by Mistletoe
She had loved him on sight, and it was then that she felt the first true terror of her life.
Ariana closed her eyes as she walked. She
His whole being had seemed focused on her as he took her hand and held it. His skin had been warm, vibrant with the power of life. She recalled the embarrassment of suddenly feeling he saw into her heart as she peered up at him, spellbound. He had spoken, excited because he had found her— or so she had believed at the time. He asked her about her origins, had told her of his own. He had truly seemed to care.
And when he walked her to her new cottage, he'd kissed her cheek.
Ariana's boot lodged in the snow. She tried to pull free, but it held her captive, so she just stood for a moment, lost as Taran continued on oblivious into the night.
Somehow, they had become enemies. She was never sure why, except that she had become terrified after that first meeting. He had been so bold, and that had made her unnaturally shy around him— and that had increased the tension between them. He had told her she was special, and beautiful, and that he wanted to know her. He had held her hand and she had felt truly safe for the first time in her life.
They became enemies because she had been afraid.
Ariana pulled herself free of the boot and continued on, not caring about the pain of the ice burning at her foot. She limped forward. She had lost sight of the welcoming light, but it no longer mattered. She couldn't see Taran anymore, but perhaps that was for the best…
She no longer felt cold, and that was some comfort as night deepened around her. Her limbs felt light and warm, and a strange contentment settled inside her. I am free; this is all over.
As she sank down to her knees, then into the warm, enveloping snowdrift, she had one last fearful thought. She had never truly lived at all.
"Ariana! Wake up, don't do this." She heard his voice in her dreams. Though he yanked her from a pleasant sleep, she couldn't help harking to it.
Annoyed that he was so insistent, still… that he cared at all gave her joy. She felt him pick her up, but she remained groggy. Maybe it was best she didn't answer, lest he put her down again and be angry that she had been sleeping when they had so much work to do, so many toys to make.
She felt his hand on her cheek. The palm felt hot. She opened one eye and saw him leaning over her. He appeared frightened. Well, she could understand that. She battled terror every time he walked by her studio.
"You feel hot, Taran. Are you fevered?"
He groaned, then tore off his heavy cape and wrapped it about her. He didn't seem capable of answering.
"You mustn't take that off. You'll catch a death of cold. We still have many toys to make, you know. And yours are so beautiful. I know they're violent, but still beautiful. Like you…"
Every word she spoke seemed to increase his fear. He pulled out a leather canteen and held it to her lips. A bitter liquid met her tongue and she grimaced.
"Drink it, Ariana."
She shook her head. "It's awful."
"It's grog, and yes, it's awful. Drink it anyway."
She squinted to better see his face. "Are you trying to poison me?"
He looked hurt, deeply, but it didn't seem such a farfetched question. "I'm trying to help you. Please drink."
"I know I've been difficult at times, Taran, but I think you would feel a certain element of remorse if you killed me." She paused, her brow scrunching as she considered. "At least, I assume you would." She paused again. "I have been very difficult, I know."
She closed her eyes, wishing her fears had perhaps not been quite so strong, wishing she hadn't pushed him away with quite so much force. Maybe he would have pursued her, and not become her enemy.
A warm, soft touch pressed against her forehead. She peeked up. He had kissed her, gently. His breath became labored as if he were fighting emotion. He rested his cheek against her head and lifted the canteen to her lips again. "Please drink."
His kiss warmed her far more than anything else could, but she obeyed. The liquor burned her throat and stirred her senses. Suddenly, she felt the cold again; her toes hurt, and she noticed that her eyelashes hung low with ice.
Taran had found her missing boot and pulled it from the snow. He held her icy foot in his hands for a moment, then slipped the boot on. She shivered uncontrollably and her teeth chattered. He wrapped her tight in his cape and then lifted her into his arms. "You'll be all right now, Ariana. I won't let anything happen to you."
He had already "happened" to her, but her senses had returned enough to prevent her from saying so. To her surprise, she noticed icicles forming on his own black lashes. For an instant, she wondered if he had cried, then realized it was probably a result of the exertion required in hoisting her.
She gazed up at him dreamily. "You can't help it, can you?"
He looked down. "What?"
She smiled, though her frozen lips cracked in the effort. "Being a hero. It's in your blood. Even to save me…"
She drifted off toward sleep, but he jogged her and she frowned. "You can't sleep, Ariana. Not yet."
"Oh…" She sighed. "Very well. You will keep me safe, I know."
Even in the dark, she saw his eyes glitter, and this time, she felt sure that tears were the cause. "I'm sorry, Ariana." Yes, his voice sounded tight with emotion. Maybe he really did care, after all. "I should have known you would hide your suffering from me." He bowed his head, then looked at her again. "I should have protected you, even from yourself."
He cradled her close against his chest so that she heard his strong heartbeat. She placed her hand over the spot and remembered lying naked beside him, touching his skin, feeling his power. She looked up into his eyes and knew she had been frozen for a very long time.
"Please warm me."
For an instant, she saw his heart in his eyes. He hesitated, then kissed her mouth, softly. All his warmth seemed to pour into her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. It had been so long, and she had relived his kiss so many times… The music of their dance still echoed in her ears.
She slipped her tongue between his lips and she heard him moan deep in his throat. The sound inspired a sweet delirium that she hadn't known in a very long time. She tangled her fingers in his hair, then kissed his face. He felt so warm and so strong.
The passion between them drove away the cold, and Ariana felt as if their last kiss, so long ago, had never really ended. the time between, the battles and arguments, the tears at night, seemed like nothing.
Taran kissed her with equal fervor. She felt his desire, and something more. It was as if seeing her vulnerable and in pain had made him forget his hostility for her. For a moment, she thought he would lower her to the snow-covered ground and make love to her. She wanted nothing more.
Then he broke their kiss and tipped his head back. He looked away. She sensed he was trying to regain control of himself, so she pressed soft kisses against his jaw. He shuddered, but he didn't kiss her again.
"Ariana, you're weak. I'm sorry."
She caught her lip between her teeth, fear flooding through her. "But… I'm getting warm."
She caught his reluctant smile, but he closed his eyes. "I can't let this happen again. We've both seen where it leads."
Several tears felt hot against her cold cheeks, but she refused to let any more fall. "Put me down."
He seemed startled by her abrupt command, but he didn't release her. "We have to get through this, and do what we came here for. If you would in the future alert me to your suffering before it has gone this far, we might better avoid… circumstances dangerous to both of us."
He meant their kiss. He meant that she was dangerous to him. He had said so the night they met, just before he kissed her cheek. The cold of the winter night was no match for the sudden chill of her heart.
Why had she thought, even delirious from cold, that anything could ever change between them?
Like the night they'd shared, it had been the briefest insanity,
and she had obviously been bitterly confused. From now on, she would maintain her distance, and make it clear to him that she was not his for the taking— even if briefly she had dreamed of nothing else.
"You can't carry me the whole way. Put me down."
"You're not that heavy."
"The light has gone anyway. I noticed that it had disappeared just before I fell."
He smiled. "It hasn't disappeared. You had turned in the wrong direction." He paused. "You were going north."
He truly intended to carry her. How could she bear that, with her head on his shoulder, his arms around her, knowing that he didn't want her half as much she wanted him? "There has to be a better way."
"I'm sure there is a better way." He stopped and sighed. "But neither of us has found it. I doubt we ever will."
Before she could answer or further object, Taran lifted her up and carried her toward the light.
Ariana's body felt tiny in his arms. Taran carried her with ease, but her intermittent shivers tortured him. He knew her so well. He should have known she wouldn't admit that she was weakening She would have marched into hell without saying a word before admitting that to him.
He wanted nothing more than to have her close, and to protect her. From the first moment he saw her, he wanted to hold her and keep her safe, with him. Yet she still looked at him with suspicion, then and now, even to the point of thinking he would poison her.
Her doubt hurt him, but he had done nothing to ease her fears. Maybe he was so afraid himself that when she truly came close to him, she would find him lacking. Then she would reject him. He had opened himself to her once, then felt her withdraw afterward. He had waited for her to tell him she loved him, that he was inside her heart as well as her body, but she had said nothing. She'd just lain quietly beside him, looking pensive and alone.
He had always known he wanted more than sex from Ariana. There was too much passion and too much emotion between them to ignore the demands of his heart. He wanted to ask her what would please her, what would make her love him, but was afraid that would be a secret she would never reveal.
Her head rested against his shoulder, inspiring tenderness against his will. She shivered, but he saw she kept her eyes ahead as if suspicious he would take a wrong turn and lose them again. Despite her obvious doubts, they drew closer to their goal, and the light began to illuminate a large stone building, accessible through a well-tended winter garden of juniper and small pines, all decorated with Christmas ornaments and bells.
As they crossed the garden, he saw many windows lit, and heard sounds of music coining from within. Apparently, the hall's inhabitants were in the festive mood of Yuletide.
Taran glanced down and saw Ariana's eyes drift shut. Fear stabbed at him, and he lifted her body higher against his chest. "Ariana, we've made it. Don't sleep, not yet."
She opened one eye and her lips curled to the side, disgruntled. Still, on her small, lovely face, every expression had charm. "I was not sleeping."
Stubborn to the end. He resisted the impulse to kiss her forehead. "We will find shelter here, and food. Don't worry."
Her delicate brow arched. "I was never worried."
He shook his head and sighed, then banged the iron knocker against the heavy wooden door. A large pine wreath hung at the door's center, as carefully made as the decorations at Nicholas's abode. He heard footsteps from within, and Ariana squirmed in his arms. "Put me down!" He hesitated, but her squirming increased. "1 cannot be seen in your… in this condition. Put me down."
He lowered her to her small feet and watched with a dull ache as she scrambled away. She straightened her robe and her hair, which had come loose from its bun. She adopted a formal, proud expression as the door opened.
An old man appeared in the entryway, dressed formally in black. He eyed them closely as if seeking recognition. Finding none, he stepped back. "Lady Emilia not be expecting ye." He eyed Ariana and apparently liked what he saw. But then, what man wouldn't? "Ye look to be near frozen, dear maidy. What's befallen ye and yer poor husband?"
Taran liked the man's erroneous impression, but Ariana braced. "He is not my husband!" She was indignant, predictably, at even the thought they could be bonded so closely. He wondered how she would explain their connection.
The old man's eyes narrowed. "Then yer servant, miss?" Taran frowned, but at least the man had the grace to pose the question doubtfully.
Ariana looked tempted to accept this explanation, but Taran cast her a dark look of warning. Her small mouth twitched in irritation. He knew how much she would have liked to march about this mansion with him acting as her footman. "He's my… cousin." She paused. "Second cousin." She paused again, as if the connection was still too close. "Once removed."
The old man looked between them. "Yer not of the same breed."
Ariana puffed an impatient breath. "His side of the family was… removed to a kingdom across the sea, where I have only recently been visiting. My cousin here was… escorting me back to my home… in Wales, and we were waylaid by… ruffians… who stole our coach and our horses, and most of our bags… except these we have here.
"We are quite lost, and very cold. Could you offer us some form of shelter for the night?" She paused, not as breathless from her speech as Taran felt from listening to her. "By the way, would there be anyone suffering, generally unhappy, or otherwise in need in this residence?"
Taran rolled his eyes. Subtle, very subtle! He seized her, set her aside and addressed the old man. "My cousin is addled from the cold. If you could make arrangements to accommodate us for the night, we will offer payment for your kindness."
the old man appeared suspicious both of Taran's size and his accent, but then he cast a fond glance at Ariana, who looked pert and slightly confused. "Dear little thing, toes frosted, are they? I'll speak to the lady of the house, and see what can be done."
He motioned for them to enter, then led them to a square room to wait. Ariana glared up at Taran "1 am not addled."
She was obviously healthy enough to be angry. She looked so delicate and so fierce. He couldn't help a surge of affection. "It's a little early to start pressing them for information, isn't it… cousin?"
Her eyes shifted to her feet. "I couldn't let them think we were married."
Why did her rejections still have the power to hurt him, so long after he had accepted there could be nothing between them? "That would be inconvenient, wouldn't it?"
She looked up at him, but didn't answer. She suddenly looked sad and tired, as if the night's stress had finally taken its toll on her. "You are right about waiting until we've been introduced to the household. I wouldn't want them to be suspicious of our presence."
"Then, cousin, I suggest you let me explain our presence next time. Your story was implausible at best."
She sparkled with annoyance. "I am perfectly capable—"
The old man returned, cutting off Ariana's objection. A small, plump woman accompanied him, smiling, her hand already outstretched to Ariana. "Dear child! I am Lady Emilia of Gurthington Manor. My man has told me of your plight."
She seized Ariana's hands in hers, then rubbed them vigorously between her palms. "You're frozen to the bone! Come inside, and sit by the fire with me and my guests. We'll see you're taken care of as well as by your own kin."
Lady Emilia made a clucking sound with her tongue. "My man has told me of your misfortune! Waylaid by ruffians! And you would be spending this fine, festive season among your own. I am so sorry, dear heart." She clucked again. It was possible this woman spoke faster and more breathlessly than Ariana herself. "Highwaymen. They are a problem, aren't they? But I do believe they act only from necessity and not from true evil. If we could, perhaps, lend them some measure of our good fortune, they might treat the world more kindly." She paused, presumably to take a breath. "Don't you agree, my dear?"
Ariana looked both confused and overwhelmed by Lady Emilia's energetic words. The Scotswoman reminded Taran of someone, but
he wasn't sure who it was she resembled. "I am sure you are right, Lady Emilia."
Lady Emilia squeezed Ariana's hands. "Then you would forgive them for their deeds, my dear?"
Ariana glanced at Taran and looked guilty. "Of course."
Lady Emilia beamed and nodded sagely. "They did you no real harm, after all, seeing as you are here safe and sound. Likely they just needed some provisions. Probably for wee ones, who are at home with nothing We do as we can here, to send out gifts and foodstuffs to our poorer neighbors, but there are always more in need of kindness during this cold time of year."
Ariana's brow furrowed and her lips twisted, which meant she was pondering something.
Taran knew what likely occupied her thoughts. In a home as kindly run as Lady Emilia's, it seemed implausible they would find the suffering object of their quest. At least Ariana would be well cared for, and for one night, that was all Taran wanted.
He stepped forward and Lady Emilia squealed as if a delightful sugarplum had been offered. "My word, you are a tall one, aren't you?" She grabbed Taran's hands with the same vigor she had assaulted Ariana. "And handsome! I don't believe I've ever quite seen your like." She winked at Ariana. "Your cousin, is he? Oh, to have such relations dotted about the land!"
Taran's face felt warm, but he couldn't let Ariana detect his embarrassment. "I am Taran de Vaas, my lady. I was escorting Miss…" He stopped. He had no idea of his 'cousin's' surname, nor did he know the Welsh language enough to make one up.
Ariana cleared her throat. "Glyndwr. I am Ariana Glyndwr. My poor second cousin once removed has not mastered Welsh pronunciation."
Lady Emilia laughed, a tinkling, infectious sound. "And no wonder! Have any of us, save the Welsh alone, mastered that tongue? No, even the shortest Welsh words leave the rest of us, even we Celts, staggering over our tongues." She tucked Ariana's arm in hers. Beside the stout, round woman, Ariana looked tall. "Tell me, my dear, why do your people avoid vowels so?"
Ariana peeked nervously back at Taran as if fearing she might say something that would give them away. "Vowels are vastly overrated."