Arianna lifted her chin and replied, “I was told nae to keep ye waitin’.”
There was something cautious in her eyes, and it pricked him more than he expected. He inclined his head, accepting the rebuke he had not earned but did not protest.
“We’ll be ridin’ to the next village,” Ian said, turning slightly toward the road. “It’s near an hour’s ride, but they’ve the finest seamstress for three glens.”
Arianna glanced toward the horses and murmured, “All this trouble for a law that makes nae sense.” Her lips curved faintly, though her tone was dry.
Ian gave a short, crooked smirk. “On that, we agree,” he said. “I’ve tried twice to repeal it, and twice the council told me to keep me hands off tradition.” He snorted under his breath and added, “So we’ll both just have to deal with it.”
Arianna’s eyes widened a fraction, then she laughed despite herself.
“I never thought ye’d say such a thing,” she said.
Ian shrugged one shoulder and replied, “Marriage does strange things to a man.” The words lingered between them, heavier than he intended. He cleared his throat and gestured toward the mare.
“Will ye ride?” he asked. Arianna nodded and stepped closer, and Ian reached for her without thinking. His hands closed around her hips to steady her, firm and sure, and the warmth of her startled him. He inhaled, catching the scent of soap and crushed flowers, and nearly cursed aloud.
For a heartbeat too long, he held her there. Her body was light beneath his hands, yet the awareness of her weight sent a pulse through him he had not felt in years. Ian told himself to loosen his grip, to behave, to remember his word. With visible effort, he lifted her into the saddle and stepped back at once.
Arianna settled herself, fingers tightening on the reins. “Thank ye,” she said quietly, and her voice seemed closer than before.
Ian answered with a stiff nod, refusing to look at the curve of her mouth. He swung onto his own horse with more force than necessary.
They rode out through the gates together, the castle falling behind them stone by stone. The road stretched wide and green, bordered by heather and low stone walls. For a time, only the sound of hooves filled the space between them. Ian welcomed the silence, though it did little to calm him.
At last Arianna spoke. “Are all the villages so far?” she asked.
Ian shook his head and said, “Nay, there’s one closer, but I’ll nae have ye dressed by anyone less than the best.” He glanced at her sideways and added, “They’ll measure ye proper, nae rush the work.”
Arianna’s shoulders eased slightly at that.
“I suppose that’s some comfort,” she said. “Still, it feels foolish to buy what I may never need.”
Ian frowned and replied, “Ye’ll need it.” There was more certainty in his voice than he meant to give.
They passed a stream, sunlight flashing on the water. Arianna watched it a moment and said, “I daenae ken this land yet.”
Ian answered, “Ye will.” The promise slipped out before he considered it.
Her gaze flicked to him, curious but guarded. “Do ye truly believe that?” she asked.
Ian met her eyes this time and said, “Aye.” He did not explain further, trusting the word to stand on its own.
As they rode, he became acutely aware of every small movement she made. The sway of her body matched the mare’s stride, graceful and unselfconscious. He told himself to look ahead, to think of council matters and crops and stone walls in need of repair. None of it held.
Arianna broke the silence again. “Do they stare? The villagers?” she asked.
Ian smiled faintly and said, “They always do.” He added, gentler, “But they’ll be kind, if ye are.”
She nodded, absorbing that. The village roofs came into view in the far distance, smoke rising lazily into the sky. Ian felt a strange feeling, knowing the ride would soon end. He reined his horse in slightly, matching her pace. Duty, he reminded himself, was easier to bear when shared.
As they approached the bridge toward the village, he said, “Stay close to me.”
Arianna answered, “I will.” The simple exchange settled something between them, fragile but real. Ian straightened in his saddle, prepared to face the world with her at his side.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ian found his gaze drifting to Arianna more often than he intended, noting the calm line of her mouth and the way the wind teased loose strands of her hair. She did not sigh or complain, nor did she fill the quiet with needless chatter. Her stillness pleased him more than he cared to admit.
