He seems wounded. Is it true or a lie?
“I thought ye knew me better than that,” he said quietly.
The words struck harder than any shouted accusation. Arianna felt the painful pull of doubt twist again in her chest. For one fragile moment, she almost spoke the truth about her fears. Almost.
But the memory of the council chamber returned like cold water. The sealed agreement. The whisper that the truth must remain hidden. She could not risk trusting him again. Not yet.
“I ken what I heard,” she said firmly.
Ian studied her face for a long moment before shaking his head. “And ye’d rather cling to suspicion than listen to the man standin' before ye.”
Arianna lifted her chin stubbornly. “I would rather protect me family.”
The words landed like a challenge. Ian’s expression hardened once more.
“Then I suppose there is nothin' left to say tonight.”
He stepped away from the table, giving her space at last. Arianna forced her hands to remain steady, though her heart still pounded violently in her chest. If he had arrived only moments earlier, he might have seen her searching far more carefully through those maps.
The thought made her stomach tighten. Ian paused near the door and glanced back at her.
“If ye truly seek somethin' to read,” he said coolly, “I’m certain the shelves hold better choices than dusty maps.”
Without waiting for her reply, he opened the door and stepped into the corridor. The library fell silent once again. Arianna stood motionless for several long seconds before releasing the breath she had been holding. Slowly, she turned back toward the table and stared down at the scattered parchments.
Me secret remains safe, for now. But the danger of being found out has never felt so close… and so hurtful. I wished I could believe him, but I am too scared to risk such a thing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The next day, Ian paced the length of his chamber like a restless wolf. Arianna’s cold eyes in the library haunted him more than he cared to admit. He had half convinced himself she might come to him once tempers cooled.
A sharp knock sounded at the door. Ian turned immediately, his pulse quickening with sudden hope. He crossed the room in three long strides and pulled the door open. The hope faded just as quickly when he saw Flynn standing there.
Flynn held a bottle of whisky in one hand and two metal goblets in the other.
He lifted one brow with a knowing smirk. “I thought ye could use a drink.”
Ian exhaled slowly. “Aye,” he muttered. “I could.”
Flynn stepped inside without waiting for further invitation and shut the door behind him. He placed the goblets on the small table near the fire and uncorked the bottle. The sharp scent of whisky quickly filled the room as he poured two generous measures.
Ian leaned against the edge of the table as Flynn handed him a goblet.
“To stubborn wives,” Flynn said dryly.
Ian gave a humorless snort. “If that’s the toast, we’ll need the whole bottle.”
They drank in silence for a moment.
Flynn studied him over the rim of his goblet. “So,” he said. “How bad is it?”
Ian stared into the fire for a long moment before answering.
“Before I say anything,” he said slowly, “what I’m about to tell ye doesnae leave this room.”
Flynn lowered the goblet and met his gaze squarely. “Laird, me oath of loyalty to ye is in all things.”
Ian nodded once. “That includes silence.”
