She stood, smoothing her skirts, and inclined her head stiffly. Without waiting for his response, she turned and walked away from the table. Ian’s gaze followed her despite himself. Her hips swayed beneath the fabric, graceful and infuriating.
He remained seated, his hands clenched around his cup. The music swelled, laughter rising again as though nothing had passed between them. Yet his blood burned hotter than before. Ian watched until she disappeared into the crowd, already knowing this marriage would be a far greater battle than any he had fought on the field.
Ian was still staring toward the crowd when George, the councilman approached, a broad smile fixed upon his face. “Afine weddin’, me Laird,” George said, raising his cup. “The hall’s full, the clans are pleased, and the alliance is sealed.”
Ian shifted his gaze to him, unimpressed. “Aye,” he said flatly, “ye look pleased enough for the both of us.”
George chuckled, mistaking the edge in Ian’s voice for modesty. “Ye’ve done the clan a great service this day,” he went on. “A strong wife from a respected house, and heirs soon enough, God willin’, perhaps even this very night.”
Ian’s jaw tightened. “Mind yer tongue,” he warned. “What passes between me and me wife is nae council business.”
George’s smile thinned, though he kept his tone mild. “With respect, it becomes council business when the future of the clan is at stake.” He leaned closer. “Peace is fragile, and heirs steady it.”
Ian’s eye darkened. “And meddlin’ breaks it,” he said. “Ye’d do well to remember who leads here.”
George straightened, a flicker of irritation slipping through his careful calm. “We only act for the good of McGuire,” he said. “Just as we did when we ensured this marriage came to pass.”
Ian rose slowly to his full height, towering over him. “Ye ensured nothin’,” he growled. “Ye advised, and I agreed…once.”
George stepped back, cowering. He lowered into a deep bow. “Of course, me Laird. I apologize for overstepping.” The words stuttered out of his mouth with trembling lips.
Ian lifted his cup at last, his expression cold. “Daenae let it happen again.”
CHAPTER SIX
The music surged and dipped as the dancers spun across the great hall, and Ian’s gaze cut through the crowd like a blade. He saw Arianna laughing, her hand resting in that of another man as they danced, her skirts flaring as she turned. Something dark and violent flared in his chest, hot enough to steal his breath. Before sense could temper him, he was already moving.
He reached them quickly, his presence forcing space between them.
“That’s enough,” Ian growled, his voice cutting through the music. He fixed the man with a hard stare. “Release her.” Before the fellow could so much as open his mouth, Ian took Arianna by the waist and pulled her free, turning her sharply into his arms.
“Och, what are ye doin’?” Arianna demanded as he drew her into the dance without pause.
Her brows knit as she looked up at him, startled and indignant.
Ian’s grip was firm, his jaw clenched. “Ye shouldnae be dancin’ with other men,” he said lowly.
She blinked at him in disbelief. “Other men?” she repeated. “Ian, that was me brother, Marcus.” Her mouth fell open slightly. “Have ye truly lost yer senses?”
The words struck him, cold and sharp, and his step faltered for half a beat.
“Yer… brother?” he said, the rage cracking just enough to let reason in.
Why does jealousy enter me thoughts at all? I daenae ken her well.
A muscle jumped in his cheek. “Then it was me own folly.” His tone hardened again almost at once. “But it doesnae change what I mean to say.”
Arianna stiffened in his arms as they continued to move with the music.
“And what is that?” she asked coolly.
Ian leaned closer, his voice rough. “Ye’re mine now.” His hold tightened. “And I’ll nae have ye dancin’ with any man but me.”
Her eyes flashed. “That’s nae how marriage works,” she snapped. “I’m nae a thing ye own.” She pushed lightly against his chest, though she did not break away. “Ye cannae keep me from me own family.”
Ian exhaled sharply through his nose. “I ken that now,” he said, grudgingly. “And I ken I was wrong.” His gaze dropped to her mouth before lifting again. “But there’s truth in it all the same.” His voice lowered. “Ye are me wife, and what’s mine, I protect. Perhaps if ye had asked me permission first if ye could dance with yer brother, I could have avoided this.”
She scoffed, though her breath had gone a touch uneven. “Ask ye for permission? Protection? That doesnae mean chains,” she said. “Nor does it give ye the right to command me. Must yer eyes always be on me?”
