Ian watched her draw a slow breath, the tension in her shoulders easing ever so slightly. The sight made a strange, unfamiliar heat stir deep within him. She was there, vulnerable yet defiant, and he could feel the subtle shift, her pulse quickening, her wariness softening just enough to let him in. A flicker of something dangerous and thrilling ran through him as he realized she was beginning, ever so cautiously, to trust him, even if her heart remained guarded.
Ian finally took a step back, the corner of his mouth twitching with a fleeting, almost imperceptible smirk.
“Now,” he said, gesturing to the stables, “we’ll get settled, and I’ll ensure ye have time to breathe. But know this, lass, ye may think me a beast, and in many ways ye’d be right, yet I will never be cruel to ye. Nae as long as I draw breath.”
“I suppose… I can accept that… for now,” she said, her voice steady though her fingers fidgeted with the folds of her dress. Ian’s eye softened ever so slightly, and for the first time that day, he allowed himself a brief moment of pride. He would guard her, he would respect her, but the desire simmering beneath the surface was a fire he would not easily quell.
Ian’s lips curved into a smirk as he watched her tense posture slowly ease.
“Next time,” he said, voice low and teasing, “I’ll have a few items placed in front of ye, so if ye wish to act on yer impulses and throw somethin’ at the councilmen, ye may do so without worry.” His words were clearly a jest, but he saw the way her shoulders relaxed and the corners of her mouth twitched in reluctant amusement. The sight made something stir deep in him, a mix of pride, possessiveness, and desire he hadn’t expected to feel so sharply.
He stepped a little closer, watching her flush as the air between them thickened.
“Aye,” he continued, “I may nae have chosen ye, lass, but ye’re mine now, and I’ll nae let ye go.”
He saw the color rise in her cheeks, the quickening of her breath. Her defiance, her fire, it all made him ache with a need he could barely keep in check.
Ian’s hand brushed against the railing near her, a deliberate, restrained gesture, just enough to remind her of his presence, of his control, and yet of the careful restraint he was exercising. He could see her pulse in her neck, the tiniest tremor of her hands, and it made him want to close the distance between them.
“Ye neednae worry,” he murmured, voice low, almost a growl, “I’ll keep ye safe, even from those who think they command us.”
His eyes lingered on her, dark with unspoken intent, and he knew she could feel it, the promise, the threat, and the magnetic pull of him that no warning could repel.
Arianna looked away for a heartbeat, trying to gather her composure, and he smirked again. There it was, the mixture of fear, fascination, and flush that made him want to test the boundaries of both her patience and his own restraint.
I willnae take her without consent, yet every inch of me burns to see her surrender.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Ye’re starin’ again,” Arianna muttered.
He gave a low huff of amusement. “Am I?” he asked, voice rough as gravel.
Arianna stood beside Ian in the stable. Her gaze moved over the hard planes of his face, softening the scars that had once frightened her. She hated that she noticed how broad his shoulders were beneath his plaid. Worse still, she hated how her body warmed at the sight of him.
“Aye, ye are,” she said, lifting her chin though her heart thudded. “It’s nae polite.”
He stepped closer, boots crunching against the dirt, and her breath caught. “Polite’s the last thing on me mind when I look at ye,” he replied softly.
Her stomach fluttered treacherously, and she despised the weakness. She had meant to stay angry, to guard herself like a fortress. Yet standing there near him she felt thin and brittle. Attraction, however, felt solid and undeniable.
“I ken ye are mad about what happened in the council. But I want ye to kent that if I’d seen ye afore the contract was found,” he said, voice steady but low, “I’d have wanted ye still.”
The words settled heavily between them. Arianna blinked, startled by their sincerity.
“Is that so?” she asked before she could stop herself. Doubt edged the single word. She searched his face for mockery and found none. He stepped even closer, close enough that she could feel the heat of him through her gown.
“Ye daenae ken what ye do to me,” he murmured. “I cannae get the image of ye in that bath out of me mind.”
The admission made her cheeks burn hot as flame. Her fingers tightened in the folds of her skirt.
“Ian,” she whispered, scandalized and breathless at once. He lifted a hand as though to touch her cheek, then let it hover in the air. For a heartbeat, she thought he would kiss her. Instead, he stepped back abruptly.
“Come,” he said gruffly, gesturing toward the stacked wood near the stable wall. “If ye’re still angry about the council, ye can take it out on that.”
She stared at the pile, confused. “I daenae ken how to chop wood,” she admitted.
He arched a brow. “Then I’ll show ye.” The simple promise sent another ripple of warmth through her. She followed him, uncertain whether the greater danger lay in the axe or the man.
