The Draig's Woman (14 page)

Chapter 13

The evening meal was the first quiet one Claire had since arriving. The men had not returned, and the hall felt their absence. Unfortunately, those who did remain made themselves known. She smiled as Aliana did her best to include her in conversation, knowing full well the intent. The several men at the table were nice, polite, good-looking, and even funny, but they were not Ian. The first sincere grin to cross her face was when Cerwyn started getting crabby. Grateful to leave with Aliana and the child, the upstairs seemed a welcome retreat.

Both were relieved when Cerwyn actually fell asleep. They sat in Aliana’s chamber before the fire where once more Claire had the burden of explaining the finances. Finishing her cup of wine, she waited for Aliana to respond.

“Well, then it is done. My brother will have to go through with the marriage. I had such hopes for him, hopes that he would someday find the same things I have with Hagan.” Aliana’s dismay was more than evident in her tone.

Claire thought to ask the question that had been in the forefront of her mind but dared not to ask Ian. “What happens if the taxes are not paid?”

For the first time, there was hesitation before Aliana spoke. She answered in a hushed voice, “I dinna ken how long the Crown will tolerate late payments. Eventually forces will come to claim the lands and a new laird will be set in place.”

Claire felt her jaw drop. “I knew it was serious, but not to that extent.” Wanting to know what happened to the family and the people if such a thing should occur but somehow knowing it would be tragic, she let the question slip away.

“‘Tis sad the fate that awaits Ian. No one should marry like this. I ken it is the way of some, but not here among our people.” Aliana’s disgust was more than evident.

Hoping for a diversion from the morose, Claire asked, “So it was not like that for you and Hagan, not arranged at all?”

“You dinna mean to say this tale has not been told to you. Nay, there was nothing planned about us even meeting. Hagan came here with his eldest brother. While my marriage would not be arranged, introductions were common and all too regular. Surely you must ken the heir to the Douglas clan was out seeking a wife several years ago.”

Suddenly caught in the lie of her existence, Claire answered quickly, “I knew that, but not about you and Hagan.”

“How foolish of me. You would only ken Hagan did not return home and that he had wed. I am aware your clan does not speak freely in front of its women. So Hagan came with his eldest brother as he sought a wife. I never even noticed the elder, I only saw Hagan. You may not believe this, but at the moment we met, it was done. I wanted only him. Do you believe this, Claire?”

Trying not to think about her own reaction to Ian, Claire sincerely answered, “I believe you. As strange as it sounds, I believe you.”

“There was a small problem, however, as Hagan did everything in his power to stay away from me. During the day, he trained with the men, rode, and hunted with Ian, and at night, he sat as far from me at the meal as possible. Yet even then I wanted him. This is not to say he ignored me, just the opposite. Hagan was constantly watching me.”

“Why didn’t he talk to you?”

“There were times when no choice was given. At those moments, he was kind, considerate, and polite, but his eyes were different. He looked at me like I wanted him to, like he saw only me.” Pausing for a drink, Aliana remarked, “You may be aware your cousin is a stubborn man. Hagan was raised to believe that as the youngest son of seven he would wed a woman of much lower rank, that the only daughter of a laird was far beyond reach.”

“What changed his mind?” Claire asked, wondering what could change Hagan, a man always set in his course of action.

“Well, the eldest son left, and Hagan stayed. It was said that Ian convinced him to stay. They were quick friends, and my parents found his company was a good influence on Ian. Even then Hagan encouraged my brother to learn the duties to which he would someday be responsible. To this day, I still believe Hagan stayed for me. Too bad that stubborn arse will never admit it.”

Joining the laughter, Claire asked, “So when did it change?”

“It took most of that summer to discover that he was put off by my rank, though no one here made much of it. Hagan has a way of seeing things, of seeing the potential in a situation. Hagan’s fear was that without Ian wed and having an heir this duty would fall to me. It would not be the first time lands had passed through the children of the lady of the clan. The responsibility weighed on him. He was never trained for such things and did not want to be. A simple life was all he craved.”

This description did not mesh with the man Claire had come to know. Hagan seemed so sure of every decision he made. “Obviously, you got past that. How did you do it?”

With a grin, Aliana continued, “After I discovered this, every meal I sat by his side and made him speak with me. I tried everything, even altering my gowns to show my figure in an attempt at letting lust rule him. Dinna look so surprised, cousin, those gowns now flatter your curves. Anyway, even that did nothing, so I went for something more simple. I made sure Hagan was deep in his cups.”

“You got him drunk?”

“It was obvious there was something between us. Our conversations were always polite, but his eyes never were. Later that summer, every chance he had, Hagan touched me, small touches that no one would ever think wrong or inappropriate. I was tired of waiting, and once my mind is set, I act. I made sure he had a bit too much to drink, filling his cup myself throughout the evening. When Hagan finally found his way to his chamber, I followed. Giving him time to get into bed, I stole into his chamber. After losing my gown, I crawled into bed with him. For only a moment did he hesitate, then he did not.” There was no stopping the smile taking over Aliana’s face “‘Twas a fine night, Claire.”

“How did this solve anything? I mean, he was drunk. Did he know it was you?”

Aliana’s face showed the victory she felt. “Aye, he kenned full well it was me. My name was on his lips the moment I climbed into his bed. In the morning, we were found together. That part was a wee bit embarrassing but worth every awkward moment. Our vows were said in the hall that morn. I dinna believe there has ever been regret for either of us. Hagan does a fine job helping with the men and the duties here. ‘Tis a skill he always had inside. Plus, we are happy. There is love and a solid companionship between us. Someday I wish the same for you.”

Claire was envious. “Wow, that is some story. I’m glad that you told me, or I don’t think I would have believed it.”

With a chuckle mixed with a yawn, Aliana said, “Dinna let anyone tell you otherwise. Every word is true.” Stopping to yawn again, Aliana apologetically asked, “Would you mind if we said good night? When I tire, it happens quickly.”

Claire stood. “Of course, go to sleep. I already asked Margaret in the nursery to wake me and not you if Cerwyn needs someone.”

“Cousin, you spoil me with your kindness. I am so glad you are here and that we are already such friends.” Aliana embraced her.

“So am I.” Letting go of the embrace last, Claire said, “Sleep, I will see you in the morning.” 

The ride had been what he needed. Time on his horse and the wind in his face had cleared his mind. Part of his fate was set. There was no arguing and no going back. There was going to be more in his life, and Ian had always known this. He had been raised to want more, and more he would have. There was always a way. This was a way he had never thought to take. The path he now contemplated he had mocked in others. Mayhap he had been too quick to judge and too quick to assume it was wrong. Ian had found a way, and now he just needed to convince her.

Claire slept, curled in a chair before the fire in the nursery, with wee Cerwyn tucked against her, one of the child’s hands resting on her shoulder and his other buried in her hair. She had been roused from sleep to be here. Dressed in her robe, her legs were bare from shifting in the chair. His hand reached out to touch her skin, only to stop. He still bore the dirt from his ride. The last time he touched her he had been dirty from the saddle. There was no way he would see Claire’s clear skin soiled by his hand again. His offer would wait. Rising with the intent to seek the bathing chamber, he knew his offer would be there for the new day to come. Looking at her face, so calm and peaceful in sleep, any and all doubt fled. There was a way.

Chapter 14

Claire’s sleep had been haunted by dreams, again. Dancing with him, so slowly, their bodies close and moving as one. Ian had charmed her mother and David over dinner. He had laughed as Brooke asked if he wore anything under that plaid. Michael had been there, too, asking what she had forgotten. The thought had not left her mind even though it was early afternoon.

What did I forget
?

She tried to lose herself in the work of the day. The messenger had arrived in the morning with word that the bride would be there the next day. The keep was in complete chaos. Neala was ordering everyone around—what to clean and how to clean it. Her normal good temperament was absent with the chores to be done. Aliana was having a bad day, her morning sickness keeping her in bed. Claire was grateful for the extra work, having been given a group of women to keep on task and deciding which stores to be used in the kitchens for the meals the larger group would need. She was grateful for the inventories at hand, and working with Finella proved perfect for her mood. There were no stories and no idle talk, just business.

The sun had long set before all was accomplished. Now, sitting outside by the cliffs listening to the waves crash on the rocks below, while the moon rose overhead, Claire had no choice but to let her mind wander. Unfortunately, no thought was safe, and none were pleasant. Thankful for the pitcher of whiskey that kept her company, Claire took another drink and wondered how long before the alcohol dulled everything.

Ian had spent the day far too busy. In truth, he was glad to oversee the work. For the first time, it mattered to him that the men had completed planting the crops and that his people were content.
What could have been more important than all of this?
Now, it concerned him that all was in place. He needed to be sure that the future held promise for her, that all of Claire’s needs would be met.

All day his eyes had hoped to catch her, to find time to speak his words. Not once had their paths crossed. Claire was not by his side at the evening meal, and her presence was keenly missed. In the dark of night, he found her sitting outside alone as the breeze blew her hair. He loved her hair unbound. This was the perfect place to speak with no one else to interfere. Ian could feel his body stride with purpose. Hope was alive in his chest, and with words waiting to be spoken, he approached.

Reaching her side, it was obvious something was amiss. Claire was sitting with her knees pulled up against her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. Only once had he seen her like this, on that first night together before the campfire. Then she had been lost and scared. Ian felt his heart tighten with fear.
Why is she like this now?
Moving to sit next to her, the lack of movement was making him wonder if she was not merely asleep.

Raising the cup again for a drink, Claire asked, “What are you doing out here, Ian?” Her eyes closed as the cup was drained.

With a small laugh, Ian replied, “I believe that was the question I was going to ask you.”

Her gaze locked on the waves in the distance. Claire answered with a confused voice. “I was just . . . sitting . . . trying to clear my head. Then it happened. Now I’m not quite sure what to do?” She extended her palm in explanation.

It took several moments for Ian to realize what she held out. “Is that what you use to bind your hair?”

With a sigh, Claire answered, “It used to be. I was just sitting here, and I felt it snap. It broke. Now what? I’m not sure what to do now.” Raising her cup again and enjoying the last swallow, she reached forward for the pitcher resting between her feet and poured another cup. Claire held out the cup. “Would you like some?”

He took what she offered and knew what she was drinking. “This is a strong brew, lass. How much of this have you had?” Taking a sip, he then placed the cup between them.

Laughing at the comment, Claire retorted, “Not nearly enough.”

It was obvious that that had not been her first cup. Her words showed the influence of the strong drink. Even Claire’s laughter sounded strange. Still, she did not turn to face him. Ian asked the obvious question, “Was your hair tie so valuable that you mourn its loss?”

She held her hand out. “My cup, please. No. The rubber band was something I never thought much about. I have dozens of them. There are some in my bathroom, some in the junk draw of my kitchen. They’re in my desk drawer at work and even in my normal purse. I had changed bags that night we met. Normally, I would never have gone out with such a big bag. Anyway, my everyday purse had more hair bands. For heaven’s sake, there are probably a bunch in my car.” She paused in her rant to take another drink. “It used to drive Mom absolutely crazy, my leaving these things all over the house. She’d find them on the table or the kitchen counter and complain how disgusting it was, something that held hair being anywhere near food. Mom would get so mad over something so silly. But now . . . now . . .”

Ian suddenly realized why her voice seemed so strange. It was not the drink. Claire was crying. Without any hesitation, Ian reached for her, pulling her body up against him to rest in his lap, with her head on his shoulder as her arms circled his neck. He whispered small tokens of comfort as she sobbed against him and he smoothed the hair from her face and held her, waiting for her grief to pass.

When the sobbing finally slowed, Claire took deep breaths to calm down. In an unsteady voice, she said, “There was going to be a party. It was going to be a surprise, but of course Mom knew about it. Her birthday, and David wanted to do something special. I think it’s now or close to now. Somehow I’ve lost track of time.” She laughed into his shoulder. “Of all the things to lose track of, anyway I think the party was going to be soon.” She wiped her face with the sleeve of the dress. “And I ruined the dress Mom bought me. The one I was wearing when we met. She’d be so mad at me.”

So relieved that Claire’s crying had stopped and realizing the cause of her pain, Ian offered the only comfort he could. “I remember all that you have spoken of your mother.”

“She will never know, will she? My mom will never know what happened to me. Just poof and I’m gone.” Lifting her head to face Ian, Claire asked, “How do I live with that? How do I deal with knowing she will have such worry and heartache? I don’t know what to do.”

Ian’s heart could have wept for the pain he heard in her voice. Moving his hands to the sides of her face, his thumbs gently wiped the tears that remained. He was so aware of her hand on his shoulder and the one holding the side of his neck. The feel of her skin against his was what he had craved for days upon end. He whispered, “I am sorry that you have such pain in your heart this night, sweeting. Truly, if I could remove it from you, I would.” Her eyes closed, and he felt Claire try to shift away from him.

It was the “sweeting” that did it. It reached a place in her mind that still thought.

I can’t be here like this, curled up on him. This is only going to make it worse. So close to him and I can’t have this either.

She willed herself not to look at Ian, not to realize that his scent permeated her senses as she moved to get away. Forcing her body to shift in his hold, she said, “I’ve lost everything I know. The last few weeks I’ve done everything I can to not think about it. There is no way for me to go home.”

Holding on to Claire, Ian answered softly, “I can nay imagine your pain at what you have lost. But your home is here now with me. My life without you would have little meaning.” Reaching into her unbound hair, his fingers combed through what wind had tangled.

“I can’t be here like this with you.” She said the right words but was lost in his strong embrace. Claire relished the contact, the soothing motion of her hair being stroked. Ian’s warmth too easily filled the empty places in her aching heart.

Ian’s body held hers in place. His strong legs moved up to cradle her side against his thighs while one arm reached around as the other pulled her face closer to his. With his lips brushing against her temple, he tried to soothe. “I had come to find you this night, sweet Claire. There are words I wish to have with you.”

Claire was trapped against him. All the while, her mind whispered ways to physically push him away and release his grip on her. She could do it easily. She knew she should do it, push away and run. Run fast away from him. Not just sit there being wrapped with his body. Cursing the betrayal of her weak flesh and seeking another form of escape, she said, “I heard about the messenger. We should go inside. Tomorrow will be a busy day?” She wondered why her voice betrayed her now, too. That was supposed to be a statement and not a question.

His lips again found her, touching softly as they moved from her temple to the side of her mouth, leaving a wake of tingles over her flesh. Ian’s tone was so calm, so warm. “These are not the matters I wish to speak of this night. They are things that need not concern us.” He brushed soft kisses against the corner of her mouth as if waiting for her to seek his kiss.

The feel of his lips against the corner of hers sent a shudder down the length of her body. The warmth of his neck permeated her traitorous hand that enjoyed its perch. Her head was spinning with too much drink, too much loss, and too much want combined with this contact. It was more than she could control. Claire’s voice was weak and pleading, “Don’t Ian, please don’t.” Again, she lost her private battle as her mouth moved to his. She let her lips lightly brush his. “I can’t be with you, and we both know that.”

Their gazes locked as he said, “You are mine, Claire.” Then Ian’s mouth covered hers.

Any thought of running evaporated as Ian’s lips descended, his hand gripping her hair to place her where he wanted. In a single heartbeat, all thoughts vanished, replaced instantly by need. She savored the kiss so long denied. The first touch of his tongue against her lips stole a gasp from her throat, giving him full access to her mouth. As her tongue battled his, both sought the other, and neither was able to get close enough. Her hands pulled at his hair, and finding it tied back, freed it to bury her hands in it, to bring him against her. There was only gratitude as she found her back against the ground and Ian’s weight covering her.

Ian’s hands roamed her sides, arms, and face as their kiss deepened. Claire gripped his hair while her other skimmed across his back, trying to bring him closer still, the groan heard from Ian fueled the urge to seek more. Pinned beneath his weight, her legs were trapped in the long gown. Sensing her frustration and knowing what they needed, his body shifted to allow her movement as his hand pushed her gown to her knees.

Not willing to break their kiss, Ian’s mouth captured Claire’s lips as his teeth grazed hers, relishing her seeking to return his passion. He shifted quickly to recover her body once more, his hips between her open legs, moving against her until she cried out with frustration. The layers of their clothing were the only things preventing their joining, and his hands sought to change that.

Claire’s body was out of control, with her mind lost in the heat of it all. She only knew that she wanted and needed Ian. The feel of his hardness against her while moving between her thighs caused her to cry out in an unrelenting demand, still not close enough. She shuddered at the cool air on her skin as the gown was loosened. The heat of warm strong hands made the cravings even stronger, leaving Claire to wonder how she had ignored this want for so long.

Gasping for air as Ian’s lips found her neck, the warmth of a hand on her breast released a strangled cry. She opened her eyes to see Ian poised over her chest, his tongue tasting her hardened peak, then seeing no more while drowning in the pleasure. Hands and mouth worked in unison to build a craze within her, creating a burning need for more. Writhing beneath the skillful assault, she gripped his hair and was not sure if she thought or actually pleaded with Ian to never stop.

She tried to wrap her legs around him. As if understanding her silent plea, his lips began to move back up her chest, to tease the nape of her neck and join once again with hers. He pulled his body roughly against her as her hands tried desperately to lift the shirt that hid the warmth of his skin.

Claire arched into Ian as his hips moved against hers. She shifted beneath his weight in an attempt to bring him closer. A gasp left her lips when she felt his hardness against her center. They were so close, yet so far apart with the layers of clothing between them.

She could feel it. Ian slowed the demand of their mouths as the mock thrusts virtually came to a halt. Not willing to let thought back in, Claire moved her hands from the heat of his back to Ian’s leather encased backside. Pulling his hips toward her, she forced the motion to resume. Encouraged by the growl emanating from his throat, she moved her mouth to taste the skin of his jaw, shifting his head to graze the lobe of his ear. Rewarded by renewal of movement, both of them gasped loudly as their hips moved in harmony.

Ian’s hands grasped hers and pulled them to the sides of her head against the ground. He panted. “Claire, there are matters of which we must speak.”

Not wanting him to break the moment, Claire moved her hips in a silent plea of want and desire. Ian’s harsh breathing encouraged the motion, but his hands did not release their grip.

Her head shook in denial as her mind started to process what they were doing. She opened her eyes to his burning gaze. “Please, Ian, don’t.”

She was left with an immediate hollow ache as Ian shifted away from the embrace, pulling his body up to finally rest on his haunches between her legs. He gasped for breath as his eyes wandered every inch of her exposed flesh, the gaze as potent as any touch.

Slowly moving his hungry gaze from her bare breasts to her eyes, the raw need in his voice shook her. “I want you, Claire. I want you like I have never wanted anyone else. But nay here and nay like this. I want you in our bed with furs against your skin, nay the rough ground. I want no layers between us. This night will be our beginning. Come with me now, sweeting.”

Why did he have to talk? It brought back everything I tried to leave behind. If he had just taken what I offered, what the evening of drinking had given me the liberty to do, then passion would have taken care of the rest.