The Draig's Woman (4 page)

“Fine weather? It’s freezing out here.” Cold and exhausted, Claire couldn’t hide her yawn.

“True, spring has been slow in coming again this year. Here,” Ian said, laying his plaid on the hard ground and placing the blanket next to it, near the fire. “Sleep, we need some rest. The morrow will hold a long day of travel.”

Claire raised her eyebrow in question.

He might be engaged, but seriously? I really haven’t thought about the practical aspects of traveling, here, like this, with him. It is dark, cold, we only have a small fire, and I have nothing, absolutely nothing.

“Claire, I see your face. Be at peace. You made it clear you dinna offer, and I will nay take. There is but one blanket, and ‘tis yours this night. I sleep by your side as an offer of protection, no more. We are both exhausted. I missed a night’s rest, as have you. I will sleep with my back to you.” With that said, Ian lay down on the ground, wrapping the plaid around him, sword at his side, and faced away from the fire.

The fire held no answers. That much she had figured out. She didn’t want to feel the isolation that crept over her. Lost wasn’t big enough to describe it. There was nothing to explain what she felt. Alone was part of it. Hopeless had not yet entered the equation, and for that, she was grateful. Stealing a quick glance at Ian’s back, she realized that he was the only person she knew here and now.

Ian seemed to be okay, better than okay. Their conversation tonight had made her comfortable. While they talked, nothing else had seemed to matter. Claire had hung on his every word and expression. She wondered briefly if the situation made him so fascinating or if her hormones had finally woken from their long slumber. Shaking away the thought quickly, she knew this was definitely not the right time or place for these ideas.

Placing a few more branches on the fire before she moved, Claire finally found her way to the blanket, praying that the exhaustion she felt would win. She hoped the morning would find her back in her own bed or maybe even the parking lot, complete with a concussion and all. Somehow she knew neither would happen. Curling into a ball under the rough blanket, Claire refused to let hopelessness take hold.

Letting Claire have her time for thought before the fire, Ian attempted to quiet his mind. Before he saw Claire in her doorway, Ian had assumed death was a possible end to his day. Lying on the hard ground, his life had never been more precious. To say he was in awe of the woman who had saved him was an understatement. Her skills in battle were like none he had ever seen. The sharpness of her mind left him wondering. She was unlike any woman he had ever met. He had been far too pleased to learn there was no man who claimed her heart. The feel of her against him while they rode brought images that should be left alone. He had a blood debt to honor; all other thoughts needed to be ignored.

Ian waited, as Claire sat staring at the flames, not sure what type of comfort to offer. Even with the questions and their conversation, he had seen uncertainty written all over her lovely features. Waiting for what seemed like hours, she finally rose. Turning away onto his side, Ian gave the woman the only privacy he could.

Fighting sleep, Ian waited for the sound of tears. Any lass would be expected to cry at such a time, separated from her home. He cringed as he heard a light sniffle or two. Then there was nothing except the soft sounds of her sleep-filled breathing. Again the lass surprised him. Pleased with her show of strength, Ian felt his body fall toward slumber.

Ian startled at the whimper Claire uttered in her sleep. He rolled closer and curled his body around hers, gently touching her shoulder, trying to give comfort without waking her. She sighed softly and quieted. At the sound of her sigh, Ian shifted closer. Telling himself he offered only security, he wrapped his body around her. Ian was surprised by how grateful he was to feel Claire relax in his hold. It only took a moment to convince his mind that she would sleep better this way, surrounded by his strength. As warmth from the embrace seeped into him, Ian felt sleep arrive. Claire’s head tucked under his chin, and Ian knew no more.

Chapter 3

I love this dream. The feel of him behind me, holding me, and strong hands moving to caress me, it is pure ecstasy. Stretching my neck deeper into the pillow, his warm mouth finally finds me. His soft kisses and soft groans of delight whisper into my ear, and heat builds as his hands roam my body freely, moving up my stomach to gently cover my breast. Want like I have never known fills my being. I’m wearing way too many clothes in this dream.

His gentle hands push away my sweater. My lungs fill with air to push my flesh fully into his hands, all the while I’m whimpering as sparks course through my body. When his thumb finds my hardened peak, even through my tank top, a soft cry escapes my lips. His touch circles, demands that I feel him, as if my body has always waited for his touch. I push back into his front, asking for more and needing everything his touches promises. I know this dream. Now he speaks the one phrase that erases my inhibitions . . .

“
Ahhh, lass, you smell of sweet summer berries.” Ian groaned into her ear.

That is not what my dream man says. He also doesn’t have whiskers.
Claire’s eyes opened with a start, seeing grass, rocks, and a rough blanket. Before she could react, Ian’s hand switched to the other breast, causing her to make a noise she did not believe she was capable of making.

I need to stop this. Wait, why do I need to stop this? His hands feel so good, so warm. He smells like heaven.

Claire whimpered in disappointment as his hands moved down to her stomach and fingertips danced in small circles as they found the top of her pants. His hand searched for and quickly found the skin her clothing hid. Moving slowly, painfully slowly, his warm fingers dipped into her waistband.

That’s why this stops.
“Ian, move your hand now.” She did her best to suppress the whimper while she said it.

Circling his fingers once again over her stomach while moving his lips and tongue over her neck, he asked, “Like this, lass?” Ian’s voice was barely a husky whisper.

Forcing the words to come, Claire spoke with a hitch in her voice. “Remove your hand, now, Ian.” Surprisingly, he did. She rolled away and rose to her feet on shaky legs.

Why would I react to him like that? I never respond like that in real life, not ever.
It took all of her concentration to straighten her clothing and calm her breathing.
How dare he violate my favorite dream? Isn’t he engaged or something? It wasn’t enough to be stuck here. Oh no, not enough. Well, I’m not going to put up with this.
Pivoting to face Ian and with a voice that was not as steady as she would have liked, she demanded, “What in the hell were you doing? I was asleep and you, you . . .”

“Forgive me, lass. ‘Twas cold, and I was merely looking for a warm place for my hands,” Ian said with an inviting smile on his face.

Well, there’s a good morning slap in the face.
She glared at the man as she spoke. “Warm your hands? Warm your hands! What in the hell is wrong with you? Warm your hands?” She searched for the right words and felt certain when she found them. Staring at his ridiculous grin, she said, “This is how you treat me? I saved your life twice. I am probably stuck here forever, and you treat me like a, like a . . . a hand warmer?” Then she added with vehemence, “And I did not offer you anything.”

Ian’s face fell. She had hit him right in his pride. Speaking quickly, he said, “I am not a man to take advantage of a sleeping woman. Claire, I meant no insult, truly. We were both sleeping. ‘Twas an accident, and it will nay happen again.” Ian shifted to stand while groaning uncomfortably.

“Serves you right,” Claire mumbled as she stormed into the trees. Some of her anger faded as she heard Ian’s soft laughter at her comment.

Pushing through the foliage, the horrible apology raced through her mind.
“‘Twas merely an accident. I was sleeping too,” he had said. “My hands were cold, and you were warm. It meant nothing that I touched you like that, that you enjoyed me touching you like that. Meant nothing at all. You were just warm, not an attractive and desirable woman, nope, just warm. It won’t happen again. I would never touch you like that if I were conscious.”

She groaned as she realized she had to go back and face him.
I’ve got two choices: embarrassment or abandonment. Both options suck.

At that moment, Claire decided two very important things: first, she hated peeing the woods, and second, she hated the voice in her head even more.

She found Ian waiting by the horse. There was little trace that they had even been there. No trace of what had almost happened. The black bag was waiting in his hands. “Come, Claire. We should set out. We can stop to break our fast when we find fresh water.” Ian handed her the hairband he had removed earlier. Claire quickly put her hair up without meeting his gaze.

At least we aren’t going to talk about it.
Accepting his help to mount, she then took her bag. Ian surprised her by placing the blanket around her like a giant shawl.
“Thank you.” Shocked by the gesture, it was all she could think of to say.
So much for holding onto my righteous anger. Anger would have been easier. Apologetic, nice behavior is not easy.

“The air still has the morning chill. This will keep you warm.” He moved to settle in behind her. Ian held her as he had the day before, around the waist. As he leaned in for one last smell of her hair, he said, “You do smell like sweet summer berries.” Without any hesitation, he placed a kiss to the side of her head.

“Let’s just go, Ian.” She hoped he had not seen the smile on her face. The grin she felt against her hair dashed the notion of not being caught.

Claire was surprised at how quickly the morning had passed, given the way the day had started. She worked hard to ignore the body wrapped around hers as they rode on the horse. Ian held her a bit too close as they traveled, and she was dismayed that her body enjoyed the contact. Her mind decided that focusing on Ian was probably easier than focusing on when and where the previous day had left her stuck.

They stopped mid-morning to eat and refill the water bottle. Traveling at a slower pace, they talked, awkwardly at first, but then Claire had asked him to describe his lands and home. Ian spoke with such passion and pride. He told her about the people she would meet and their stories and lives, the farmlands waiting to be planted, the village nestled below the keep and the families who lived there, all who depended on him. The keep had been rebuilt in stone, completed by his great-grandfather. This was a luxury as most were still made of wood. When Ian spoke of warm baths and large fireplaces, she looked forward to the end of this journey. Claire could tell there was more, something he wasn’t telling her. It didn’t seem to matter. What she heard most was the sense of pride, his feeling of responsibility, and the desire to be there. When Ian spoke of all these things, she was surprised to realize she wished to see it, too.

Ian knew their conversation was safer than the acknowledgment of how fine Claire felt in his arms. He almost believed he held her tightly to keep her from falling off the horse and not because his body craved hers. Ian forced away the memory of how fine she had felt in his arms at dawn. He was still dismayed at what he had done; she had made no offer, yet he had attempted to take her. There was no apology that would make that better. Claire had saved his life, and his debt would be paid.

She was so eager to listen to what he said. In truth, Ian could not remember passing so many words with one woman. As they journeyed, Ian pointed out the landmarks and how he found their path. He spoke of home, and she listened and questioned the details of everyday life.

Claire spoke of her mother with grand tales that made him laugh. The tales of Brooke were even better. Ian did not understand all of her words, but gathered their meaning. She was educated in a manner he could not believe. So many years with tutors and still seeking more knowledge, that was a trait he admired. She was a woman willing to work for what she wanted. In a very different situation, he knew she would be a fine lass to bring home.

“Hopefully the rain will pass soon,” Ian said, hoping to cheer her. It was past midday, and the sky had grown dark. Wind, rain, and thunder were the only sounds they heard. Stopping for a quick break, Claire made her way into the trees.

As she joined him again by the horse, she heard a sound in the distance, and he identified it. “Horses, many of them, and riding fast.” Ian knew they couldn’t outrun them, not with both of them on his tired beast. “Quickly, lass, into the woods.”

Running for the cover of the trees, they waited and watched eleven men ride past them. If one had bothered to look to the right, they would have been seen, as the leaves were not yet fully open. Fortune hid them.

After the men had passed, Claire asked, “Was that them? Did you recognize anyone?” She was shaking.

“I believe ‘twas the same group, but ‘tis hard to ken for certain. We need to change our course. I dinna wish to ride into their backs.” Ian could see her discomfort and felt his own, her shaking due not only to the cold rain, but also to the fear of pursuit. Making camp would be risky and difficult given the weather. Placing Claire back on the horse and wrapping them both in the blanket, with what little protection it offered, they took a different path.

The storm continued and worsened, gusts knocking down branches, water falling in buckets, cold rain mixed with cold wind. The dark of night had arrived early. Ian could only focus on what he hoped was the trail. Claire was too quiet. They had not spoken for a while. He could feel her shake with cold and heard the sound of her teeth chattering, not hidden despite her valiant effort. Ian was not much better himself. They needed shelter and quickly. A cave would have been perfect. They had passed many this morning, and with the rocky terrain behind them, Ian was losing hope for more.

Perched on a hill, they saw the lights of a small village in the distance. With little choice, they headed into the valley. Ian had hopes for an inn. His purse had been taken from him during his capture, but there were a few coins in his saddlebag. He prayed they would be enough to cover their costs for the night.

Once again fortune smiled on him as he saw the beaten sign of the tavern. Tying the horse out front, they stepped to the door. “Claire, I need you to not speak and to keep your clothing covered from sight with the blanket. I will obtain what we need; a dry chamber and a hot meal.” Hoping for an empty room, they entered.

Claire blinked in the light. It wasn’t bright, but after what seemed like of hours riding in the dark, it hurt her eyes a little. Shivering and wrapped in a wet blanket with her bag in hand, she took in her surroundings. The wooden building shook in the gusty winds. The massive fireplace against the far wall sputtered a bit from the storm.
A fire!
She
started walking toward it only to be pulled back to Ian’s side. “Dinna leave my side, nay here, nay now.” Those words were a command and not a request.

Pulling the blanket closer, she realized it was very quiet. The men here were all staring at them, as were the few women. Claire took it in, observing.
I’ve been in some dive bars, but this is so past that.
This was just different. The men, filthy in rough looking pants and shirts, and the women in long, low-cut dresses were just as bad.
They must be like waitresses showing a bit of cleavage for tips.
This place is almost as bad as the clientele.
The wood floor appeared as if it had never been swept, and the tables with benches were chunky at best. A curtain moved in the back and changed her focus.

An older man approached them. He looked as beaten down as the rest of them. He spoke to Ian. “Well, now, what do you want?” His voice was gruff as he took in the sight of them.

“A room and a meal for myself and my wife.” Ian held Claire firmly by the waist. The hard look of his face ensured she did not question the lie. “Are you the man I should be dealing with?”

“I am Thomas. ‘Tis my inn. And aye, there is one left,” he said, pointing up the stairs. “End of the hall, left side. How long will you be wanting it?”

“I need the room for the whole night. Is that something you can give me?” Ian asked while giving Claire a hard glance, which said not to ask the question.

“It will cost you, but I can manage. Quiet night with the storms, and I dinna expect to see many more men tonight,” Thomas answered.

Claire noticed they seemed to be haggling over cost and what would be provided. Apparently nothing came with the room; sheets and blankets were all part of the bargaining. She smiled, despite being freezing in wet clothes; Ian had asked for wine, refusing the ale.
Finally, someone paid attention.

Ian shifted his grip to dig in his bags, frowning at the few coins in his hand, and he took in their surroundings. His eyes were not pleased with what they saw. She knew they were too exposed and out in the open. The men in this place were not to be trusted for a second.

“Thomas, would you take something in trade? My coin is lighter than expected.” The men simply stared at one another.

After a little hesitation, Thomas said, “Aye, that would do, provided it could be sold.” Claire recognized the challenge. The man wanted something of greater value than his services provided. On a night such as this, his room had greater value, and he knew it.

Ian dug in his bag, searching for anything. She touched his arm and placed her bracelet in his hands. Ian initially tried to push it back at her. She gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand. It was all the permission he needed.

Handing it to Thomas, Ian said, “I expect a bit of coin in return for this.” The man stared at his good fortune and handed Ian a few coins.

From the frown Ian gave, she knew it was not nearly enough change. Claire whispered to Ian, “Just take it. It’s fine. We need to be here and out of the weather. Right now I would trade just about anything to be warm.” Offering a reassuring smile was difficult. Even indoors, her teeth still chattered.

With water dripping from his hair, Ian looked her in the eye. “I need to see to the horse, and I want you to . . .”

Finishing the thought, Claire said, “I’m going with you.” They walked back out into the foul weather.

The room was easy to find. The stairs came up the middle of the second floor, and a torch hanging off the wall lit their way. A corridor led to the right and theirs to the left. The door at the end was open. Walking in, they found Thomas had lit a small fire and was placing linens on the bed. He said, “The meal and drink will be here shortly.” Then he was gone.