The Draig's Woman

by Wadler, Lisa Dawn

  The wonder and curiosity on her face were such a breathtaking combination. Her hand explored the game piece, and he remembered the pleasure her fingers had brought to his skin. “That I do,” Ian finally answered. “‘Tis a fine tale, do you wish to hear it?” He vowed he would tell her every tale he had ever heard if it meant she would be near.

  “I’ve noticed everything seems to involve a story.” Claire put the piece down and began to appreciate the fur covering her seat, her fingers running through the soft fur.

  He held in a groan as she caressed the furs. His body remembered the feel of soft hands on his back, and he forced his mouth to respond to the comment. “Aye, lass, there is. ‘Tis the way of things.”

  “What is the way of things?” asked Neala as she entered with pitcher and two cups.

  “That everything has a story.” Claire answered, as the woman approach.

  “That there is, child. When you have finished with the books and spend your time with me, I will tell the ones I ken.” Neala’s comment was offered with kindness, not reproach.

  Ian glanced up at Neala. “The accounts will keep her busy for some time.”

  Neala responded with a small laugh. “Nonsense, we are all aware she is almost caught up from the mess you left. I told her I would teach her some of the things she should ken how to do in this place. Claire needs to ken how to care for a household.”

  Ian wanted to say that this was not needed; there were plenty of lasses here to manage the laundry, the cooking, and the rest of life’s tasks. He knew that Neala was preparing Claire for a home of her own; someday she would marry and need to handle a household. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. A large gulp of wine did not erase the unwanted images.

  “Ian was going to tell me where the chessboard came from.” Claire’s words were clearly meant as an explanation and a shift in conversation.

  Ian knew she could feel the tension from him. Her posture was now more alert. It was awkward; they both knew what Neala was saying without it being said. Their time together was going to be short lived. It was probably meant as a reminder for both of them.

  “Now that is a fine one. Enjoy the tale and your game,” Neala said while reaching to touch Claire’s hair. “When you wake, I will help you wash out whatever the wee one has gotten in your hair. See you at first light, child. I will leave the door open in case you have further need of me.”

  Shifting position slightly in the chair, Claire reached to touch the bottom edge of her hair. “She’s right, I’m a bit sticky.”

  Ian laughed. “I will not tell a soul. In truth, your hair does nay look anything but fine.” She flushed at the compliment.

  Holding his lingering gaze, Claire asked, “Who moves first?”

  Taking another sip of wine, he said, “You begin, and I will start your tale.” Ian saw the pawn begin the match and smiled as Claire reached for the cup of wine. This is what an evening should be, Ian mused, quiet conversation before the fire, a moment to be relished. “The set was made by the war chief of my great-grandmother’s people. It was given as a gift to my grandfather when he was a young lad.”

  There was awe in Claire’s voice. “This is almost too old to play with, and in my time, this would be considered an antique.” She answered his silent confusion. “We tend to put older things away and out of use so we don’t break them.”

  “Then we would have no game tonight.” Ian could only stare as she studied the board then marvel as she captured his knight. “Well played, lass.” He moved to threaten her bishop and smirked as she frowned at the move.

  “So it’s going to be that kind of game, is it?” Claire raised her eyebrow in challenge, causing him to laugh. “That wasn’t much of a story.”

  “That was not the story, just how the game came to my hands. The tale lies in my great-grandmother, Samantha. My ancestor, Faolan, met her and her warriors on the road as he traveled home. ‘Tis said that upon meeting her he tried to trade his dagger for her.”

  Claire looked up in disbelief. “You have got to be kidding me. Are you saying your great-grandfather tried to buy a woman he just met?”

  “I ken it a strange tale. They say Faolan was so moved by her beauty that he acted without thought.” Never before had Ian understood the compulsion that set this story in motion until now. The fire played in Claire’s hair and warmed her face, and the light from the candles made her soft brown eyes shine bright. That her mind matched her beauty was unfathomable. To trade a cherished dagger for such a woman, what man would not?

  “What happened? Did they sell her?” The curiosity was evident in Claire’s question.

  “Nay, her war chief was acting as leader, sheltering her. When the offer was made ‘tis said Samantha rose to take charge and belittled my ancestor for being a fool. Raiders then attacked the two parties, and she saved my ancestor’s life in battle. She and her men were brought here as honored guests.”

  Claire asked with wide eyes, “If Faolan had acted so badly, why in the world would she go with him?”

  This was the part of the tale that concerned him. He didn’t know how she would react. “They were in need of shelter. The band of warriors had traveled a great distance and almost a thousand years.” Ian waited as Claire started to understand what was said and saw the moment his meaning took hold.

  The color drained from her face. Ian handed her the cup and helped her take a drink. “I told you that there were tales of others when we met. I hoped such a story would bring you comfort. Truly, I did not mean to upset you.”

  Claire reached over the game and touched his hand. “You didn’t upset me, it’s all just so . . . so . . . so your great-grandmother was from my time?”

  Ian turned his hand to hold hers in his grip and felt her soft skin against his palm. He was left only with cold when she pulled away. “So the tale goes.” Touching his chest where the clan tattoo resided, offering a smile as he spoke, “‘Tis also said she bore his mark on her skin.”

  Claire stared at where his hand rested. “She had the same tattoo?” Her voice held only wonders as she asked the question.

  Her fingers touched and rubbed together. Knowing she thought of the minutes her hand had traced his mark, Ian said, “Aye, Claire. ‘Tis said that she was a warrior and also very wise. She and her men were responsible for rebuilding the keep in stone.”

  With a soft laugh, she said, “It does explain some things. I wondered about the hot water system for the baths and the somewhat conventional kitchen, and it’s a lot cleaner here than I expected, given when we are.”

  “‘Tis true. I have been to many another keep and am always shocked by the filth that surrounds them.” Ian waited as she made the next move.

  “Is there more to the story?”

  Ian explained the great battle that took place, a battle for the lands belonging to the clan. He told all he knew of the aftermath of their victory. The building of the new keep was in part due to Samantha’s wisdom and in part due to the gold and silver she brought. In truth, he did not know much of building. Ian spoke of the great love between his great-grandparents and of the six children they had and of their lives as he had heard it told. She sat mesmerized and listened to his every word. The only detail he left out was the one he feared she would blame him for: his great-grandmother Samantha had opened the door between times.

  Claire sat back in the chair. She reached for the cup and indulged in a large drink.

  “Did I err in telling this to you?” Ian asked hesitantly.

  Though she faced the flames, he caught her soft smile as the tale settled within her mind. She turned to find Ian watching her intently. “No, you didn’t. I’m glad you told me. It explains a lot of what I see here and why you never questioned my . . . my arrival. I’m just trying to put it all together in my mind.”

  “I understand
, ‘tis a big tale.” Ian blinked in amazement as she laughed.

  “A big tale is quite the understatement. Do you have any more? Are there more stories of people like me?” Claire asked as she looked expectantly at him.

  “There are no others like you” was the reply not made. Ian closed his eyes at the thought. Now it was his turn to study the flames. Finally, he answered, “There may be, lass. I will save those for another evening.”

  “That may be for the best. I think I have had all I can handle for one night.” Claire looked over the board. “Your move.”

  Taking her pawn in hand, he said, “You did a fine thing this night helping my sister with the wee one.” As hoped, her expression brightened at the mention of Cerwyn.

  “It was no big deal. Aliana was so tired. It would have been cruel to let her handle him. She needs to rest.” Trying hard not to smile, Claire removed his remaining bishop from the board.

  “Dinna look so innocent, lass. I see what piece of mine you hold in your hand.” Feigning anger was difficult when he just wanted to laugh. The joy of the evening was too great for Ian to measure. “For someone without children you dinna seem fashed by his foul spirits.”

  Claire looked past Ian as she told of the times she had cared for Michael’s three children. “The last time I had them all, the youngest, Ethan, decided to start cutting his molars. I had them for a long weekend. Michael and Sarah had gone away for a few days. The first night was easy. The next two were miserable. The poor little guy had a stuffed head, and his cheeks were bright red, and he was hurting. We spent those two nights walking and sitting up in the rocking chair. It was the only way to get him to sleep. By comparison, Cerwyn was super easy.”

  Her expressions mirrored her love for the children as she reminisced. “This Michael must have had great trust in you to leave his family in your care.”

  “I’ve known the kids since they were born. My time with them was always something I enjoyed.” Claire’s heartbreak was visible in her eyes. She added, “I’m grateful for Cerwyn and that he accepts me. Chasing him around the grounds in the morning makes things feel normal.”

  Claire was trying to get past it, but he saw the flash of pain. Ian kept forgetting there was so much and so many that she had left. He offered, “Mayhap the new bairn will be a lass.”

  Moving her queen on the board, she said, “That would be nice. Little girls are fun, too. It would be interesting seeing Hagan with a growing daughter. He’ll be worried non-stop.”

  A wee lass, it would be a fine thing to witness Claire with such a bairn. Ian was going to ask if she wished for children of her own, but that was one question not needed. If she took such care for the child of another, he knew she would make a fine mother. His eyes closed as he added one more reason to the large list of what was special about Claire.

  Her voice ended his sad trail of thought. “You look like you’re ready to fall asleep. I should go.” She started to stand, and his hand went up to reach hers across the table, effectively stopping her motion.

  “Nay, I was just thinking of my next move.” Ian looked over at the board and frowned. “Are you going to say it?”

  “Checkmate, Ian.” Claire gave his hand a light squeeze as she pulled away. “Thanks for the game and the tale. You were right, it was a fine way to pass the time.”

  Ian walked with her to the door of the chamber, and as she moved to leave, he asked, “Will you join me tomorrow night? A chance to mayhap best you in this game?” He could see the “nay” on her lips ready to be spoken. They both knew it was wrong to spend this time alone, with no one present. Still, he wanted it, time alone with Claire. Speaking quickly, “‘Tis merely a game. There can be no harm in this.”

  Claire’s answer came fast, “A rematch it is then.”

  The smile covered his face with the promise of another evening with her before the fire. Ian said, “Then I will make sure to leave the hall earlier to allow us more time.” A look of uncertainty crossed her features. He knew instantly she also felt it too—the pull toward the other, the one thing never spoken between them, and the reason they should not spend their evenings together. The quiet of the evening farewell placed them face-to-face, close enough to touch with a kiss, merely a breath away. Ian saw the falsehood in her responding smile, her want covered by polite courtesy.

  She looked away. “Good night, Ian.”

  Chapter 11

  Michael’s voice rang out through the dojo. “What are you, half asleep? Focus, Claire, or you are going to get hurt.”

  “Maybe if you would stop trying to hit me so hard, Michael, this would be easier.” Claire dodged his swing as her left foot connected with his padded ribs in a perfectly executed side-kick. It worked exactly as she had hoped, and finally she knocked her teacher out of the ring. “Half asleep, my ass, I win this round, and you know it!”

  Michael removed his protective headgear and swiped a hand across his damp brow. “I didn’t think you would be able to keep up. I thought you were getting lazy on me.”

  Claire laughed as she took off her own headgear. “Me, lazy? You should know better than that. I may be far away from the dojo, but I get my workout in every day. There is more than enough space in my chamber for some yoga, Pilates, and some basic moves.”

  Michael looked at her and shook his head. “Maybe not lazy, but you are definitely tired. I can see it in your eyes. You shouldn’t stay up so late, not every night and definitely not with him.”

  Claire knew she stood a little straighter while answering, “It’s only been four or five nights. I’m not doing anything wrong. We play chess, drink a little wine, and talk. It is hardly misbehaving. Besides, I’m a big girl, I can stay up late if I want.”

  Michael held out his hands and motioned for her to calm down. “Hey, relax. Just trying to be a bit helpful here. You two spend a lot of time together. I just don’t want to see you hurt when that changes.”

  Claire bent to remove the rest of her padding. “I know it’s going to change. I know the bride is coming soon, very soon. It’s just chess. There really isn’t much else to do at night.”

  “How about getting some sleep?”

  “Michael, I’ll have plenty of time to sleep very soon.” She took a breath and placed her gear in its bag. “We’re just friends, and we leave the door open so people don’t assume things they shouldn’t.”

  Now it was Michael’s turn to laugh. “Friends, that’s what you’re going to call it? First of all, you had sex with him, and friends don’t do that. Friends also don’t find any excuse possible to touch. Ian touches you whenever he can.” Gauging her reaction, he said, “Claire, you do realize that, don’t you?”

  Claire replied, “Ugh, now you sound just like Hagan. Ian is just being courteous.”

  “Don’t give me that crap. This is me you are talking to. The man wants you. It’s in every move and gesture he makes. What’s worse is that you want him, too. Your day is spent waiting for your time alone with Ian. Plus, you wait for those small touches. Admit it.” Michael sighed as Claire looked away from him.

  Still facing away from Michael, she answered, “I know that. Believe me, I am aware of everything. Do you think I planned for this? Do you think I want this? It truly sucks. Ian is so amazing and sweet and so many things I never knew existed. For the first time in my life there is someone that I . . . that I . . .” Her words failed as she felt Michael’s hand on her shoulder. Immediately, she turned in for the hug she instinctively knew he would offer.

  Holding her and speaking softly, Michael said, “You did the right thing. I know you are aware of that. His world is so different from ours. The needs of his people have to come first, even if the cost is a bit of happiness. You have always made me proud. The fact that you are dealing with everything that has been handed to you and everything that has been denied to you, my pride just kee
ps growing. Live your life with honor, Claire. In the end, it’s all that matters. Be able to hold your head high knowing that you are doing the right thing.”

  Stepping away from his hold, Claire replied, “I’m trying, Michael. Every day I am trying.”

  Michael spoke with the tone he reserved for classes. “Don’t try, do. You’ve done a good job with his business, just as you always did with mine. Trust your instincts, Claire. You are always at your best when you follow your instincts.”

  Claire found some peace in his words. Doing the right thing, who knew it could be so hard? Noticing Michael’s face change, she asked, “What is it?”

  Michael looked her up and down and replied, “Next time we spar, try to dress more appropriately. No wonder it took you so long to take me out.”

  Looking around to face the mirrored wall of the dojo, Claire noticed her long blue gown. “We all dress this way. Honestly, it’s more comfortable than you think it might be.”

  “It suits you somehow.” With the small compliment, Michael turned to walk to the offices. Over his shoulder, he called out, “Claire, you forgot something.”

  She laughed at the remark. “What are you talking about, I never forget anything.” Still waiting for a reply, she said, “Michael, what are you talking about?” Her mind raced and still she had no idea what she could have missed. She was fairly certain Michael wouldn’t have said that without a reason.