“I was. My dreams…I think they may be a sign of what’s to come.” She explained seeing her letter brutally stabbed to her cousin’s chest with a dagger. “I sent three missives, and you said Douglass only ever received one. That means there are two more out there, and I wouldn’t put it past my brother to have intercepted them. That means he knows where we are headed. He’s been unable to cut us off on our journey there, so he may plan on reaching there and killing everyone before we arrive.”
Ian walked toward her, reaching out, his heavy hand a comfort on her shoulder as if the weight of his touch would ground her somehow. At the same time, she was so tired, so overcome with emotion, that the feel of him, the reassurance in his gaze, punctured a hole in the dam holding back her tears. She wanted to collapse against him, to feel the comforting weight of being held by someone.
“Lass, I assure ye, no matter the size of your brother’s army, he’ll no’ get past Sinclair walls. My brother’s, now your cousin’s, castle is heavily fortified. Second, my brother’s men were trained by me, and though I havena met your brother or the man with whom he intended to settle his debts by way of ye, I can guarantee they are no match for the warriors I helped to train. There will be no slaughter. When we arrive, ye’ll be able to wrap your cousin in your arms.”
His words were spoken with such confidence. Not a waver, not a wobble, and he looked deep into her eyes. He believed all of the things he was saying, and oddly enough, she believed them too. Even still, that dam of tears was ready to flood, slipping down her cheeks in silent surrender.
She was so exhausted. This journey had been a lot harder than she thought it would be. And she’d tried to be strong. She was strong. But sometimes, even the strong had a moment of weakness when their emotions undid them.
Ian clucked his tongue and pulled her against him. She collapsed into his warm and solid embrace, her cheek to his chest where his heartbeat thudded in a steady rhythm. He stroked her back with an expert hand, his chin on her head as he murmured assurance. From the gentle way he handled her, and the way he so easily sought to soothe her, she knew he was a good brother. A good man.
“Thank you,” she murmured against the wet spot she’d left on his shirt. “I’m sorry for falling apart.”
“Never be sorry for letting your emotions out. We all need to do it now and then.” There was a weight behind his words that made her want to pry.
Rhiannon peeked up at him. “Have you cried?”
Ian chuckled. “I’m a man, men dinna cry.” His tone had an extra helping of bravado.
She pretended to give him a little punch, and he chuckled.
“I admit to having cried at least once, but I’ll never admit to the true number of times.” A cloud fell over his face then, the jovialness gone. But he quickly shook it off and grinned again, though it hardly reached his eyes as if his smile were trying to break free of the darkness.
Whatever haunted him, he wasn’t willing to let it come to the surface. And she respected his desire to keep it hidden, even if she was curious. “Once is enough,” she said and leaned her head back to look up at him more fully, a smile finally finding its way to her mouth. “I hope you never have cause to cry again.”
Ian smiled down at her, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. The heat of every other moment boiled down to this one embrace. His touch had been meant to comfort, and it was now shifting into what they’d been trying to avoid for days—desire.
She’d been irritated with herself last night for not kissing him. What was the use of letting him go this time?
Rhiannon clutched onto his shirt and lifted on tiptoe. Ian didn’t push her away; in fact, he seemed to be moving with the same urgent speed as her. Both needed to forget the overwhelming emotions that threatened to undo them.
Their mouths crushed together in a heated frenzy, all the pent-up desire and need and wanting bursting out of them in this one kiss. Lips on lips. His hands pressed her back, holding her close, and her fingers curled into his shirt. Their breaths were heavy, fanning over their cheeks. A swipe of his tongue, and then she deepened the kiss, wanting more and more. To come apart in his arms and forget her nightmares. Forget the dangers of the past few days. The betrayals of her brother.
All she wanted was Ian and this moment to last forever.
Holding Rhiannon in his arms seemed the most natural thing in the world. The softness of her body pressed to his, the warmth of her touch, the smell of her hair. When she’d come out looking as if she’d lived through a night of war, he’d been concerned. When she’d told him of her nightmares, her fear for her cousin who was more like a sister to her, Ian had felt that in his bones.
He and his brothers had been through hell together—especially when Ian had been taken, held hostage years ago in a dungeon of a neighboring clan. He knew exactly what an emotional war felt like, and he wanted to take all of her fear and pain and toss it deep into the flames of a bonfire, where it would disintegrate to ash. Holding her, hugging her, comforting her had not even been a thought. It had been a reaction.
And as he held her, he couldn’t help but think that this right here was everything right in the world. When she’d looked up at him with the same heated stare he’d been trying to avoid for days, he knew he was toast.
She’d leaned up, and he hadn’t even hesitated in slanting down. In brushing his lips over hers. Within half a second, it became clear she knew how to kiss and wanted this kiss as much as he did. The both of them were fully intoxicated by the desire they’d held at bay, which had now been unleashed into a torrent of roving lips and clutching fingers.
Ian held her close, pressed one palm to her lower back and the other to the back of her hand where she clutched his chest, his fingers threading through. He wanted to hold her there forever. To taste the sweetness of her mouth for the rest of time.
Holding her, kissing her, letting himself go in this moment of frenzied passion was the last thing he’d thought he wanted. The last thing he’d thought he needed. For the better part of a decade, he’d believed that surrendering to a heat like this, to his desire for a woman, would only hold him back. Yet as he crushed her to him, claiming her mouth in one heated swipe of his tongue after another, Ian couldn’t help but flashback through every moment they’d had together that led up to this point.
And he didn’t find one moment she’d held him back. If anything, she was his equal. A dagger-throwing hellion who didn’t run at the first sign of danger but was prepared, willing, and able to save his arse.
With Rhiannon, he’d experienced adventure. She dove headfirst into it as he did. Was it possible that…maybe a woman like her wouldn’t hold him back?
She whimpered against his mouth, and the blood running through his veins sizzled right down to his groin, where his cock hardened.
His brother was happy with Douglass. More than happy. Besotted. And it hadn’t seemed to lessen the toughness of him. If anything Noah fought fiercer now.
Because Noah had more to fight for than himself and principle. He had love.
Ian groaned, with desire and maybe a little fear. Because though he wasn’t ready to admit, deep down, a part of him was starting to fall for Rhiannon. To imagine a life where the two of them could be together. A life of adventure and passion.
