“Ye are bold,” she whispered.
“Only when I must be,” he replied softly.
She lay back once more, staring up at the moon as though it might steady her. “I daenae ken what awaits us,” she admitted. “After the last outing.”
His hand brushed lightly against hers, not grasping, merely resting close enough to promise. Her fingers inched toward his until they touched. The contact was slight, almost accidental, yet it sent a thrill through her that was far stronger than the wine. She smiled into the darkness, her heart aching with a yearning she no longer wished to deny.
Above them, the stars burned bright and unyielding, silent witnesses to promises unspoken yet deeply felt. Arianna closedher eyes for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm of Ian’s breathing beside her. Whatever waited beyond the final outing, she knew she would step toward it with both fear and longing. And as his hand finally curled fully around hers, she felt that perhaps longing might win.
Arianna felt the shift in the air before he even spoke. Ian rose from the bedroll, and looked down at her with a steady expression.
“Well,” he said, voice low and certain, “’tis time for bed. The tent will shield us from the morning dew.”
Her stomach fluttered at once, and she pushed herself up upon her elbows. “Oh,” she said, striving for lightness and failing a little, “in the tent? Just the two of us?”
The moonlight caught the corner of his mouth as it curved into a smirk.
“Unless ye wish to sleep out here alone with all the night creatures,” he replied mildly, glancing toward the dark line of trees.
A distant rustle seemed to answer him, and Arianna’s eyes widened despite herself. “No, no,” she said quickly, scrambling for composure, “I’ll sleep in the tent.”
He stepped closer without another word and bent to scoop her into his arms as though she weighed no more than a bundle ofpotatoes. A soft gasp escaped her before she could stop it, and her hands flew to his shoulders for balance.
“Ian,” she whispered, half scandalized and half thrilled, “ye could at least warn a body.”
“Where would be the sport in that?” he murmured, carrying her toward the tent with infuriating ease. She could feel the strength in him, solid and unyielding, and her pulse thudded against her ribs. “I am nae a sack of oats,” she muttered.
“Nay,” he agreed, ducking inside the tent, “ye are far more stubborn.”
He set her gently upon the bedroll within, arranging the blanket about her legs with surprising care. The interior smelled faintly of canvas and smoke, the air close but warmer than outside.
He straightened and turned to secure the flaps, tying them firmly so the night breeze would not steal their warmth. Arianna watched him in silence, aware of the sudden intimacy of the small space. The world beyond the canvas seemed distant now, reduced to faint sounds and shifting shadows.
Ian crouched near the entrance and tugged off his boots, setting them neatly aside. Arianna’s gaze followed the deliberate movements of his hands, and she swallowed. He looked up at her then, catching her staring, and one brow lifted in quiet amusement.
“Daenae tell me ye’ve never seen a man remove his boots afore,” he said dryly. “I have,” she replied quickly, though her voice lacked conviction. “I simply didnae ken it was such a spectacle.”
He moved closer, kneeling at her feet. “Hold still,” he instructed gently, his hands closing around her ankle with care. The warmth of his touch sent a ripple through her, and she fought the urge to draw in a sharp breath.
He eased off her boots slowly, mindful of her earlier injury, and set them beside his own. When he straightened, his eyes lingered on her a fraction too long. There was hunger there, unmistakable and unguarded, and it made her throat go dry.
She gulped and clutched the blanket tighter about her. “Ian,” she began uncertainly.
He leaned nearer, his voice dropping. “Daenae fash yerself, lass,” he said softly. “I will keep me promise.”
The reminder steadied her and unsettled her all at once. She nodded, though her heart hammered wildly. “I ken ye will,” she whispered.
He stretched out beside her, leaving a careful span of space between them. “There now,” he said lightly, folding one arm beneath his head. “Safe as a bairn in her cradle.”
She turned her head to glare at him. “I am nae a bairn,” she protested.
“Then cease tremblin' like one,” he countered, though there was no cruelty in his tone.
She stiffened at once. “I am nae tremblin'.”
“Aye,” he murmured, shifting slightly closer, “ye are.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then realized he was right.
