by Eno, Laura
Deanna gaped at the empty space where he'd been a moment ago, trying to catch her breath and stem the desire racing through her blood. He was right, of course. She felt like the lowest tease on earth. Closing her eyes, she sank into a chair, regretting the hurt she'd just inflicted on an honorable man.
The box swam in her vision when her eyes opened again, its promise of home nestled inside. Her lips tingled with Ian's passion—not forced, but freely given because she'd wanted it.
The old saying was true—be careful what you wish for. The realization hurt. She stood at a crossroad—forever changed no matter which way she went.
Tears spilled down her cheeks as Deanna rose and walked over to the box. The brooch glittered up at her, its jewels waiting for her touch to complete the journey she'd chosen.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ian walked down the stairs and out through the front door, in no mood to pass by those who might question him. What could he say? She left. It was her choice. Best to forget about her.
He entered the stables, inhaling the scent of fresh hay. Old Sealgair, his favorite deerhound, offered his grizzled head for a scratch and Ian obliged him. The dog's wiry coat felt rough in Ian's hand, a strong counterpoint to Deanna's soft skin. Not strong enough though…
With a whistle to bring his horse out of his stall, Ian leapt on his back and left the bailey to ride into the village. He didn't want to be anywhere near the keep today. Let his mother erase all evidence of the lass first. He wished he'd never laid eyes on the vixen.
The Cailleach's words rushed back to him, despite his efforts to block the venom she dripped into his veins.
"You come here to seek the safety of your clan? Behold, you are its seed of destruction, young whelp. The woman was to be your salvation. She is fìor ghaol—your true love and soul mate. Your clan will soon turn to dust; the winter that never returns to spring. As I am, so shall you be."
Ian rode harder, the images of his castle in broken ruins keeping pace with the flying hooves of his horse. The Cailleach was wrong. His clan would continue.
Is there no room for the laird's happiness? a small voice whispered in his ear. Apparently not. He'd just sent his soul mate away without a fight to keep her close. Now she would belong to another with no way for him to win her back.
His fist crashed onto his thigh with such impact his horse danced sideways in confusion. Regret blossomed in his chest, lodged in his heart like an arrow that can't be withdrawn. What had he been thinking? He'd let pride dictate his actions, belittled her statements, forced her to leave by withholding his sympathy until it was too late.
The tavern was blessedly empty when he walked in and ordered the first of many whiskys. Ian gave perfunctory nods to greetings throughout the day but people left him alone in his misery.
***
Night had draped the keep in deep shadow when Ian stumbled through the door. Only the glow from a banked fire kept him from toppling over furniture. He sank into a chair, imagining Deanna standing by the embers with her hands stretched out to warm them, as he'd seen her do many times before.
Ian lowered his head into his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. "Dinna haunt me, I beg of you."
When he raised his head up a moment later, her phantom had vanished, leaving him truly alone. He could still smell the scent of her skin, like flowers in a meadow. Inhaling the sweet perfume, he closed his eyes and prayed he wouldn't dream of her.
***
"Did you sleep here all night?" Munro's booming bass fractured the silence and started the beating of drums in Ian's head. He cracked one eye open and willed the man's presence away. It didn't work. "You dinna look so well, laddie. A nice dip in the river seems in order."
"Leave. Me. Be." His own voice sounded like the keening of a Bean Sidhe to his ears.
"Nay. My men are here to best your warriors, or did you forget?" Munro grabbed his arm and hauled him out of the chair.
"Was that today?" He had forgotten. Nothing seemed important right now.
Munro led him toward the back door. Ian winced as the clanging of pots from the kitchen assaulted his ears and he walked faster, trying to escape the noise.
More clanging awaited him in the bailey as swords beat against each other in practice. His men called out greetings to their laird in exuberant voices filled with excitement for today's challenge. Ian hobbled down to the river as a blind man seeking the light.
"Here, drink this." Munro shoved a cup into Ian's hand. He held his breath and swallowed the contents, grateful to Munro for his foresight in mixing the vile concoction. If anything could dim the throb in his head, this would do it.
"Thank you," Ian gasped and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "You're a good man."
"Aye and dinna I ken it." He walloped Ian on the back so hard he would have stumbled if Munro hadn't steadied him.
Ian tumbled the last few feet to the bank of the river and shucked his clothes. The icy water slapped him hard as soon as he jumped in but his vision cleared and the drums in his head began to recede to a dull throb.
"Feeling better?" Munro called out to him, a grin trying to split his face in two.
"Some." Ian crawled up the bank and wrapped his plaid around his waist, carrying his shirt and boots in his hand. "What are you so happy about?"
"Well, I wasna going to say anything till you were in your right mind again but our lassie is still with us!"
Time stopped for Ian as he thought about Munro's words. He couldn't mean Deanna though, and discarded that hope. It wasn't possible. "Who are you talking about?"
Munro peered into his eyes and shook his head, the grin still plastered on his face. "You're usually no so dense after a bout of drinking. Did the Fae muddle your brain?"
"Who!" Ian winced as the reminder of his drinking slammed his head again. "I dinna ken what you're saying," he continued in a quieter voice.
"Our Deanna, you addlepated fool. Who else would I be grinning about?"
"Deanna? Here? She's no gone?" Ian stuttered his way through the words before he took off running toward the keep. "Why didna you tell me sooner?"
Ian thought he heard Munro laugh and say, "Because I wanted to witness this part" but he couldn't be sure as Munro was already far behind him now. He raced through the door, heedless of the young kitchen girl who scrambled backwards out of his path, and took the stairs two at a time to the third floor.
He stopped dead in front of her bedchamber, suddenly unsure of what to say. She could be furious that the brooch had no magic and she didn't get back home, not sharing any of his elation to have her here. Deanna would be within her rights to hate him at this moment but he would change that.
"She's no in there." His mother walked up to him with a smile. "She's waiting for you in your study."
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ian charged through the doorway of his study, all thoughts of behavior appropriate to the Laird of the castle vanquished from his mind at the moment. He had to see the lass with his own eyes to believe what the others had said.
Her blue eyes could have been chips of ice as she gazed at him, sitting stiffly in a chair. She looked beyond angry, as if her continued presence here was his fault. Ian swallowed the retort poised on his tongue. He'd wronged her enough without adding a churlish comment.
"Didna the brooch work—although I'm glad to see you well, lass." With such a standoffish demeanor on her part, he couldn't very well tell her how he really felt.
"Why? Are you disappointed that I'm still here?" Her eyes bore into him, dissecting his brain into tiny pieces.
"No, I was only wondering if it didna work…or if you decided to stay?" How did she manage to make him feel like an untried lad?
"You can put the brooch away…for now. I didn't touch it. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot before but I believe I'm here for a reason and I'd like to figure out why. Perhaps we can start over."
She hadn't smiled or relaxed at all and Ian wasn't sure why she spoke of her feet being wrong but
he was all for starting anew.
"I'd like that, Deanna." He dipped his head in acknowledgement, hiding the hope that he knew blazed in his eyes.
"Good." She stood and seemed to relax a bit, although she edged by him as if afraid to touch him.
Ian understood. He'd give her time. The heat-lightning that passed between them when they touched couldn't be put back in the box as easily as the brooch. The last time they'd kissed, it'd been almost impossible to break away from her. He didn't think he could do it again.
Deanna hurried out the door and Ian grabbed the box with the brooch in it, stuffing it back in the cupboard. He dropped the key to the lock in his sporran for safekeeping before Deanna changed her mind.
***
Deanna returned to her room before daring to breathe normally. The struggle to glare at Ian instead of launching herself into his arms had exhausted her. Now every muscle in her body twitched from the strain.
It was worth it, though. He had to accept the fact that she wouldn't be toyed with and tossed to the side when he got what he wanted. The household staff had whispered tales of his exploits ever since she'd arrived. Deanna wouldn't share him with other women. Ian had to earn her respect before she'd give herself to him…no matter how much restraint that took.
And it was going to take a lot. Deanna didn't know where she'd find the strength. Just looking at him did funny things to her emotions. She wanted to drop to her knees and slide her tongue all over his body, tie him to the bedposts and have her way with him…maybe have him tie her to the bedposts instead.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the erotic images that kept cropping up. How was she ever going to keep her hands off of him with thoughts like those?
Picking up the heavy wood vase from the table, Deanna rolled it in her hands and studied the carvings. Like Ian, it had many layers to it. Who would have thought a warrior could have such a sensitive touch?
Last night she'd waited for Ian to come back, meaning to talk to him then. When he'd stumbled into the room, clearly drunk, he'd acted like she was a figment of his imagination. Deanna sensed his remorse and left quickly, able to fall asleep with the knowledge that he missed her.
Sitting up here in her room wasn't going to help her learn anything about Ian. She decided to go downstairs and have a talk with Isobel.
"There's our bonnie wee lass." Munro's voice boomed over the general chatter in the dining room. Deanna thought breakfast would already be over with. The stocky man jumped up from the bench with Ian a split second behind him.
She watched Ian frown as Munro bowed and tucked her hand inside his elbow, leading her to a spot next to him at the table. It wouldn't do to giggle and ruin the effect so she fought to keep a straight face. Ian sat down on the other side of her, flashing a smile that lit up his eyes and sent her heart dancing. Deanna felt like a bug on display, sandwiched in between such large men, as everyone else stared at the three of them.
"I ken you're feeling a might poorly, Ian," Munro said as he gave her a wink. "But shouldna you be out there training with your men?"
Deanna listened to Ian mutter something but it was in Gaelic. Munro guffawed and stuffed a bannock in his mouth. She decided to ignore them both and kept her eyes on her bowl of porridge as she ate.
"Will you take a walk with me, lass?" Ian gazed at her with eyes that would mesmerize her if she wasn't careful. When she hesitated, he leaned over and whispered in her ear. "I willna do anything you no desire."
Her heart rate jumped as his lips touched her earlobe. What a loaded statement! She desired it all—from a soft caress to heart-pounding sex and everything in between.
Deanna moved away as far as she could, actually using Munro as a backrest, and stared at Ian. He knew the effect he had on her; she could read his thoughts as plain as day. He had that cat-ate-the-canary look about him. She couldn't allow herself to be alone with him. Her willpower was already zilch.
"Okay." He looked as shocked as she felt when that came out of her mouth. She'd meant to say no.
He recovered first, standing up and holding out his arm in a chivalrous gesture. She ignored it and stumbled her way over the bench without his help, relying on Munro's shoulder for balance. No way could she afford to touch that infuriating Scot with the body of a god.
They walked through the door and out into the bailey, Ian placing his hand at the small of her back to guide her to the left. Deanna shuddered at the seemingly innocent contact and bit back a moan. She glanced over in time to see him adjusting his sporran. So he felt it too, that instant shot of desire that threatened to consume them both.
His hand fell away and Deanna mourned the absence of his touch even as she breathed a sigh of relief. What was wrong with her that she couldn't make up her mind?
They walked past the training ground where Tomas led the other men in practice. Deanna blushed as each man stopped and sent up a cheer. It was obvious how much they admired their Laird and wished him happiness.
"They are good men," Ian said quietly, as if reading her thoughts.
They continued in silence, heading toward a copse of trees—a small forest, really. Standing amongst the towering pine, Deanna felt like she'd stepped into a different place in history. The castle had disappeared and even the curtain wall couldn't be seen from this location.
She turned to say as much to Ian but found his lips mere inches from hers as she faced him. All coherent thought fled as he gathered her in the warmth of his arms and drew her closer.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sizzling heat coursed through her body as Ian's lips connected with hers. Deanna didn't even try to back away. She wanted him too much. Delicious warmth pooled between her legs, causing her muscles to ache with desire. Thoughts of Ian straddling her hips cascaded through her head as Deanna welcomed his tongue passing between her lips.
He moaned as she drew her fingers through his hair, clasping handfuls to draw him closer. His stiff shaft pressed against her body as he ground a timeless rhythm of passion with his hips. Deanna forgot all of her good intentions to take it slow as this man quickly drove her wild.
He broke off the kiss with a suddenness that left her knees weak and Deanna grabbed his shoulders to keep from falling. His lips rested on her forehead for a moment, then he took a step back and looked her in the eye.
"Forgive me, that's no why I brought you out here." His moist lips still beckoned to Deanna and she ducked her head, taking in a deep breath to quash the sounds of panting rushing from her lungs.
"I don't think you can take all the blame for it," she admitted. She looked up to see him give her a crooked smile, lust shining in his eyes like twin beacons that said, "Go ahead and jump me. I dare you." The air stuck in her throat for a minute until she could push it down into her chest.
She scrambled for something innocuous to say, glancing everywhere but at him. "So why did you bring me here?"
He backed up another step and took her hand. Deanna gritted her teeth against the sensual jolt even that innocent contact brought to her. "When I was a bairn, this was my favorite place to come. My da would bring me out here and we'd sleep under the stars. It was a magical time for me—full of good memories. I wanted to share it with you."
The pain in his voice startled her. Deanna glanced over at him but he was looking off into the trees. "How did your father die?" She may as well ask the hard questions. It was the only way to get to know him better.
Ian slid down against a tree and patted the ground next to him in invitation. Deanna joined him and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, still gazing off into the distance.
"When I was thirteen, my da went off to hunt deer. I was supposed to go with him, like I usually did, but he made me stay behind that day to train with the guards. He took Old Jeb instead, and only one of the hounds."
When he stopped, Deanna took his other hand in hers and gently squeezed it. He sighed and continued the story.
"When they didna come back the next day, I led a par
ty to look for them. We found the hound first with an arrow through its heart. A few paces more revealed Old Jeb and my da, both with their throats slit. A dead Cameron lay next to them. Their horses, sporrans, and my father's brooch were all missing."
Deanna leaned against his chest, feeling the rage and sorrow of the boy that Ian had been. No wonder he didn't like her name.
"We found two more Cameron the next day, trying to sell what was ours to Munro's clan. That's how I first met William." A tiny smile graced Ian's lips when she glanced up at him but his face still held a fierce expression.
"So we strung them up from a tree and headed back home. I wanted to go on to Achadh nan Seileach but my mother advised against it, seeing as how I was the new laird at a young age. I didna argue with her in her grief but I have often wondered if it was the right choice. They havena caused many problems since then, though."
He fell silent again but Deanna felt an absence of tension in his muscles. She watched two squirrels chase each other up and down a tree and let her mind wander.
The brutality of this time shocked her and yet it had its own civility to it. It wasn't random violence, like drive-by shootings and bombs that killed thousands of people who only wanted to live their lives in peace. She backed away from those thoughts before she opened up old wounds.
"Are you ready to go watch the contest?" Ian stood and pulled her up against him, running his hand through strands of her hair before planting a kiss on top of her head. Deanna felt the heat simmering just under the surface but Ian had his desires under control—probably better than she did.
"Do you know of the old Gods?" Ian asked in a complete change of subject as they walked back into the clearing.