by Mistletoe
She felt tears burning and blinked to prevent them from falling. Clearing her throat, Ariana took several shallow breaths to calm herself. "It is plain we have nothing useful to say to each other on this subject."
He nodded vigorously. "No, indeed." They moved away from each other, then stood up at the same time. "We have a task to perform, and clearly the object of our rescue is not in this room." He paused, his jaw tight with anger. "Have you learned anything at all to point us in the right direction?"
She refused to look at him. "There is a room of children playing upstairs. I heard nothing to indicate unhappiness among them, but I can think of nowhere else to search."
"Children have been known to be unhappy."
"I thought so myself"
Taran hesitated. "We will question them, then."
"Yes." She still couldn't look at him. She had come too close to admitting that she still harbored feelings for him, and incited nothing but anger. She couldn't allow that to happen again. Once, she had believed love was the greatest gift, that in its grip all things would be clear. With love, she had believed, all things false would be washed away. But as she headed upstairs after Taran, she realized the one thing that could make her happy was the one thing she trusted least. Love, itself.
Taran stormed up the staircase, Ariana close behind him. He heard her skittering to keep up as he hurried down the hall. What an infuriating woman! Every time he felt tempted to reveal his affection for her, her pride rose up and pushed him away. No, speaking his true heart to Ariana would be nothing but a mistake.
the sound of children playing stopped him outside a painted blue door. Small, round flowers had been stenciled on its panels. the door reminded him of the decoration of Nicholas's own studio, painted with love and attention to the most cheerful detail.
He looked down the hall at several closed doors, each painted with different scenes. Ariana stepped up beside him and touched the door. "It's very pretty work. I would like something such as this for my own workplace. When we get back, I shall set about painting something similar/1
Taran sighed. "If we get back, you mean. Our success so far has not been promising."
She offered a rueful smile, then pushed open the door. Several children of varying sizes sat playing in the room. A tiny girl with wild brown curls was tinkering with a makeshift dollhouse. The quality wasn't as good as those made in Ariana's studio, but the child seemed happy. As the girl worked, a red-haired boy lined up small soldiers and a chariot as if to lay siege to the dollhouse. The little boy crept closer to the unsuspecting girl, but in his efforts at stealthy movement, he pressed his soldier too hard to the floor and snapped off its leg. Clearly, the toy lacked quality. Taran would have crafted much stronger figurines.
The little girl looked up and sighed. "You've broken his leg again, Robin." She stood up and placed her small hands on her hips.
The boy shook his broken soldier. "My man is still strong enough to conquer your measly dolls!"
The girl scoffed. "My dollhouse is a castle, and all my dolls are queens." She picked up a pretty one in a green dress and held it up in a threatening manner. "This is the biggest queen."
Taran and Ariana looked at each other. "A familiar scene."
A faint smile played on her lips. "It is."
Robin fiddled with the soldier's leg, and managed to break the oilier one, too. Taran seated himself cross-legged beside the boy. "It might be that I can mend that." the boy looked at him with large, brown eyes, suspicious, but willing to try. He passed him the soldier and waited without a word.
As the children watched, Taran withdrew a pocketknife, made a few cuts in the broken pieces, then fitted the legs back into place. He looked over his shoulder, and Ariana was smiling. He felt as if he were dreaming; this was a room filled with truly happy children. He felt as if this was where he and Ariana both belonged. For a moment, they looked at each other, and he believed she was feeling the same thing.
The little girl took her hand and pulled her away, and Art ana set about reworking the dollhouse. She lay on her stomach, her small feet propped up and crossed at the ankle, chatting with the children that surrounded her. Taran found himself engaged in an elaborate military campaign taking place on the carpet. No matter how he tried to redirect several of the boys, they always seemed to be targeting the girls.
Ariana noticed the prospective siege, and her bright eyes glittered. "Ladies, line up your soldiers."
the little curry-haired girl positioned her queen at the top of the dollhouse, but the other girls hesitated. One held a doll close to her chest in protection. "Our dolls are ladies, not soldiers."
Ariana huffed. "Women can be warriors, too. they can be Celtic warriors whose dresses are just disguises to fool their male enemies."
Taran couldn't take his eyes from her bright face. "I suspected as much." She looked at him and her smile grew. She was enjoying the imminent encounter, and so was he.
They positioned their toy armies, with Ariana's dollhouse as the fortress to be assailed. They played for what seemed to be hours, until one by one, the children dropped off to sleep, scattered about the floor like dolls themselves. When the last child had dozed off, the game finally stilled.
Ariana lay on her stomach again, her feet crossed at the ankles. Taran liked the position because it gave him an unobstructed view of her small, firm backside. Her relaxed posture made him feel intimate, and he remembered that night long ago when she lay naked beside him, her long hair trailing over his chest.
She cupped her chin in one hand, propped up at the elbow, and tapped her lip thoughtfully. "It may be that I will have to expand my production once we return home."
He crossed his arms over his knees, watching her. "To what?"
She sat up and faced him. "To castles. And it should be possible to create collapsible walls, for instance, so that children can pretend at a victorious siege without destroying the actual structure."
"I would appreciate that feature."
Her lips quirked to one side. 'I'm sure you would." She leaned on one hand and her lovely head tipped to one side. "And what would you contribute?"
"I notice that small girls prefer more conversation and emotional involvement with their toys than boys do. I would make my soldiers with more distinct personalities, so that girls might form attachments to them"
"So you'll have some in pretty skirts?" Ha' eyes glittered as she spoke, and he fought an urge to kiss her.
" will make a few fierce Celtic warrior women. Would that please you?"
"It would." Ariana yawned and her eyelids drooped sleepily. "It is good to see what happiness toys can bring." She paused "Do you think that this is what Nicholas wanted us to discover?"
"It is a joy, but neither of us doubted the importance of our work. Nor can I believe that a toy soldier's broken leg was the sorrow of which he spoke."
She yawned again, then stretched. Every sinew of her body attracted him, and he longed to touch her. "No, I suppose not. Well, we've tried. Perhaps tomorrow will show us something we've yet to find."
Lady Emilia appeared at the door, smiling. Her presence seemed warm and comforting Taran stood up to greet her, and Ariana scrambled to her feet beside him. "We were wondering where you'd gotten off to."Emilia smiled at the sleeping children. "You've worn them out, I see. There's no better evening spent than with happy children at play, is there?"
Taran looked back to where the curly-haired girl lay curled in a ball. "Shall we place them in their beds?"
Emilia held up her fingers to hush them, then tiptoed into the room to lift up the smallest child. She placed the child in one of the small bunks that lined the room. Taran hurried to help with the others. He saw Ariana do so, too, and she place a gentle kiss on a sleeping boy's forehead. He imagined her as a mother. No distance would arise between Ariana and her children, that much was certain. They would have much love, and enough spirited fun, to keep them happy for a lifetime.
They tucked the child
ren into bed, then left them sleeping and went out into the hall. It was still brightly lit. Ariana closed the door quietly, then turned to Emilia. "It is a perfect room for children, even so many."
Emilia smiled. "When my parents died, I remodeled the east wing for them. It is a joy to me to have so many visiting and making use of these pleasant rooms." She touched Ariana's arm gently. "But you are tired, my dear. It may be that you should also retire for a lovely night's sleep."
Ariana bit her lip. "I should hate to put you to any trouble, setting up a bedroom for me."
Emilia laughed and squeezed Ariana like a daughter. "My dear, my guest rooms are always prepared for company. Because it is the Christmas holiday, and my guests are snowbound for the night, most of my rooms are filled, but as it happens, two remain unused."
It was impossible that they'd be left in the same room, "cousins" or not, but Taran couldn't help a tug of disappointment. He glanced at Ariana. there seemed to be no regret on her face. She kissed their hostess's cheek and yawned again. "Thank you, Lady Emilia. It has been a long day, indeed. Where is my room?"
The woman pointed at the last room on the right, painted lavender with cheerful suns decorating the panels. "You will be comfortable there. The bed is soft and warm. You will sleep well, I know."
Ariana looked at Taran, but he couldn't read her expression. "What about my cousin?"
"I have a fine room for your handsome cousin in the west wing. It was made for a tall man such as himself."
Ariana eyes her quizzically. "For your husband?"
Emilia's brow rose. "I have no husband. No, this room was designed for my brother, who is now abroad in Rome. Come, let me settle you in, and then please join us for breakfast. Not too early, of course…"
Emilia chattered happily as she led them to Ariana's small but pleasant room. Taran took one look around and envisioned himself on the bed, holding Ariana as she slept, or making love to her. He closed his eyes and went to the door to wait. Why do I torture myself this way? She doesn't belong to me. One night without promises should have long ago been forgotten.
Ariana seated herself on the edge of her bed and gazed sleepily up at him. Her long hair had come loose around her face and fell in soft curls, grazing her cheeks. Her expression changed as she looked at him, and for a moment, he thought he detected longing so exquisite that it almost equalled his own.
She wanted him, too. He felt it. It had to be true. But passion fueled his imagination, it had done so before. He could never be sure that what he saw in Ariana was not simply that. They looked at each other, and for a moment Lady Emilia's presence was forgotten. Their purpose in Scotland was forgotten. Everything but that one spark of passion faded into oblivion.
"How very lucky you are, the two of you!" Emilia's voice startled Taran from his daze. He eyed her doubtfully.
"Why is that, lady?"
Emilia smiled and again he was struck by her deep compassion. "Don't you know?"
Obviously, the woman thought she knew something that they did not. "We are indeed fortunate to have found your welcoming home, Lady Emilia."
Emilia glanced between them, and looked thoughtful. "My dear young man, I believe your fortune began long before this night. But sometimes the best thing in your life can be right in front of you, and your own fears can stop you from seizing it." She opened an upright wardrobe closet, revealing several long, white nightgowns. Turning to Ariana, she said, "Use anything you like, my dear. And for tomorrow, there are suitable gowns that you are welcome to try. There's one of dark blue velvet that would suit you especially well, I think/'
Ariana took one of the nightgowns and played with the hem. She seemed to be avoiding Taran's eyes, but she nodded graciously to Emilia. "You are a very kind hostess, Lady Emilia. I never dreamed when we… left home… that we should find such a welcome refuge as this."
"Nor did I expect such dear guests on a stormy night. But fate brings together those most in need, don't you agree? Even if I don't know where you've come from."
Emilia didn't wait for an answer. Ariana looked too surprised to give one, anyway. the older woman kissed her cheek like a long-lost relative, then went to the door with Taran. "Come now. I will show you to your room. It is larger than this, though perhaps a bit chillier. Your coverlets are warm, and the hearth in the corner is well filled."
Emilia picked up a lantern and went out into the hall, but Taran couldn't resist one last look at Ariana.
She sat on her bed looking confused and delicate, and maybe a little lonely. Her gaze met his, men jerked away as if she feared to reveal too much of herself. Maybe she remembered that he had kissed her out in the storm, and realized his passion for her had never abated. Maybe she was afraid he would try again.
He knew that he should look away lest the desire in his eyes Uneaten her. But it coursed through him, as if the very essence of what he was leached out for her. He imagined his fingers caressing her soft cheek, easing her hair back over her shoulder so that he could kiss her neck. He remembered the feel of her swift pulse beneath her skin, he heard echoes of her quick breams as he incited her further into desire.
She was looking up at him now as if she read his thoughts. He expected her to turn away, but her eyelids lowered and she dampened her lips with an innocent sensuality he had never been able to resist. He couldn't stop himself. His gaze shifted to her body and he saw the rise and fall of her nervous breathing. He remembered touching her softly, cupping her small, firm breast in his hand and feeling the peak grow taut beneath his fingers.
Emilia was already walking down the hall, but Taran remained at Ariana's door, making love to her with every part of himself but his body. She knew, and she didn't avert her gaze. Instead, he felt her receptiveness, her need that went beyond pride or anger or fear.
She was tired and confused, no longer at the home she had known for countless years. She wrapped her arms tight around her waist, but she leaned subtly forward as if to call him back to her side.
I want you so.
He felt her need; It pulsed inside him. His body grew taut and aroused. He fought to remind himself of the result of their last encounter. He had pursued her without hesitation, he had held her hand and kissed her cheek, and told her he wanted her even on the first night they met. He'd made no secret of his attraction for her.
Ariana had seemed surprised and hesitant, as if she doubted his sincerity. He remembered her questioning whether he said this sort of thing to all women, and how surprised he had been, because he had never felt anything like the closeness he felt with her.
He had been too aggressive. She didn't want him, not really. It was unfair to pursue her now when she was weak and tired. He allowed himself one last look at her, one last flash of sweet imagination as he pictured himself bending to kiss her, and her reaching for him. She seemed to be trembling— he had stayed too long, he was overstepping his bounds.
Taran turned his head away. "Good night, Ariana. Sleep well."
He didn't wait for her answer. He had to fight every impulse in his body, every demand of his soul, to walk out into the hall. He closed the door behind him, shutting her away. He heard her footfalls coming toward her door and he froze. If she opened it, if she asked him back in… His heart throbbed with excruciating hope.
He waited, not breathing, but the door didn't open. Instead, he heard the harsh sound of a lock being set. His hope crashed with such force that he felt actual physical anguish He stood for a moment, longing to go to her, and knowing he never would. When he turned to catch up with Emilia, he knew he was as closed in by his own fear as Ariana was locked in by her door.
Chapter Four
Taran was on the far side of a large manor, and she couldn't see him. Ariana lay in her bed staring at the candlelight as it flickered on the ceiling. At Nicholas's abode, their workshop cottages were side by side. She could throw a rock from her bedroom window to his. She hadn't realized how much comfort his nearness had given her, but she felt his physical absenc
e more keenly than she had in years.
Emilia's guest room was warm and comfortable, the bed soft and the pillows fluffy. Ariana punched one, but couldn't settle herself into a better position for sleeping. Taran had looked at her, that certain way, and her blood still tingled. Sometimes, she wondered if she misread desire in his dark eyes, but whatever it was seemed fleeting, ephemeral.
She had thought he might stay, because the look in his eyes told her he wanted to. But then he had left her. He had lured her with desire, then turned her away when she answered. She scowled. Maybe it was just his pride, after all, that had to get a reaction. Maybe he was just proving to himself that he still had the upper hand between them.
Ariana rolled to her left side, then onto her back. If only he were in a closer room, she might find the courage to visit him, perhaps under the pretense of discussing their strategy. Ariana sat up, then stood and went to the window.
She could see the west wing though the glass, but not clearly enough. She hesitated, then opened the French doors and went out onto her ice-covered balcony. The snow had ceased, leaving a dark, starless sky. The cold night air cut through her thin nightgown and into her flesh, but then Taran appeared in the last window across the way. She couldn't move.
He stood there a moment, silhouetted against the warm glow of a hearth, then moved out onto his balcony. Ariana's hair was ruffled about her face, moved by the icy night breeze. Her nightgown molded to her body. With the light of her room behind her, she knew he could almost see through it. She knew it, and she wanted it that way.
She felt the exact moment when he saw her. She felt his desire, primal and overwhelming. Ariana closed her eyes. Please, come to me. Show me I mean more to you than a conquest.
they watched each other for a timeless while, and desire flooded Ariana like waves on an endless sea. He must know she wanted him, but did he understand that she needed him to come to her first?
The image of Taran standing far from her, out of reach but intensely focused on her alone, burned itself into her mind. She held it there, cherished, then went back into her room alone.