When she thought of the man currently passed out from too much drink, she wondered if even he could meet those high expectations. Was there a man alive who could? ’Twas doubtful. Mayhap it was time for her to set those silly childhood dreams aside and face reality.
When she looked at her current predicament she had to release a heavy sigh. Nine and ten summers old and she was still searching. Searching for her father as well as a husband who could meet her less-than-reasonable expectations.
Home.
That was all she ever truly wanted. A home to call her very own. A family she could be proud of. A loving husband and children. Was that too much to ask for? She didn’t think so. ’Twasn’t as if she were praying for a grand castle to call home. She never prayed for riches or fine silk dresses or servants to do her bidding. Nay, none of those things would ever make her truly happy. She didn’t want things. She wanted to love and be loved. ’Twas that simple.
But if it were that simple, why was it so hard to attain?
* * *
Night fell across the tiny glen where she’d been forced to make camp. Because she could not move Aiden from where he’d fallen, she had built a fire near him. In life, one must choose their battles wisely. ’Twas easier to build around him than try to move him.
He slept still, even though she had tried numerous times to wake him. The man slept, barely moving; all the while she had made the fire and cooked the fish she had caught. Nary a flinch from him. Daft man.
A heavy mist filled the cold night air, chilling her to the bone. While the fire blazed, it wasn’t quite strong enough to dissipate the damp chill. As the night drew on, she scooted closer and closer to Aiden. By dawn, she was nestled in beside him, her back to his chest, wrapped warmly in the blankets and his arms.
’Twas as glorious a feeling as she had ever felt. Warm and safe and as close to feeling at home as she reckoned she’d ever get.
This.
This is what she had been longing for all her life.
’Twas foolish, she believed, to long for something one would probably never have. For now, she would soak up every moment, every bit of warmth and happiness, much like a squirrel hoarding nuts for winter. She would tuck it all away in the safe confines of her heart’s memory, only to use it on the coldest and loneliest of winter days.
* * *
Aiden woke to warmth. But the body lying next to him, curled into his groin? He hadn’t a clue who she was. Lifting his head ever so slightly, he glanced at his surroundings through sleepy eyes. The sun was just coming over the horizon, painting the sky and morning clouds in deep shades of vermillion, violet and indigo. A cool morning breeze flittered through the trees and tall summer grass.
He had no recollection of how he’d come to be in this glen, lying next to a woman whose face he could not see. She was covered from her toes to her ear in a blanket he did not recognize. The only thing he could clearly see was the top of her dark locks.
Closing his eyes tightly, he fought to remember. Mayhap he was not as awake as he believed and the gods were playing tricks on him again, as they were so often wont to do.
Taking in a slow, deep breath, he caught the clean scent of her. Was it lilacs he smelled?
He tried to resist enjoying the warmth of her body curled against his, for he knew ’twould all evaporate at any moment. ’Twas foolish to allow himself to feel warm or content or happy, for the gods would swoop in and destroy it all. He took in another deep breath, held it and waited. He waited for the dream to turn to horrific nightmare. He waited for the fleeting images of headless bodies, of blood and gore and death and agony to come crashing in to remind him of all he’d done, of who and what he was.
But the nightmare never came.
Time went on, stretching out before him, and still, no nightmare to disturb the quiet of the glen, of this moment.
She stirred against him, sighing contentedly. Aiden lifted his head again, feeling all at once stunned, confused, and more than just a bit hung-over.
For a long moment, he stared in disbelief at the top of her head. Unable to resist not knowing what she might look like, he dared crook a finger around the long, soft locks and pull them away.
Thick, dark lashes, high cheekbones, and full pink lips. He needed only that glimpse of half her face to see just how beautiful she was. She looked vaguely familiar, but from where and whence, he could not place her. What women of sound mind would lie next to him voluntarily? She had to have come from the tavern, he surmised. No woman of good grace, reputation, or family would be here next to him.
But she appeared to be far too beautiful to be a whore. She was far too clean in appearance and smell to be that.
More confusion settled in. Briefly, he allowed himself to think that mayhap he’d spent enough time in his hell on earth as punishment for the man he’d been, and the gods were finally smiling upon him. Was she his reward for all his suffering?
Before his mind could form another thought, this beautiful, sweet smelling lass rolled over to her back. Still asleep, still bundled in the blanket, she smiled softly. He’d never seen a woman more beautiful. Neither had he ever witnessed one asleep, next to him, looking so … content?
His heart stopped beating; his breath stilled; his fingers ached to touch her.
Nay, he chastised himself. Ye do nae deserve such a woman as this.
Slowly, she began to open her eyes and stretch. When she looked up at him with such warm regard and kindness, he did not think his heart would ever beat again. Nay, ’twould continue to thrum as rapidly as the water at the Falls of Clyde.
“Good morn, Aiden,” she said sleepily, her smile growing at the sight of him.
Dumbfounded, he fought to find his voice. “Ye’re real,” he whispered.
She giggled. “Of course I’m real ye d—”
He gave her no time to finish her reply. Mindlessly, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
* * *
As far as kisses went, Rianna thought this one was most splendid.
Soft, warm, and tender, it stole her breath away.
She fell quite happily into the moment, fell away to passion, to wonder, and allowed him to pull her closer. The touch of his hand at the small of her back sent jolts of thrilling excitement up and down her spine. This. This was something else she now realized she longed for.
Pressed against him, she could feel the heat of his chest against her own, could feel his heart pounding against hers. Without any thought or experience, she wrapped one hand around his neck as encouragement.
Her breath hitched when his tongue traced along her bottom lip, his hands caressing her back as if each were on a great exploration.
The kiss deepened, grew and built like a fire gone out of control.
Though she was not ignorant about what could happen between a man and woman, she was completely without any personal experience. Her head began to swim, her breaths came in short bursts, her fingers twitched with wanting more than just his kisses.
Good sense reared its unwelcome head, reminding her of the oath she had taken as a child. It also reminded her she was allowing a man she’d not seen since they were children, touch, kiss and caress her as if they were newly married. What must he think of her?
The inner voice grew louder until it overshadowed her desire to know and feel more. Breaking away from the kiss, she pressed her hand to his chest. “Nay,” she said breathlessly as she fought to free herself from the blankets and his warm, wonderful hold. “Nay!” she exclaimed after freeing herself. Scurrying to her feet, she fled from him, her mind awash in uncertainty and yes, wonder.
Confused, Aiden shook his head and watched as she ran away from him. His arms and his chest felt oddly empty. Unused to such feelings, he sat for a long while, running a hand through his hair. His gut wasn’t telling him anything his mind didn’t already know; he’d behaved appallingly. He should have, at the very least, asked for her name before kissing her. Feeling more and more an ass, he expe
lled a heavy breath before going after her.
It took no time at all to find her. She was standing along the bank of a deep stream, her arms wrapped tightly around her small, delicate waist. The morning sun glinted off her long, dark tendrils, which showed just a hint of auburn.
“Who are ye?” he asked, keeping a safe distance. More for her own safety than his, for he doubted seriously she could do him any true physical harm.
She spun at the sound of his voice, her face bearing a most confused expression. “Ye dunnae remember?”
“Try as I might, I fear I cannot, lass,” he admitted without shame.
Although she wasn’t nearly as angry with him as she was with herself, she found his answer irksome. “Do ye think ye should have asked my name before ye kissed me? Or do ye have a habit of kissing women ye dunnae ken?”
The truth was humiliating. “Nay, I dunnae make a habit of such a thing. But in my defense, ye were layin’ right next to me. And ye did smile.” He knew it sounded stupid the moment the words left his mouth.
“Remind me nae to smile at ye in the future.”
“Please, accept my apologies, lass. I truly did nae mean to upset ye.”
Sensing his apology was sincere, she offered him a shrug, as if to say it didn’t matter. Closing the matter to any further discussion, she said, “We can break our fast before we leave.”
He quirked a confused brow. “Leave?” he asked. “Lass, I still do nae ken who ye are or why or how we came to be here.”
The fact that he did not remember her was not worrisome. It had been years since last they’d seen one another. And yesterday, he’d been so sloshed he fell from their mount. Still, a small part of her wished he had remembered.
“I be Rianna Coultier.”
* * *
He would have been less stunned had she claimed to be Venus.
How many years had it been since Ardanaiseig? ’Twas a lifetime ago. She’d been a wee, cherubic lass of six or seven, with bright green eyes, and a face that seemed to be forever smudged. Out of pity, he had been nice to her one summer’s day. That act of kindness had turned into a friendship: one of the few happy memories of his childhood.
At one time he had considered her family, looked upon her fondly as if she were his little sister. Now she stood before him all grown up. And what a fine looking—nay beautiful— woman she had grown into. Bright green eyes blazed with anger, yet he found he rather liked it. A straight yet delicate nose sat above two full, pink lips that tasted like ambrosia.
It dawned on him then that the gods weren’t smiling favorably upon him. Nay, they’d put this beautiful young woman in his path as another means to taunt him. Nay, she was nothing more than a reminder of all the things he’d missed in life. A reminder of all the things he could never have.
“Are ye well?” she asked, stepping closer. “Ye’ve gone pale.”
The blood had indeed drained from his face. He felt foolish and angry all at once. Especially when she reached out to touch his cheek. He turned it away before she could make contact. “Why are ye here? Why am I here?”
Perplexed, she tilted her head to one side. “Ye truly do nae remember, do ye?”
“I would not have asked ye if I did.”
* * *
Rianna could not understand his sudden change in mood. Why was he so angry?
“Ye remember nothin’ of yesterday?” she asked as she twisted her hand from his grasp.
“I already told ye I did nae.” His words were clipped, harsh.
With a cleansing breath, she steeled her nerves before explaining how she had rescued him from the goal by pretending to be his wife. Thankfully, he listened quietly as she told him the entire story, including how he had slipped from their horse. “When I realized I could nae move ye, I made camp around ye. I even washed the mud from yer face and hands.” She left out the part about how much delight she took in washing his chest and neck. She also neglected to tell him where they were going.
“Why would ye do that?” he asked her, baffled by her tale.
“Ye are my friend. I could nae just leave ye there to rot.” Of course, that was not the only reason. Considering the expression on his face, the ease with which he grew angry, she thought it best to gradually work her way up to that topic.
His expression alone was enough to say he thought her quite daft. “Friend?” he asked as if she’d gone mad.
His question and tone hurt. “Aye, Aiden, ye are my friend. Ye have been since we were children. Or can ye nae remember that either?”
“Rianna, I am nae the same lad I was when last ye saw me,” he told her through gritted teeth.
“And I am nae the same lost little girl ye knew,” she countered. “But none of that matters. Ye were the only true friend I had as a child and for that, I owe you a lifetime of gratitude.” He could not begin to understand, to truly comprehend how much his friendship had meant to her as a little girl. ’Twas doubtful he ever would.
Quietly, she watched as he began to pace back and forth as if trying to figure out some grand mystery. She could not understand why the topic seemed to frustrate him so. When she could take his silence or pacing no longer, she spoke once again. “Aiden, I ken much has happened these many years. We’ve both changed. But one thing that has nae changed and never will, is how grateful I am to ye or how much I admire ye.”
He spun on his heels. “Admire me?” he exclaimed. “Admire me?” He shook his head and turned away. “There is nothin’ about me to admire, lass. Ye do nae ken the first thing about me. If ye did, ye would be appalled, nae lookin’ fondly at me.”
Unable to resist the burning question, she asked, “Why would ye say such a thing?”
“’Tis none of yer bloody business,” he told her angrily. “Trust me when I say ye would nae like the answers.”
There was something hidden just under his anger; she could feel it to her bones. Deciding mayhap that now was not the time to delve into his past or ask him why he hurt so much, she changed the topic. “Ye should bathe and eat before we leave,” she told him as she began to walk back to their makeshift camp.
* * *
He caught the scent of lilacs again when she walked past him. Tamping down the desire to take her in his arms, he kept a good distance as he followed her back to their camp, then watched as she began to light another fire. If she only knew the truth, he mused, she’d be runnin’ for the hills. ’Twould help matters a great deal if she were not so beautiful nor kind.
“Why did ye take me away from Inverness?” he asked, his tone softening, the anger slowly subsiding.
Briefly, her hand paused in midair before she tossed a handful of sticks into the flames. “Ye made me a promise.”
“A promise?” he asked, cocking his head to one side as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Keeping her focus on building the fire, she gave a curt nod. “Aye,” she said, “and I ken ye do nae remember it.”
His shoulders sagged with guilt. “I be sorry, lass, but I was so bloody drunk I can nae remember a thing from yesterday.”
Silence filled the air betwixt them. “Tell me, what promise did I give?”
Another long interval of silence passed before she answered. “Ye promised to take me to Castle Allistair.”
He searched his mind for the smallest recollection but came up empty-handed. Aye, he’d been so drunk yesterday, he could have promised to take her to the moon and ’twould not have surprised him. Unable to fault her for his own behavior, he came and sat next to the fire. “Why are ye goin’ there?”
Grabbing the small bundle of cloth that held dried beef, she took a long time to answer. “Me mother passed away a year ago,” she told him.
“I be sorry fer your loss,” he replied sadly. Ronna Coultier may have been a whore, but she was still Rianna’s mother. That fact alone afforded her some measure of respect. “But that does not explain why you are going to Allistair.”
“Because that is where my father resides,” she s
aid, looking him directly in the eye.
Astounded, he laughed. “Yer father?”
“Aye, my father.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Now, the last I remember,” he said as he leaned back onto his elbows, “yer father was some king from the east, was he nae?”
She did not appreciate his attempt at humor. Angrily, she tossed him the bundle of dried beef, which landed in his lap.
“No, wait! That is nae true. He was a duke, from southern England. Or was he an earl from Ireland?” In the short months he’d known her as a child, her mother had told many tales about who Rianna’s real father was. Each one was more unbelievable than the last.
She pursed her lips into a hard line as her bright green eyes grew dark. “On her deathbed she finally confessed my father’s true identity.”
“On her death bed, ye say?” he asked incredulously. “Well, then it must be the truth!”
“Of course it is, ye daft fool!” she spat at him. “Everyone kens a person does nae lie when they ken they are about to die.”
Aiden snorted derisively. “And how many people have ye watched die, lass?”
* * *
“It matters nae. The fact remains she finally told me the truth,” she replied angrily. Aye, ’twas true her mother had lied to her countless times over the years. It finally got to the point that Rianna quit asking.
In a low, shameful whisper, she told him what had transpired on the eve of her mother’s death. As Ronna lay dying, knowing full well the end was nigh, she told Rianna her father was Lachlan MacAllistair, one of the many cousins to the chief of the MacAllistair clan. He had been a married man when Ronna met him and fell in love. But once he had learned she was with child, he tossed them out of the keep as if they were as disgusting as the contents of a chamber pot. Ronna spent the next years of her life trying to find someone she could love as much as she loved Lachlan. She never did. “So it matters nae how many people I’ve watched die. Me mother finally confessed.”
“It does matter,” he replied. “Ye be headin’ to a keep ye’ve ne’er laid eyes upon, to a man ye’ve ne’er met, in the hopes he’ll claim ye after all these many years.”
Ever My Love: The Lore of the Lucius Ring (The Legend of the Theodosia Sword Book 2) Page 12
