Chapter 14
Claire’s sleep had been haunted by dreams, again. Dancing with him, so slowly, their bodies close and moving as one. Ian had charmed her mother and David over dinner. He had laughed as Brooke asked if he wore anything under that plaid. Michael had been there, too, asking what she had forgotten. The thought had not left her mind even though it was early afternoon.
What did I forget?
She tried to lose herself in the work of the day. The messenger had arrived in the morning with word that the bride would be there the next day. The keep was in complete chaos. Neala was ordering everyone around—what to clean and how to clean it. Her normal good temperament was absent with the chores to be done. Aliana was having a bad day, her morning sickness keeping her in bed. Claire was grateful for the extra work, having been given a group of women to keep on task and deciding which stores to be used in the kitchens for the meals the larger group would need. She was grateful for the inventories at hand, and working with Finella proved perfect for her mood. There were no stories and no idle talk, just business.
The sun had long set before all was accomplished. Now, sitting outside by the cliffs listening to the waves crash on the rocks below, while the moon rose overhead, Claire had no choice but to let her mind wander. Unfortunately, no thought was safe, and none were pleasant. Thankful for the pitcher of whiskey that kept her company, Claire took another drink and wondered how long before the alcohol dulled everything.
Ian had spent the day far too busy. In truth, he was glad to oversee the work. For the first time, it mattered to him that the men had completed planting the crops and that his people were content. What could have been more important than all of this? Now, it concerned him that all was in place. He needed to be sure that the future held promise for her, that all of Claire’s needs would be met.
All day his eyes had hoped to catch her, to find time to speak his words. Not once had their paths crossed. Claire was not by his side at the evening meal, and her presence was keenly missed. In the dark of night, he found her sitting outside alone as the breeze blew her hair. He loved her hair unbound. This was the perfect place to speak with no one else to interfere. Ian could feel his body stride with purpose. Hope was alive in his chest, and with words waiting to be spoken, he approached.
Reaching her side, it was obvious something was amiss. Claire was sitting with her knees pulled up against her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. Only once had he seen her like this, on that first night together before the campfire. Then she had been lost and scared. Ian felt his heart tighten with fear. Why is she like this now? Moving to sit next to her, the lack of movement was making him wonder if she was not merely asleep.
Raising the cup again for a drink, Claire asked, “What are you doing out here, Ian?” Her eyes closed as the cup was drained.
With a small laugh, Ian replied, “I believe that was the question I was going to ask you.”
Her gaze locked on the waves in the distance. Claire answered with a confused voice. “I was just . . . sitting . . . trying to clear my head. Then it happened. Now I’m not quite sure what to do?” She extended her palm in explanation.
It took several moments for Ian to realize what she held out. “Is that what you use to bind your hair?”
With a sigh, Claire answered, “It used to be. I was just sitting here, and I felt it snap. It broke. Now what? I’m not sure what to do now.” Raising her cup again and enjoying the last swallow, she reached forward for the pitcher resting between her feet and poured another cup. Claire held out the cup. “Would you like some?”
He took what she offered and knew what she was drinking. “This is a strong brew, lass. How much of this have you had?” Taking a sip, he then placed the cup between them.
Laughing at the comment, Claire retorted, “Not nearly enough.”
It was obvious that that had not been her first cup. Her words showed the influence of the strong drink. Even Claire’s laughter sounded strange. Still, she did not turn to face him. Ian asked the obvious question, “Was your hair tie so valuable that you mourn its loss?”
She held her hand out. “My cup, please. No. The rubber band was something I never thought much about. I have dozens of them. There are some in my bathroom, some in the junk draw of my kitchen. They’re in my desk drawer at work and even in my normal purse. I had changed bags that night we met. Normally, I would never have gone out with such a big bag. Anyway, my everyday purse had more hair bands. For heaven’s sake, there are probably a bunch in my car.” She paused in her rant to take another drink. “It used to drive Mom absolutely crazy, my leaving these things all over the house. She’d find them on the table or the kitchen counter and complain how disgusting it was, something that held hair being anywhere near food. Mom would get so mad over something so silly. But now . . . now . . .”
Ian suddenly realized why her voice seemed so strange. It was not the drink. Claire was crying. Without any hesitation, Ian reached for her, pulling her body up against him to rest in his lap, with her head on his shoulder as her arms circled his neck. He whispered small tokens of comfort as she sobbed against him and he smoothed the hair from her face and held her, waiting for her grief to pass.
When the sobbing finally slowed, Claire took deep breaths to calm down. In an unsteady voice, she said, “There was going to be a party. It was going to be a surprise, but of course Mom knew about it. Her birthday, and David wanted to do something special. I think it’s now or close to now. Somehow I’ve lost track of time.” She laughed into his shoulder. “Of all the things to lose track of, anyway I think the party was going to be soon.” She wiped her face with the sleeve of the dress. “And I ruined the dress Mom bought me. The one I was wearing when we met. She’d be so mad at me.”
So relieved that Claire’s crying had stopped and realizing the cause of her pain, Ian offered the only comfort he could. “I remember all that you have spoken of your mother.”
“She will never know, will she? My mom will never know what happened to me. Just poof and I’m gone.” Lifting her head to face Ian, Claire asked, “How do I live with that? How do I deal with knowing she will have such worry and heartache? I don’t know what to do.”
Ian’s heart could have wept for the pain he heard in her voice. Moving his hands to the sides of her face, his thumbs gently wiped the tears that remained. He was so aware of her hand on his shoulder and the one holding the side of his neck. The feel of her skin against his was what he had craved for days upon end. He whispered, “I am sorry that you have such pain in your heart this night, sweeting. Truly, if I could remove it from you, I would.” Her eyes closed, and he felt Claire try to shift away from him.
It was the “sweeting” that did it. It reached a place in her mind that still thought.
I can’t be here like this, curled up on him. This is only going to make it worse. So close to him and I can’t have this either.
She willed herself not to look at Ian, not to realize that his scent permeated her senses as she moved to get away. Forcing her body to shift in his hold, she said, “I’ve lost everything I know. The last few weeks I’ve done everything I can to not think about it. There is no way for me to go home.”
Holding on to Claire, Ian answered softly, “I can nay imagine your pain at what you have lost. But your home is here now with me. My life without you would have little meaning.” Reaching into her unbound hair, his fingers combed through what wind had tangled.
“I can’t be here like this with you.” She said the right words but was lost in his strong embrace. Claire relished the contact, the soothing motion of her hair being stroked. Ian’s warmth too easily filled the empty places in her aching heart.
Ian’s body held hers in place. His strong legs moved up to cradle her side against his thighs while one arm reached around as the other pulled her face closer to his. With his lips brushing against her temple, he tried to soothe. “I had come to find you this night, sweet Claire. There are words I wish to have with you.”
Claire was trapped against him. All the while, her mind whispered ways to physically push him away and release his grip on her. She could do it easily. She knew she should do it, push away and run. Run fast away from him. Not just sit there being wrapped with his body. Cursing the betrayal of her weak flesh and seeking another form of escape, she said, “I heard about the messenger. We should go inside. Tomorrow will be a busy day?” She wondered why her voice betrayed her now, too. That was supposed to be a statement and not a question.
His lips again found her, touching softly as they moved from her temple to the side of her mouth, leaving a wake of tingles over her flesh. Ian’s tone was so calm, so warm. “These are not the matters I wish to speak of this night. They are things that need not concern us.” He brushed soft kisses against the corner of her mouth as if waiting for her to seek his kiss.
The feel of his lips against the corner of hers sent a shudder down the length of her body. The warmth of his neck permeated her traitorous hand that enjoyed its perch. Her head was spinning with too much drink, too much loss, and too much want combined with this contact. It was more than she could control. Claire’s voice was weak and pleading, “Don’t Ian, please don’t.” Again, she lost her private battle as her mouth moved to his. She let her lips lightly brush his. “I can’t be with you, and we both know that.”
Their gazes locked as he said, “You are mine, Claire.” Then Ian’s mouth covered hers.
Any thought of running evaporated as Ian’s lips descended, his hand gripping her hair to place her where he wanted. In a single heartbeat, all thoughts vanished, replaced instantly by need. She savored the kiss so long denied. The first touch of his tongue against her lips stole a gasp from her throat, giving him full access to her mouth. As her tongue battled his, both sought the other, and neither was able to get close enough. Her hands pulled at his hair, and finding it tied back, freed it to bury her hands in it, to bring him against her. There was only gratitude as she found her back against the ground and Ian’s weight covering her.
Ian’s hands roamed her sides, arms, and face as their kiss deepened. Claire gripped his hair while her other skimmed across his back, trying to bring him closer still, the groan heard from Ian fueled the urge to seek more. Pinned beneath his weight, her legs were trapped in the long gown. Sensing her frustration and knowing what they needed, his body shifted to allow her movement as his hand pushed her gown to her knees.
Not willing to break their kiss, Ian’s mouth captured Claire’s lips as his teeth grazed hers, relishing her seeking to return his passion. He shifted quickly to recover her body once more, his hips between her open legs, moving against her until she cried out with frustration. The layers of their clothing were the only things preventing their joining, and his hands sought to change that.
Claire’s body was out of control, with her mind lost in the heat of it all. She only knew that she wanted and needed Ian. The feel of his hardness against her while moving between her thighs caused her to cry out in an unrelenting demand, still not close enough. She shuddered at the cool air on her skin as the gown was loosened. The heat of warm strong hands made the cravings even stronger, leaving Claire to wonder how she had ignored this want for so long.
Gasping for air as Ian’s lips found her neck, the warmth of a hand on her breast released a strangled cry. She opened her eyes to see Ian poised over her chest, his tongue tasting her hardened peak, then seeing no more while drowning in the pleasure. Hands and mouth worked in unison to build a craze within her, creating a burning need for more. Writhing beneath the skillful assault, she gripped his hair and was not sure if she thought or actually pleaded with Ian to never stop.
She tried to wrap her legs around him. As if understanding her silent plea, his lips began to move back up her chest, to tease the nape of her neck and join once again with hers. He pulled his body roughly against her as her hands tried desperately to lift the shirt that hid the warmth of his skin.
Claire arched into Ian as his hips moved against hers. She shifted beneath his weight in an attempt to bring him closer. A gasp left her lips when she felt his hardness against her center. They were so close, yet so far apart with the layers of clothing between them.
She could feel it. Ian slowed the demand of their mouths as the mock thrusts virtually came to a halt. Not willing to let thought back in, Claire moved her hands from the heat of his back to Ian’s leather encased backside. Pulling his hips toward her, she forced the motion to resume. Encouraged by the growl emanating from his throat, she moved her mouth to taste the skin of his jaw, shifting his head to graze the lobe of his ear. Rewarded by renewal of movement, both of them gasped loudly as their hips moved in harmony.
Ian’s hands grasped hers and pulled them to the sides of her head against the ground. He panted. “Claire, there are matters of which we must speak.”
Not wanting him to break the moment, Claire moved her hips in a silent plea of want and desire. Ian’s harsh breathing encouraged the motion, but his hands did not release their grip.
Her head shook in denial as her mind started to process what they were doing. She opened her eyes to his burning gaze. “Please, Ian, don’t.”
She was left with an immediate hollow ache as Ian shifted away from the embrace, pulling his body up to finally rest on his haunches between her legs. He gasped for breath as his eyes wandered every inch of her exposed flesh, the gaze as potent as any touch.
Slowly moving his hungry gaze from her bare breasts to her eyes, the raw need in his voice shook her. “I want you, Claire. I want you like I have never wanted anyone else. But nay here and nay like this. I want you in our bed with furs against your skin, nay the rough ground. I want no layers between us. This night will be our beginning. Come with me now, sweeting.”
Why did he have to talk? It brought back everything I tried to leave behind. If he had just taken what I offered, what the evening of drinking had given me the liberty to do, then passion would have taken care of the rest.
Even now her body hummed and craved his touch. The night would have been a memory, one to hold when her arms were empty. But even that was a lie. It would have been a mistake and in the morning a regret. Now Ian was talking nonsense. There was no beginning, just one more “no” to be said.
Claire closed her eyes. “No, Ian.” Scooting back away from him, she sat up, forcing his body to give her space as her shaking hands tried to put her gown in order. “We should have never . . . this should have never happened. I need to go.” She rose to her feet only to find him blocking her way. He wrapped his arms around her.
Ian spoke with the passion burning within in him. “Please, Claire, hear me. There is a way. You and I were meant to be together. Dinna deny that you feel it, too. ‘Tis nay only passion that binds us, it runs far deeper for us both.”
Not wanting to hear what he had to say, yet unable to move away, her head rested against Ian’s chest. Claire pleaded with him. “Please don’t do this. We both know what you need to do.”
Holding her tightly, Ian responded, “Aye, we do. But we can still be together.” Claire stiffened at the words. “Hear me before you assume. There are many in my position that have wed solely for gain. These men have done as needed, as I will do. Yet they have also kept what they wished to have, the woman who stirs their heart. I am trying to ask you to be this, the woman who is with me because of the love between us. We can build a life this way. It would be us together every day and every night. You would be mine.”
Ian’s words were barely spoken before Claire pushed him away. “You are asking me to be your . . . your . . .?”
Ian retorted quickly, “Dinna speak the word you reach for. It would never be that way between us.” His hands reached for her but were left with only air.
Backing away from his reach, she knew what he meant. Claire also knew that it was wrong in so many ways. How does he not see it? How does he not see the root of it? A strange yet welcome feeling of calm passed over her as she saw what Ian was missing. She willed herself to speak. “You don’t get it do you?”
Ian tried to close the gap between them only to have Claire back away. Ian stopped moving. “What I see is a way for us to be together.”
Claire laughed even as the tears began to fall. “You’ve never ever met her, this Mairi. What if . . . Ian? What if she is someone you could be happy with? You don’t even know.”
“It does nay matter who she is or what she offers, ‘tis obligation and no more.” Ian replied as his gaze searched her face.
She heard her voice from so far away. “But you don’t know. It could be a good marriage. I will not be in the middle of something that could be.” Claire’s sobs clouded her words. “I can’t take that risk, and I won’t. If you could be happy, I would only be in the way. Eventually things between us would change.”
Ian stepped closer. “Claire, she will never be you. You are everything to me. Dinna you see? In all ways I treat you as my own. You sit at my right at every meal. ‘Tis my dagger you use to cut your meat, the dagger that marks me as laird. ‘Tis your company I seek each day and every night. You wear the best I have to offer. I heed your council in all matters. We spend our evenings together before the fire sharing and enjoying one another. I love you, Claire, and I ken that you love me.”
“And somehow that isn’t enough.” With all of the pain and anguish carried in her, Claire cried out, “It would kill me, Ian. She is going to be your wife. I know full well she will give you a family, the heirs you need. It would kill me to be waiting for you, knowing you were with her. Even if you despise her, it would tear me up inside.” Ian’s brow wrinkled as he absorbed her words, and she saw her meaning take hold. “I’m not that person, Ian. I can’t be that person. And if you love me, you won’t ask me to live like that.” Not waiting for more, afraid he would try to change her mind and that she would let him, Claire grabbed her skirts in hand and finally ran.