A flash of red caught Ian's eye. "Please excuse me for a moment. I won't be long." Kolyn had stopped to look at the poultry, picking out some chickens that looked fresh and plump. She added them to her basket.
"Good morning, Lynn." The last thing Kolyn had expected was to see Ian Blackstone. He had not struck her as a man who spent his time at the market. "Good morning, Lord Blackstone." He made no move to leave. He merely stood in her way. Kolyn tried to walk around him. "I have much to do, if you'll excuse me."
"May I walk with you?" "I . . ." She didn't know what to say. "Don't you have better things to do?"
She didn't mean to sound rude, and regretted that she had. Ian removed the basket from her hand, then took her elbow to guide her through the crowd of people. She stopped when they passed a cart.
"Molly needs some fresh vegetables." She pointed to them.
Carefully, Ian picked out the best the man had, holding up first one vegetable, then another for her approval before placing them in the basket he still held. Once she got over her amazement, she felt amusement. Never before had she seen such a thing a fierce warrior walking about with a basket on his arm, picking out produce in the market. It was hilarious.
"I like seeing you laugh, Lynn. But I get the impression you are laughing at me." "I am, sir."
Ian spread his hands out wide and smiled. "Please, call me Ian."
Dimples creased his cheeks, his resemblance to Andrew striking Kolyn. At first, a warm and tender emotion tickled her. Then, just as suddenly, a sick feeling descended, leaving her weak and shaken. These past years Kolyn had loved Andrew like her own son, at times even forgetting he wasn't. Ian Blackstone was Andrew's father. She would never let him take her son from her.
"Are you all right?"
He was speaking, and Kolyn tried to concentrate on his words, to take her thoughts from the cruel reality encroaching upon her mind. She failed. She must kill this man. She must do as Emmett said and keep Andrew safe. She must. "Are you all right?" Ian repeated, concerned by the sudden paleness of her skin.
"Leave me be," she whispered, grabbing her basket. He reached for her, and she stepped back. She was frightened of him and herself. "No." Ian watched Lynn turn and run from him. "Damn, what did I do?" She was always running away. This disappointed him, much more than he wanted to admit.
"Ian," his mother called out. She approached him and hooked her arm through his. "I would like some wine. Shall we stop at the inn before we return home?" "Yes." Ian smiled. "Let's share some wine."
Kolyn placed the basket she carried upon the kitchen table and sat. She grasped her hands, twisting them together to still the shaking. Confusion assaulted her. Why was she confused? It was simple. She must honor her promise to her father. Simple. No, it wasn't simple.
Molly poked her head into the kitchen. "Lynn, dear. Could you bring a tray of wine out?" "Yes, Molly. I'll be right out." Kolyn took a deep breath and calmed herself. She prepared a tray and entered the tavern. Ainsley watched the young woman bring the wine over, and knew she carefully masked her discomfort as she served them. She was truly a beautiful woman. She could understand her son's attraction.
"You have the most beautiful hair," Ainsley commented, drawing the sharp green eyes to her."Thank you, Lady . . ." She could not finish. "Lady Blackstone. This is my son, Ian." Kolyn curtsied and dared only a glance toward Ian. He was grinning. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Blackstone. I hope the wine is to your satisfaction."
"Yes, it is fine. And your name?" "'Tis Lynn." "Lynn, would you share a glass of wine with us?" "I . . ." Kolyn felt shocked, unable to respond with any intelligence. "I . . . I couldn't. I have work to do. Please excuse me, Lady Blackstone."
Kolyn fled back to the safety of the kitchen. He had a mother! He was a nice, likable man with a mother!
"God help me," she muttered, then began to laugh. I like the very man I'm supposed to kill. How ironic!
Ian sat upon his mount and watched the full moon's path as it climbed high into the night sky. Too many years of grief were embedded in his soul, and he could not shake the black mood that had descended on him. Even the pleasure of seeing Lynn could not overtake the cycle of emotion each full moon brought.
Intentionally, he headed into the dark forest. The night and the wolf would be his only companions. When the blackness turned pink by morning's light, then he would return to the inn for a bath and bed. Just as he had for too many years. That night Ian wasn't at the inn. Kolyn tried to pretend it didn't make a difference, that she was glad. But she lied to herself. All afternoon her mind had stayed on the man, giving her no respite from the torture it conjured. The harder she tried not to think of him, the more she did just that. She thought she might go mad.
She poured Geoffrey another pint, careful to avoid his eyes. ''He'll be back when the sun comes up."
Kolyn tried to look unconcerned. "Who will be back?" Geoffrey's lips pulled into a wide grin. He was obviously enjoying his game. "There's an evil moon tonight."
Kolyn felt her own eyes widen, and she wished she could control her reactions more skillfully, for Geoffrey seemed to watch her every move. "Ian will show up when the sun comes up. You might prepare his room and a bath for him, Lynn. He'll expect it."
"I'll see to it, sir." She wondered what Ian was really doing this night. Geoffrey took her hand when she turned to leave and stopped her. His smile never faltered and the twinkle in his eyes never dimmed. "Will you see to my friend's needs, Lynn? Will you take care of Ian?"
"I'll see to his room." She understood his meaning and pulled her hand away. "Nothing more." "Don't be so stubborn, lass." His voice teased her. "He's quite taken with you." "Why?"
Geoffrey looked surprised. "Have you never looked in a mirror? Can't you see your own beauty?" "There are a lot of beautiful women. Let him find another." "Bring Ian to life, lass. Let him know what it is to love and be loved in turn."
Tears stung Kolyn's eyes. She didn't want to hear this. "No, I cannot. Leave me alone." She backed away. "Please, leave me alone." Kolyn made it to her room before she started to sob. How could Geoffrey tease her about loving and being loved?
His words brought forth a yearning she had always denieda need she kept hidden, a need for a love she would never know. It rushed in on her with such insistence that she was left helpless to its destruction. Finally, she fell into an exhausted sleep, tears still upon her face. When she woke, her candle had sputtered out, leaving her in total darkness.
"I'll light a candle." "Leslie?" Kolyn's mind was muddled with sleep. "Aye, who else did you expect?" She struck a flint to the wick. "Maybe Lord Blackstone?" "No, of course not." "You cannot lie to me, Lynn. I'm not blind. He's had nothin' but eyes for you since you came. He'd take you as his lover if you'd just let him."
Leslie was trying to tease, but a hint of hurt underlined her words. Kolyn wanted this conversation to end. "I've got to go downstairs." "Yes, he'll be comin' in soon. He likes his water hot." Kolyn hesitated before descending the ladder. "What does he do on the nights of the full moon?"
Leslie considered her question a long time before answering. "He struggles with the demons inside him." A chill ran over Kolyn, and for the first time she wondered what demons Ian Blackstone might have. Did Blair's ghost haunt him? Perhaps her brothers, or father. Did he regret all the killing?
Without further comment, she went downstairs to start a fire and prepare Ian Blackstone's bathwater. One thought after another ran across her mind, tumbling into each other, creating chaos. She couldn't think. Nothing made sense.
One by one, she hauled the buckets up the stairs and to Ian's room, filling the large wooden tub that sat before the fire. She put one last kettle to boil over his fire just after the sun came up. She prepared to leave.
"Would you not stay and help me undress?"
Once again he had come upon her, entering his room so silently she had not known it. It unsettled her already strained nerves. "That and nothing more."
Quietly she assi
sted him, taking his sword and dagger. As she placed them upon the dressing table near the bed, her fingers lingered upon the hilt of the dirk. It was heavy and quite long. She returned to help him remove his leather tunic. She could smell the dampness of the earth and the stronger scent of his war-horse. Kolyn laid the tunic across the chair. She heard him splash into the tub and turned to him.
"Is there anything else, my lord?" "Wash my back, lass." "Must I?" she asked weakly, uncertain why she feared doing so. It was not an uncommon thing to assist a man in his bath. She had done so many times for her father's guests.
"Is it so much to ask, Lynn? I'll behave myself. You've my word on it."
Hesitant, she moved closer. She took the sponge he offered her and began to wash his back. When she was done, she handed the sponge back to him. It seemed warm in the room, too warm. "Rinse me." Whether it was a statement or a question, she didn't know. "That you can do yourself." Then she added begrudgingly, "My lord."
He only smiled at her. "Would you be so kind as to bring me a towel then." Ian stood and Kolyn quickly turned away. She grabbed a towel, then stopped. The dagger lay before her. Shaking fingers touched it, wrapping about the cold steel. "Have you forgotten my towel?"
She pulled her hand away. "Not at all," she whispered, shaken by his sudden closeness.
Kolyn could feel the wetness that clung to him soak into her dress, chilling her heated skin. A lightness invaded her head, and she thought she might embarrass herself by fainting.
Ian placed his hands upon her shoulders, then slid them down the full length of her arms, finally entwining his fingers in hers. She was truly on fire. "Lynn, stay with me." His voice was so hushed she almost wondered if it were her own thoughts conjuring the words. She wanted him to continue to hold her close. She wanted . . . to kill him.
Conflicting thoughts crashed into each other, startling her from her reverie. Shame washed through her like a flash flood, leaving her stripped of the warmth that claimed her. A cold hardness claimed control, and she pulled away from him. "Leave me be, Ian Blackstone."
Ian did not go after her. A deep ache touched his heart, one he thought he could never feel again. He shouldn't allow this woman to unnerve him. He knew the danger, yet he could not let this redheaded wench be. That he understood.
Chapter Nine
The goose was only a foot away, wagging his tail feathers angrily at her. Kolyn inched forward, careful not to move too fast. Just as she touched the tip of a feather, he moved off at a fast waddle, honking loudly, perhaps even laughing at her.
She pretended to ignore him, then lunged at his plump, white carcass. He still escaped in a flurry of feathers and down. Kolyn chased him about, hunched over, grasping at air time and time again. From the feathers that clung to her dress and hair, she thought he should already be plucked, saving her the effort later should she ever catch him. Still, he evaded her.
Frustrated and tired, Kolyn gave one lastjump, landing unceremoniously on her backside, the goose watching her with what she was certain was a gleam in his black eyes. She moaned and covered her eyes with her hands, not wanting to look at him anymore.
The goose pecked at her hands, then nibbled on a curl that hung loose about her face. Kolyn peeked between her fingers, afraid to move lest he run away. He continued his appraisal of her, and when she moved her hand down, he did not flee. Instead he honked and nibbled some more. She laid her hand upon his back, then grasped him firmly in her arms.
"I got you my fine, feathery friend."
He seemed not to care, intent on investigating the long length of hair that hung over her shoulders in a very loose braid. He quietly honked, a subtle, almost friendly sort of noise.
Suddenly, tears filled Kolyn's eyes, and she looked deeply into the animal's round beady eyes. He was cute, in a fowlish sort of way. He rubbed his head under her chin. The tears spilled over, and she knew she had lost.
She began to sob outright. Whether it was solely for the goose or for herself, Kolyn really didn't know. She just cried. She let the goose go, shooed him away.
The goose came back and nestled upon her as she sat on the ground. Ian remained quiet, leaning against the kitchen wall. Lynn's back was to him and he wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the right words. He had never known anyone so gentle of heart. Her attempt to catch the goose had been funny, yet sad. He knew Molly's plans for the goose. She had tempted her customers with the mouth-watering delight for months as she fattened it for the pot. Suddenly, he had no appetite for a goose dinner.
"Looks like you've made a friend."
Kolyn recognized Ian's voice, and could not bring herself to look up, her cheeks warming as she recalled the intimacy of the night before. She felt the fool, sitting in the chicken yard with a goose in her lap. "I don't think Molly will be so happy to learn that instead of killing and plucking her goose I've made friends with him."
"You've a kind heart."
She lifted her gaze and dared to look at him. He was sincere. This made her feel guilty. How was she supposed to kill this man when she couldn't even kill a silly goose? "Oh, God," she moaned and closed her eyes. Ian knelt beside her. "I'll see to it that Molly has a goose. Two, just to be sure."
She felt even guiltier and moaned again. "All right, no goose. I'll send a pig over." This made her laugh. She was worried about having to kill this man, and he was worried that she didn't want to eat a goose. "No." She finally looked at him. "I can't ask you to do that." "You didn't ask." Ian stood and offered a hand to help her up.
She accepted, but regretted it the instant his hand touched hers. He was warm, his touch gentle. She wanted to hate him and was finding that difficult. I will pay you for them." She reached down into the pocket of her dress and removed the coins she had received in tips.
A strange expression filtered across Ian's face, one she didn't know how to interpret. "I wouldn't dream of your paying, Lynn. I just don't want to see you cry again." This confused her even further. "I . . ." She didn't know what to say.
Ian picked a feather from her hair. Curious, he lifted a long curl and twisted it about his finger. It was as soft as he thought it would be. He wanted to see if it smelled of heather, as Lynn did, but he refrained. He could see that his first small gesture had stiffened her back and turned her face away. Pink tinted her cheeks. He longed to taste of the rosy lips she puckered in dismay.
"You are very beautiful, Lynn." "Thank you, my lord." "Could you call me Ian? I would prefer it."
She finally turned back to him, her eyes wide and troubled. He wondered at the sadness he read in them. "I think it best I do not," Kolyn whispered. Disappointed, Ian asked, ''And why do you think this?"
Kolyn wasn't prepared for such a question. "I . . . I don't expect to know you well enough, my lord."
"But" Ian grinned "I thought we might get to know each other better. Much better." "And why did you think this?"
"Because I am very attracted to you."
She nibbled her lower lip, not liking the direction of this conversation. "I have been told" Kolyn chose her words carefully "that there has been no woman in your life since your wife died." "That is true," Ian replied.
She watched him from beneath lowered lashes. "Why me, my lord?"
Ian's eyebrow raised as if he truly couldn't understand why she would not know his reasons. "Have you had no men desire you, Lynn?" "No," she answered quietly, honestly. The only men in her life had been her family, her son, and Father McCloud. No one had ever come to court her. Her father had been preoccupied with his anger and hate, and the fact that Kolyn might long for the love of a husband had been beyond his realm of feuds and challenges. She herself had thought little of it, grief claiming most of the past years. And she had Andrew. Kolyn had needed little else these past years.
"I find that hard to believe." Ian lifted her chin to gaze into her wonderful green eyes, so clear and sharp in color they left him breathless. "Women as lovely as you are women to die for."
Kolyn fe
lt her heart tighten painfully. Once again she thought of the irony of it all Ian could very well die for her love.
Ian leaned down, his lips brushing hers, ever so softly. Ever so sweetly. He stepped back and bowed low, exaggeratedly gallant. "I shall look forward to seeing you tomorrow night. Please give me the smallest hope you will save a dance for me?" Kolyn couldn't help but smile at his foolishness. "Perhaps, my lord, perhaps."
"Your smile is my reward," Ian muttered, then turned and left. A short time later she heard Molly's cackle as he strode through the kitchen and out of the tavern. Molly's large form filled the doorway.
"What's this, lass? Has Lord Blackstone gone mad? He's tradin' two hogs for that goose. Says I'm not t' cook it."
"Aye." Kolyn felt the culprit pecking at her feet, his soft honks melodious. "I couldn't kill the goose."
The village was filled with people, the harvest celebration a time all enjoyed. The night air was chilly, but everyone stayed warm with dance and laughter. A bonfire blazed in front of the tavern, and people milled in and out with tankards of ale and mugs of wine. Everyone brought food and ate their fill, Ian's two hogs turning into four. He had even taken Kolyn to Stonehaven to help him fill a wagon from his own storeroom for the event. She had worked since early that morning, and now felt weariness drag at her, but the jubilation around her was undeniable.
The Black Wolf Page 8