The Laird's Captive Wife(16)
The first stars had appeared before they reached the outskirts of Hexham and already frost glittered in the blue twilight. The frozen breath of men and horses hung in the still air as the group drew rein and dismounted before an imposing walled manor. Ashlynn looked around her, taking in the house and the courtyard with its outbuildings and churned snow, while the men led the horses off towards a big barn. Then Iain took hold of her arm and guided her towards the house, a large rambling affair of timber and stone. A servant hastened to open the door and the laird strode into a large hall, drawing his captive with him. It was dimly lit and passages led off it. She was conducted down one of these and thence to a door off to the right which the servant opened. It gave on to a small bedchamber. The man set down the candle on the table and then withdrew.
Ashlynn cast a furtive glance around. The chamber was clean but sparsely furnished. There was a window, now shuttered fast, and a fire burning in the hearth. By its light she took in table and chair, a stand with a basin and ewer on it and, most prominently, a bed on the far side by the wall. With calmness she was far from feeling she turned to face Iain. The confines of the room served only to emphasise that powerful presence, and he was watching her now with an unnervingly penetrating gaze. Her chin tilted a little and, forcing herself to return that steady regard, she waited.
‘You will sleep here this night,’ he said then. ‘I will have food sent to you shortly.’
‘Whose house is this?’
‘Does it matter?’
The tone brought a tinge of colour to her cheeks. ‘No.’
‘There are things it is better not to know.’ He paused. ‘You should try and get some rest. We have another long ride ahead of us tomorrow.’ With that he turned to go.
At those words all her earlier desperation revived and she caught hold of his arm. ‘Why will you not leave me here? Surely the price of one more slave matters little to you.’
‘I told you that the matter is not open to further discussion.’
‘I disagree.’
His hands closed on her shoulders, drawing her closer. The dark gaze bored into hers. ‘Your opinion on the subject is irrelevant. I am the law here and you’ll do as you’re told.’
Ashlynn bit back the angry denial that sprang to her lips. He was the law here, every last arrogant inch of him. He was also very strong and much too close for comfort. She could feel the warmth of his hands through her clothing and the curbed anger behind his gaze. His face came much nearer to hers. Dangerously near. If he bent his head their lips would touch. The realisation both shocked and excited.
‘Do you understand me?’
‘I…yes.’.
‘I hope for your sake that you do, lass.’
Unable to think of anything to say Ashlynn remained silent. He had half-expected her to argue further but when she did not the anger faded from his eyes and was replaced by something else entirely, something she could not name but which sent a shiver through her that had nothing to do with winter cold. Iain leaned closer, breathing the smell of wool and sweet air from her clothing and beneath it, the scent of the woman, subtle and arousing. The response caught him unawares and he drew a deep breath, mentally upbraiding himself. There could be no dalliance here, however tempting the thought might be. Slowly he pulled away from her.
‘I must leave you now for I have other matters to attend to,’ he said then. ‘Get some rest, Ashlynn.’
His hands relinquished their hold and she was free. She remained quite still, watching him cross the room. He paused a moment on the threshold.
‘If you require anything else let the servant know.’
As the door closed behind him she heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. She tried the latch anyway. The door didn’t budge. For a moment she leaned against it, listening to the sound of his departing footsteps. When at length they died away she moved slowly back to the hearth and warmed herself before the fire, staring down into the flames, her thoughts in chaos.
* * *
Some time later the servant reappeared with a tray of food: good white bread and a large earthen pot of a fragrant meaty stew. She ate all of it for the long ride had sharpened her appetite. The food did a great deal to banish the chill and restore her spirits. By the time she had finished it was full dark and the edges of the room were blurred in shadow. She glanced at the bed. There seemed little else to do save sleep but at least it would be a welcome oblivion. Removing her cloak she undressed to her shirt and then curled up beneath the fur coverlets.
* * *
Having left Ashlynn’s chamber Iain was heading for his own quarters when he met Dougal.
‘Are the men settled?’