“We should get some rest,” Ian said, swallowing hard, a reminder to them both of where they were and the dangers they faced. And still, neither of them moved.
“Aye,” she said softly, her fingers gripping his shoulders. And then she issued a great sigh as if she, too, were fighting the same internal battle.
She moved to rise, but Ian held her back, not ready to let go.
“My laird?” she asked.
“Aye.” Reluctantly, he stood, lifting her with him and setting her on her feet. Still, they didn’t part, toe to toe, their bodies touching, her hands still on his shoulders.
“Ye know I wasna thinking about the cat,” he said, referring back to the race and what the prize would have been.
“I know. Because I wasn’t either.”
Ian’s gut tightened along with the rest of his body. He shouldn’t have admitted that, and she shouldn’t have answered. Yet here they were in the middle of a darkening wood, their heated bodies pressed together and hours of pent-up energy from racing away from the enemy to desire pouring through their veins.
There was only one way to release it, and that one resolution wouldn’t do. If they let go, if they gave in, everything between them would change. And even if they somehow made it through a kiss to move on with their days, Ian knew he would be forever changed in a single moment.
“We canna,” he said.
“I know.” The disappointment on her face was exactly the way he felt.
“I’ll take the first watch,” he said.
She started to turn away, and when he thought he would finally be rid of his raging desire, she turned back, lifted up on her tiptoes, and kissed his cheek. Her lips were soft against his flesh, her breath warm, and his face burned where she touched him.
“Good night, and thank you,” she said.
Ian cleared his throat, which had suddenly grown so thick he wasn’t certain he would be able to find his voice. “Good night, and ye’re welcome.” It took everything in him, including fisting his hands at his sides, not to pull her back toward him and kiss her senseless until they both sank to the forest floor and finally released the tension between them in pleasurable wave after pleasurable wave.
9
A kiss on his cheek.
What a coward when a few inches more and she could have kissed him on the lips. It had been a reckless and last-minute decision, one which she’d retreated from and skirted his mouth for the plane of his face.
Rhiannon was restless that night as she tried to sleep in the tent Ian made for her. The ground wasn’t especially comfortable, and the moment she thought she’d found a good spot, her hip or shoulder would start to twinge. She’d shift to the other side and feel the same thing there. Or when on her back, her lower spine argued with her about that position. And all through that, her mind ruminated, refusing to let go of the rampant thoughts of Ian. Of her future. Of everything and anything.
Who knew that the power of one tiny gesture would have the ability to shake her to the very core? That his cool cheek, slightly covered in stubble, would send shivers trembling over her skin and create a sea of unending turmoil?
Thoughts of Ian haunted her dreams, but they weren’t all good. Nay, it was arriving at her cousin’s castle to find the land burned, the castle destroyed and endless bodies until she reached her beautiful cousin, her body crumpled and Rhiannon’s missive in on her chest with a knife stabbed through it. Ian, trying to save her and being murdered by her brother’s henchmen.
She woke drenched in sweat despite the chilly early morning air. Sticky clothes clung to her; if she weren’t in the middle of a wood, she’d have shredded them off for relief.
Rubbing the cobwebs from her face did nothing to smooth away the horrors of her dreams. Images flashed relentlessly in her mind, replacing the early morning forest views that peeked from the tent flap opening.
Outside the makeshift tent Ian had put together for her, she could hear him moving around. And while she wished she could hide inside forever and not face the man she’d spent all night thinking about, her body screamed for her to get up and move, if only to work out the kinks of sleeping on the hard ground.
So, she climbed out, spotting him rolling up his blanket and attaching it to George’s saddle, which he’d already put back in place. She stared at his back, trying to find the words to tell him they had to hurry, that her cousin was in danger. But he already knew the dangers and wouldn’t put stock in her nightmares. Ian seemed more practical than superstitious.
As soon as he turned around and saw her, his brow furrowed, and he looked at her with great concern. “What is it, lass?”
“I…I didn’t sleep well.” She rubbed her hands through her hair, feeling the tangles at the back from tossing all night.
His lip twitched into the merest smile. “I dinna want to sound offensive, but I can tell.”
“I’m sure I look a fright.” She touched beneath her eyes, which were puffy and tried to smooth her mane of hair. Short of dunking her head into the closest river, it was unlikely she’d be able to tame her locks into submission with a few strokes of her hand. And the swollen undersides of her eyes, well, only a good night’s sleep was going to help with that.
“No’ a fright. Never a fright. Ye look as if ye’ve been haunted, though.” The wrinkle between his brows didn’t disappear as he watched her, waiting as she tried to find words.
