“Nay,” he said dryly. “I appreciate a good fall.”
She shook her head, smiling. “I liked it when the knight learned to listen.”
Ian raised a brow. “Is that a lesson ye’d have me learn?”
“Mayhap,” she teased.
He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Careful, wife. I listen more than ye think.”
Her cheeks pinked slightly as she reached for her ale. “Then tell me what I’m thinkin’ now.”
He watched her closely. “Ye’re thinkin’ this has been a fine day.”
She nodded slowly. “Aye.”
“And ye’re glad ye came.”
“I am.”
“And,” he added quietly, “ye’re nae quite ready for it to end.”
Her gaze met his across the firelight. “Nay,” she admitted softly.
He felt that warm tightening in his chest again, stronger this time. Around them, the tavern noise swelled back to its usual rhythm, but their table seemed set apart, wrapped in its own circle of warmth. He reached across and brushed his thumb lightly over her wrist.
“Then it need nae end yet,” he said.
She swallowed, her eyes darkening slightly. “What do ye propose?”
He finished his ale in one slow swallow and set the tankard down. “First, we finish our meal.”
She smiled, a slow and knowing curve of her lips. “And after?”
He leaned closer, voice low and rough. “After I take ye home, the day and night will continue.”
Her breath caught faintly. “Ian…”
“Aye?” he prompted.
She hesitated, then smiled shyly. “I’m glad ye brought me here.”
He studied her face, searching for mockery and finding none. “I’m glad ye smiled,” he replied simply.
She reached for his hand then, squeezing it gently. “I smile more than ye think.”
He covered her hand fully with his. “Good,” he said. “Because I intend to give ye reason to smile again before this trip is through.”
Her eyes widened before she laughed softly, though heat flickered in her gaze. “Finish yer mutton then, husband.”
He smirked once more and obeyed, already anticipating the hours ahead.
Ian lifted his tankard again, the dark ale sliding warm and steady down his throat. He had already drunk more than he typically allowed himself, yet the day felt made for indulgence. The fire burned low and golden, and Arianna’s laughter lingered sweet in his ears. He signaled for another pour without hesitation.
Arianna arched a brow as he tipped the tankard back. “I’ve nae seen ye drink so much ale before,” she said lightly.
“That’s because I’m usually astride me horse or tendin’ to matters that require a clear head,” Ian replied. “But we’re ridin’ in a carriage tonight, and it’s a festive day. I’ll allow meself this indulgence.”
She smiled at that, and the sight pleased him more than the ale itself. “Then I shall indulge as well,” she declared, reaching for the pitcher. He watched her pour a modest amount into her cup.
