Two feelings clashed within her. Fear. And longing.
She remembered the man who had kissed her. The man who had taught her to chop wood. She remembered the warmth of his hands guiding hers as she learned.
For a moment, she wondered if that man had ever truly existed. Arianna climbed the steps of the dais and moved to her seat beside him. Outwardly, she appeared composed. Inside, her nerves trembled.
She lowered herself into the chair, painfully aware of his presence beside her.
Does he suspect anything?
Ian turned slightly toward her. “Good evening,” he said cautiously.
Arianna folded her hands in her lap. “Aye… good evening.”
The councilmen continued their discussion, though both Arianna and Ian seemed only half attentive. A strained silence lingered between them.
They were performing normalcy. Nothing more.
Soon, servants arrived carrying platters of roasted venison, boiled turnips, and fresh loaves of bread. Tankards of ale were set along the table as the meal began.
As Arianna reached for a piece of bread, her hand brushed briefly against Ian’s. The contact sent a sharp pulse of warmth up her arm. She withdrew quickly.
Beneath the table, their arms nearly touched again as they shifted in their seats. She could feel the heat of his body beside her, close enough that the scent of leather and wood smoke clung faintly in the air.
Her heart fluttered painfully. She remembered the first time he had kissed her. The memory hurt.
“The gardens looked well today,” Ian said quietly.
“Aye,” Arianna replied. “The roses have begun to bloom.”
Arianna shifted in her seat. Playing the dutiful wife was harder than she expected. With Ian so near, she craved to touch him, to give in. She desperately wanted to trust his words that he knew nothing about the clause in the contract. That betraying her family was not some strategy.
A moment later, Ian spoke again, “Flynn says Melissa grows tired quickly now.”
“A bairn will do that,” Arianna said.
“Aye,” he said, “a bairn. Tis a blessing.”
Each word felt careful and restrained, but speaking of a child made her heart ache. She should be on the way to welcoming her own child, but now the thought only gave her fear. A child had become a negotiating tool between the two clans, and her family was not aware of that fact.
She pushed the food around her plate, lost in her thoughts. At one point, Ian glanced toward her plate. “Have ye eaten enough?”
His tone held quiet concern. The kindness struck her far more deeply than anger might have.
“Aye, I have,” she said.
He cares if I eat? If he truly cared, how could he have hidden the truth?
A heaviness settled in her chest, and she held back tears. She regretted the decision to eat in the great hall. Being near Ian without spouting arguing words at each other made her feelings twist into knots. It was far more difficult to think of him as a traitor when he was being kind.
A servant set another dish between them, and as Ian and Arianna both reached to steady the platter, his hand briefly touched hers.
Heat moved through her hand. It sent a shiver up her arm. The touch lasted only a heartbeat. He withdrew quickly. But the warmth lingered. She dared not risk looking at him, or he would see the confusion in her eyes.
Her body remembered him. And her heart ached.
While Ian turned to answer a question from one of the councilmen, Arianna watched him quietly.
His brow furrowed slightly over his eyepatch as he spoke, his voice calm and steady as always. She realized with sudden clarity that she had truly wanted to be his wife. Not merely in name. Not merely as part of a political arrangement. She had wanted the life they had begun to build together. Grief pressed tightly against her ribs.
