In all his life, he had never expected to follow suit. But he had. Dillie overwhelmed his senses. Dillie overwhelmed his heart. “You’re brave, smart, and beautiful. Kind. Gentle. Yet, at the same time, fierce. There’s no one in the world like you.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Other than my identical twin sister!”
But I love you.
Bloody hell.
He loved Dillie.
CHAPTER 15
THE WIND was still howling and rain still pelted them when Ian finally carried Dillie from the stable to their shared quarters. Dillie snuggled against him, rather liking this mode of transportation and thinking that she ought to have sprained her ankle a lot sooner, perhaps the night Charles Ealing had made those untoward advances and Ian had come to her rescue. Ooh, Ian. Take me into your manly arms. Ooh, ooh, I’m so helpless!
Too bad she hadn’t thought of it back then. Well, she was enjoying the warmth and strength of his arms now. If only they could stay like this forever, except without the cold and rain. Except that she ought to be wearing a nicer gown. Ugh! She was going to burn these wretched clothes as soon as she reached Coniston.
She chided herself for allowing her thoughts to drift along this nonsensical path instead of concentrating on Ian. The attack in the stable had affected him quite profoundly. She could feel the thunderous pounding of his heart against her own chest. Ian’s heart never thundered or pounded. He was always in complete control.
Obviously, not now.
He hadn’t carried her back to the inn immediately after she’d apologized to him, although he had intended to do it. But Dillie knew he would have dropped her in bed and hurried back to the stable to question the scoundrels Mr. Gwynne and his men now had securely bound, so she’d insisted on remaining with him in the stable until he’d completed his inquiries.
In truth, she was itching with curiosity and eager to know what those scoundrels had confessed. For this reason, she had been more than willing to sit in wait on the cold, wet hay. To her dismay, Ian had been just as eager to keep the questions and responses to himself. He’d purposely kept her out of earshot, sticking her as far away from him as possible, forcing her to sit on one of those prickly bales while he’d interrogated the culprits.
Her time had been completely wasted.
How could one snoop from that distance? One simply couldn’t. No matter how hard one tried. It was quite disappointing. She’d just saved his life, hadn’t she? How was she to protect him if he kept her ignorant of the dangers?
As they reached the inn and Ian carried her inside, she tugged on his ear to gain his attention. His jaw was still tightly clenched and his thoughts seemed far away. In a dark place, which concerned her. “Will you tell me what you learned from those vile men?” There had been a dangerous look in his eyes when he’d returned to her side after questioning them, and that look was still there. Haunted. Pained. Angry.
Wordlessly, he carried her up the stairs to their room. He closed the door but did not latch it, which meant he wasn’t going to have his wicked way with her. She stifled her disappointment, but knew that Ian was hurting terribly. Perhaps he didn’t trust himself in this state and feared doing something that would harm her.
She had to soothe him, but how? What could she say or do when she didn’t know what was wrong and could only guess at what he’d learned from those scoundrels?
He set her down carefully on the chair beside the hearth and propped her foot on the pillowed stool, but instead of moving away, he knelt beside her and took her cold hands between his palms to rub them lightly. “I’ll be leaving you for a little while—”
“You’re going to leave me? Why?” She wanted to leap out of her chair, but Ian put his hands on her shoulders and pressed her down gently.
“Sit still.” He kissed her affectionately on the nose. “I won’t be gone long. I promise.”
“Is it because of those men? The magistrate will be here soon to take them off your hands. What did they tell you?” She held her breath, hoping he’d confide in her. She was to be his wife, after all.
He shrugged. “It isn’t important.”
“Or rather, so important and so distressing that you can’t bear to speak of it.” She sighed. “Ian, let me help you. Won’t you please talk to me? It breaks my heart to see you aching so badly.”
“I’m not aching.”
She rolled her eyes. “You will be after I club you over the head for that stupid comment. You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something because Farthingale men are quite impossible at times.”