds of her sleep-filled breathing. Again the lass surprised him. Pleased with her show of strength, Ian felt his body fall toward slumber.
Ian startled at the whimper Claire uttered in her sleep. He rolled closer and curled his body around hers, gently touching her shoulder, trying to give co
mfort without waking her. She sighed softly and quieted. At the sound of her sigh, Ian shifted closer. Telling himself he offered only security, he wrapped his body around her. Ian was surprised by how grateful he was to feel Claire relax in his hold. It only took a moment to convince his mind that she would sleep better this way, surrounded by his strength. As warmth from the embrace seeped into him, Ian felt sleep arrive. Claire’s head tucked under his chin, and Ian knew no more.
Chapter 3
I love this dream. The feel of him behind me, holding me, and strong hands moving to caress me, it is pure ecstasy. Stretching my neck deeper into the pillow, his warm mouth finally finds me. His soft kisses and soft groans of delight whisper into my ear, and heat builds as his hands roam my body freely, moving up my stomach to gently cover my breast. Want like I have never known fills my being. I’m wearing way too many clothes in this dream.
His gentle hands push away my sweater. My lungs fill with air to push my flesh fully into his hands, all the while I’m whimpering as sparks course through my body. When his thumb finds my hardened peak, even through my tank top, a soft cry escapes my lips. His touch circles, demands that I feel him, as if my body has always waited for his touch. I push back into his front, asking for more and needing everything his touches promises. I know this dream. Now he speaks the one phrase that erases my inhibitions . . .
“Ahhh, lass, you smell of sweet summer berries.” Ian groaned into her ear.
That is not what my dream man says. He also doesn’t have whiskers. Claire’s eyes opened with a start, seeing grass, rocks, and a rough blanket. Before she could react, Ian’s hand switched to the other breast, causing her to make a noise she did not believe she was capable of making.
I need to stop this. Wait, why do I need to stop this? His hands feel so good, so warm. He smells like heaven.
Claire whimpered in disappointment as his hands moved down to her stomach and fingertips danced in small circles as they found the top of her pants. His hand searched for and quickly found the skin her clothing hid. Moving slowly, painfully slowly, his warm fingers dipped into her waistband.
That’s why this stops. “Ian, move your hand now.” She did her best to suppress the whimper while she said it.
Circling his fingers once again over her stomach while moving his lips and tongue over her neck, he asked, “Like this, lass?” Ian’s voice was barely a husky whisper.
Forcing the words to come, Claire spoke with a hitch in her voice. “Remove your hand, now, Ian.” Surprisingly, he did. She rolled away and rose to her feet on shaky legs.
Why would I react to him like that? I never respond like that in real life, not ever. It took all of her concentration to straighten her clothing and calm her breathing. How dare he violate my favorite dream? Isn’t he engaged or something? It wasn’t enough to be stuck here. Oh no, not enough. Well, I’m not going to put up with this. Pivoting to face Ian and with a voice that was not as steady as she would have liked, she demanded, “What in the hell were you doing? I was asleep and you, you . . .”
“Forgive me, lass. ‘Twas cold, and I was merely looking for a warm place for my hands,” Ian said with an inviting smile on his face.
Well, there’s a good morning slap in the face. She glared at the man as she spoke. “Warm your hands? Warm your hands! What in the hell is wrong with you? Warm your hands?” She searched for the right words and felt certain when she found them. Staring at his ridiculous grin, she said, “This is how you treat me? I saved your life twice. I am probably stuck here forever, and you treat me like a, like a . . . a hand warmer?” Then she added with vehemence, “And I did not offer you anything.”
Ian’s face fell. She had hit him right in his pride. Speaking quickly, he said, “I am not a man to take advantage of a sleeping woman. Claire, I meant no insult, truly. We were both sleeping. ‘Twas an accident, and it will nay happen again.” Ian shifted to stand while groaning uncomfortably.
“Serves you right,” Claire mumbled as she stormed into the trees. Some of her anger faded as she heard Ian’s soft laughter at her comment.
Pushing through the foliage, the horrible apology raced through her mind. “‘Twas merely an accident. I was sleeping too,” he had said. “My hands were cold, and you were warm. It meant nothing that I touched you like that, that you enjoyed me touching you like that. Meant nothing at all. You were just warm, not an attractive and desirable woman, nope, just warm. It won’t happen again. I would never touch you like that if I were conscious.”
She groaned as she realized she had to go back and face him. I’ve got two choices: embarrassment or abandonment. Both options suck.
At that moment, Claire decided two very important things: first, she hated peeing the woods, and second, she hated the voice in her head even more.
She found Ian waiting by the horse. There was little trace that they had even been there. No trace of what had almost happened. The black bag was waiting in his hands. “Come, Claire. We should set out. We can stop to break our fast when we find fresh water.” Ian handed her the hairband he had removed earlier. Claire quickly put her hair up without meeting his gaze.
At least we aren’t going to talk about it. Accepting his help to mount, she then took her bag. Ian surprised her by placing the blanket around her like a giant shawl. “Thank you.” Shocked by the gesture, it was all she could think of to say. So much for holding onto my righteous anger. Anger would have been easier. Apologetic, nice behavior is not easy.
“The air still has the morning chill. This will keep you warm.” He moved to settle in behind her. Ian held her as he had the day before, around the waist. As he leaned in for one last smell of her hair, he said, “You do smell like sweet summer berries.” Without any hesitation, he placed a kiss to the side of her head.
“Let’s just go, Ian.” She hoped he had not seen the smile on her face. The grin she felt against her hair dashed the notion of not being caught.
Claire was surprised at how quickly the morning had passed, given the way the day had started. She worked hard to ignore the body wrapped around hers as they rode on the horse. Ian held her a bit too close as they traveled, and she was dismayed that her body enjoyed the contact. Her mind decided that focusing on Ian was probably easier than focusing on when and where the previous day had left her stuck.
They stopped mid-morning to eat and refill the water bottle. Traveling at a slower pace, they talked, awkwardly at first, but then Claire had asked him to describe his lands and home. Ian spoke with such passion and pride. He told her about the people she would meet and their stories and lives, the farmlands waiting to be planted, the village nestled below the keep and the families who lived there, all who depended on him. The keep had been rebuilt in stone, completed by his great-grandfather. This was a luxury as most were still made of wood. When Ian spoke of warm baths and large fireplaces, she looked forward to the end of this journey. Claire could tell there was more, something he wasn’t telling her. It didn’t seem to matter. What she heard most was the sense of pride, his feeling of responsibility, and the desire to be there. When Ian spoke of all these things, she was surprised to realize she wished to see it, too.
Ian knew their conversation was safer than the acknowledgment of how fine Claire felt in his arms. He almost believed he held her tightly to keep her from falling off the horse and not because his body craved hers. Ian forced away the memory of how fine she had felt in his arms at dawn. He was still dismayed at what he had done; she had made no offer, yet he had attempted to take her. There was no apology that would make that better. Claire had saved his life, and his debt would be paid.
She was so eager to listen to what he said. In truth, Ian could not remember passing so many words with one woman. As they journeyed, Ian pointed out the landmarks and how he found their path. He spoke of home, and she listened and questioned the details of everyday life.
&nbs
p; Claire spoke of her mother with grand tales that made him laugh. The tales of Brooke were even better. Ian did not understand all of her words, but gathered their meaning. She was educated in a manner he could not believe. So many years with tutors and still seeking more knowledge, that was a trait he admired. She was a woman willing to work for what she wanted. In a very different situation, he knew she would be a fine lass to bring home.
“Hopefully the rain will pass soon,” Ian said, hoping to cheer her. It was past midday, and the sky had grown dark. Wind, rain, and thunder were the only sounds they heard. Stopping for a quick break, Claire made her way into the trees.
As she joined him again by the horse, she heard a sound in the distance, and he identified it. “Horses, many of them, and riding fast.” Ian knew they couldn’t outrun them, not with both of them on his tired beast. “Quickly, lass, into the woods.”
Running for the cover of the trees, they waited and watched eleven men ride past them. If one had bothered to look to the right, they would have been seen, as the leaves were not yet fully open. Fortune hid them.
After the men had passed, Claire asked, “Was that them? Did you recognize anyone?” She was shaking.
“I believe ‘twas the same group, but ‘tis hard to ken for certain. We need to change our course. I dinna wish to ride into their backs.” Ian could see her discomfort and felt his own, her shaking due not only to the cold rain, but also to the fear of pursuit. Making camp would be risky and difficult given the weather. Placing Claire back on the horse and wrapping them both in the blanket, with what little protection it offered, they took a different path.
[2015] The Draig's Woman Page 4
