Ian retrieved her dagger, cleaning it on the man’s shirt before handing it back to her.
“No’ a Sassenach, but I suspect they paid him off. Saw him sneaking around the back of the tavern.” Ian entered the room, his hands on his hips, sweat on his face. “Are ye all right?”
“Aye. Perhaps I should ask you since I have saved you once again.” This she said rather saucily, partly because it was true that she had now assisted him twice and partly because she was still a little embarrassed about what had happened last night.
The air between them had crackled. And the warmth of his solid hand on hers as he’d tied on the brace had done strange things to her. Made her want to melt into him. Thoughts of kissing had invaded her mind, and then she’d found herself leaning toward him. Wanting to see what it would feel like to be kissed by a man like him. To be swept up in that moment.
But Ian had backed away, putting a sizable distance between them, and spoken as if she were a stranger. So formal that it had rankled. And certainly squashed any desire for a kiss. She’d wanted to lash out, to shove him out of her rented chamber, because that would have been easier than facing his rejection. Alas, she’d managed to be as stoic as she could. Which, she believed, gave her the higher ground. And at least it made her not cringe.
But she wasn’t going to hold back now. Oh, nay, she was ready and willing to give him hell if he deserved it.
Ian studied her, eyelids squinting as if trying to understand everything about her in one glance. A feat which she would never allow him to succeed at. His gaze roved up and down her nearly nude body in the moonlight. Her chemise was damp from the sweat of her dreams and then the sweat of her fear, clinging to her hips, her belly, and her breasts. The thin muslin stuck to her back and rear, which he fortunately could not see. However, there was a part of her that wanted him to see how the fabric molded to her heated skin. To witness what he was missing when he’d rejected her.
Heat blazed her cheeks at the wanton thoughts. Goodness, but why was she thinking like that? She was a lady. Though, when had she ever been proper?
Rhiannon wanted to kiss him still, despite his clear message the night before that he didn’t have any interest. Then why was he looking at her like that now, his gaze lingering on the places that made her a woman? Perhaps it was because he, too, wanted to kiss her but had denied himself the pleasure given their circumstances.
The silence between them sizzled. She wasn’t certain how long she could take it and if she could even move to break the spell—other than to close the distance between them, to press her body to his and end this torment.
Ian took a step closer. Then another, stopping again. There was still half a room between them. The air crackled with heat. All it would take was a few steps from them each to reach the other. Toe to toe. Knee to knee. Belly to belly. Face to face. And then lips to lips.
Rhiannon couldn’t take her eyes off his face, watching the conflicting thoughts moving over his features. A wrinkled brow, heavily lidded eyes that roved, a mouth pressed together in firm determination, and jaw muscles flexed with indecision.
And at last, she was satisfied. He’d rejected her, but he wanted her. As much as she wanted him. Especially now, with the blood of fear and fighting rushing through her veins. There was a need for more excitement and release, and with how he looked at her, she knew instinctually what thrill both of them craved.
They felt desire. Potent and heavy.
Rhiannon wasn’t experienced in the ways of the flesh, but she did know desire. She’d kissed a man before, not one her uncle had approved of. And it had been nearly eight years ago. She’d been seventeen. They’d had a festival, and as they danced around a raging bonfire, the son of a neighboring lord had taken her hand. They’d frolicked and flirted, and she’d had one too many cups of fruity mead. But not enough to make her mind fuzzy. Not enough to excuse having said yes when the young lord led her behind one of the tents and kissed her senseless. Not enough to deny his touch on her breasts, between her legs. And not enough to have not recognized his arousal as he pressed it against her hip.
They’d been about to fall to the ground and make a mistake when her uncle came upon them, fuming mad.
At first, she’d been mortified, and then she’d been grateful. Desire made her head go hazy, her morals evaporating with a single kiss. Made her say yes when she needed to say no.
Like right now. Every inch of her body hummed. A primal urge pushed her forward. Made her fingers itch to touch him and be touched. To let his mouth crash on hers and devour her whole.
But her uncle’s voice in her head forced her feet to remain where they were. Danger lurked, and in one breathless moment, with their guard down, they could become easy targets. A dead man was outside the door, and lord knew how many more were downstairs. She couldn’t rip off her chemise and beg Ian to make love to her. Though the idea was appealing.
Booted footsteps pounded on the stairs, breaking the spell between them both. She lifted her dagger, prepared to defend them again, and Ian drew his sword.
“Ian?” Thank goodness Gavin’s voice broke through the thickness that was their fighting response. They lowered their weapons, his footsteps pausing outside the door. “Och, I see ye already had all the fun.” The larger man stuck his head in the door and then quickly withdrew. “Pardon, my lady, I didna realize ye were indisposed.”
Rhiannon groaned. “Oh, no, I am so sorry. There was no time to dress as that man put his boot through my door.”
“I trust Ian is acting with chivalry?” That was the voice of Sarah, who must have come up behind her husband. “And by ‘that man’ ye mean this one out here.”
“Aye, the still one. And, indeed, Ian is always decorous.” Rhiannon grabbed the blanket on her bed and wrapped it around herself. “I am covered.”
Gavin and Sarah came in then, both of them looking worried and scanning the room as if more vagabonds might be hiding in the shadows.
“There will be more coming.” Gavin’s voice was steady, his gaze holding a hint of warning. “Word is they’re offering quite a bounty on your head. Those who know ye willna dare to give ye up, but there are plenty who are hungry and dinna care.”
“Understood.” Ian reached into his sporran and tossed them a leather pouch. “For your troubles.”
“We’d do it for free.” Gavin caught the bag of coins and gave Ian a nod. “But it will help in the cleaning up.”
“Until next time.” Ian clamped his hand on the big man’s shoulder, and they nodded in mutual respect.
“Might I get dressed before we leave?” Rhiannon stared down at the blanket wrapped around herself, feeling suddenly vulnerable. It would be quite difficult to run like this and not expose herself to strangers. “Is there time?”
