The Draig's Woman (3 page)

Ian surveyed the lands in the distance from horseback.

“I don’t see anything,” Claire offered with a soft and weak voice. She didn’t like the sound of it.

I need to keep it together. I’ll figure this out. If there was one door, there should be another. But the door didn’t work going home, did it? Were they one way only? Did he say the doors were rare? Rare does not sound promising.

Ian helped her down from the stallion. “The horse needs to rest, and we do also. ‘Tis a fine spot to make camp for the night.” Claire caught Ian’s smile as she stared in disbelief at his comment. “Trust me. After a meal and some sleep, we will be better able to travel.”

Claire looked at where they were. From the hill, she could see little but trees, so many trees, and rocks breaking through from the ground. They weren’t the mountains she was used to, just rocks a little taller than she was. Clearings were visible in the distance. The path they had taken wound along the hillside. The sun setting in the distance should have been beautiful. She had always loved a good sunset, but this one was just too foreign. Then Claire remembered she was supposed to be afraid. After all, very unpleasant men were most likely pursuing them. She turned to Ian. “But I thought we were assuming we were being followed. Is it safe to just stop?”

“The risks are too great to travel at night. The men who would offer chase cannot follow our tracks in the dark. We will leave at first light,” Ian said. “I ken that most lasses prefer a warm bed in a safe place. These things shall be yours when we reach my lands. I will see to a small fire, for ‘tis growing cold with the sun setting, and then I will go catch us something to eat.”

Claire could only stare as he gathered sticks and dried grass and grabbed some stones out of his bag. It seemed magical to her that there was a fire. She was so cold. Arizona got cold, but it wasn’t this damp, and she didn’t have to face it without a closet full of warm clothes. She sat close to the fire, feeding it sticks and hoping to warm up. She tried hard to grasp what had happened and failed miserably.

Grabbing a small bow and a few arrows from his pack, Ian said, “I’m going to try to find us some fresh meat to add to my supplies. Will you be fine here for a wee bit? I dinna feel leaving you is best. However, we could both benefit from a fine meal.”

Claire simply nodded and sat down, pulled her knees into her chest, and stared into the fire.

“Claire, Claire can you hear me?” Ian’s voice came from far away.

“Sorry, I must have dozed off. How long were you gone?” Claire answered with a sleepy and confused voice.

I must have dozed off. That seems like the smart thing to do with crazy men chasing us through the past. Maybe I should have posted a sign: Stupid Girl Here. She’s asleep! Go ahead and kill her! Just like a horror movie. Maybe I’ll go for a walk and a swim alone.

Claire gazed up at him and gave him a small, tired smile. Ian rewarded hers with a showing of two rabbits and a cocky grin. Not waiting for more, Ian set to preparing the meat to be cooked and made a wooden spit to roast their dinner.

Watching everything the man did, she mused that most guys had trouble cleaning up after take-out. The smell of the cooking meat made her stomach rumble.

When was the last time I ate? Yesterday, dinner. Does the word yesterday still have meaning? It hasn’t happened yet, or has it? How could it have, when yesterday was 795 years from now, well, my now anyway? Great, now I have a headache. Time travel leaves a lot of questions. It seems much easier to think about the philosophical questions than the real ones.

Claire wondered when pondering time travel became safer than thinking about Ian.

Ian’s voice broke her train of thought. “There is some bread and cheese in the saddle bag, lass. Care to fetch it? The meat is about ready for us to enjoy. There should also be a bag of drink.”

Who carries a bag of drink? Is that like wine in a box? If I keep going, maybe I can make it all rhyme too.

Stopping her mad mental ramblings, Claire offered, “Sure, fine, I’ll get it.”

Bringing the wineskin and the bag of food, she sat next to Ian at the fire. She pulled her black bag to her side, where she pulled out her bottle of water and took a long sip of the tepid liquid.

“Here,” Claire said, offering him some. “It’s just water, go ahead.” She couldn’t help but smile as he studied her water bottle. She clearly wasn’t the only one a little confused. He took a drink and handed her his own drink. Trust and sharing seemed appropriate. Taking her turn at trust, she took a drink from the wineskin and promptly spat it onto the fire.

With a look of shock, Ian asked, “Why did you do that? ‘Tis a sin to waste such fine ale.”

“Maybe I should have asked what it was first. It tastes like beer. I hate beer.” Claire knew the taste would haunt her all night.

“I’ll stick with the water. The ale is all yours.” She handed him back the wineskin with a grimace.

Laughing, Ian set the meat before her on a stick and gave her some of his bread and a piece of cheese. “Eat, Claire, I will enjoy the ale for us both.”

Claire devoured the meal, not stopping until she had licked the last of the greasy meat from her fingers. She looked up and caught Ian doing the same. She stared too long at his mouth that sucked his finger. She was also certain that he was aware of it.

Trying to offer a diversion, she said, “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten rabbit before. I like it.”

With a wide smile, Ian said, “I am pleased you are at least well fed. In truth, I needed the meal just as badly. Yester eve was the last meal I enjoyed, and that was cold fare from the bag.”

“Why were you eating out of a bag?” Claire asked, as this seemed the time for questions, many questions, because she needed more information. She’d start small and save the bigger ones for later.

“Nay, lass. My men and I were traveling home, and ‘twas our first night out in the open. We chose to use our supplies before they spoiled.” Ian answered her quickly, obviously hoping for some conversation.

“Where were you coming from? I mean, do you travel a lot? Is that what a laird does?”
Whoa, too much. Slow down Claire, one at a time. Learn a little something and then move on to the next.
“Umm, I don’t mean to be rude or anything.”

“Your curiosity is fine. My men and I were traveling home from meeting with Laird Tavis. Our business was concluded, and it was past time to be heading back to my lands. Nay, I dinna travel much. I prefer to be home. I need to be there to care for my clan.” Ian answered the unspoken question. “My people, I am laird, and I care for them. ‘Tis my duty to provide all and to protect them.”

As Claire tried to remember medieval history, she was only able to recall that in some places a local ruler took care of everyone. Somewhat impressed to meet someone who served in this role, she said, “Wow, that sounds like a lot of responsibility. Who does your work while you are gone?”

With a smile at the question, Ian answered, “The husband of my sister. His name is Hagan. He’s a good man, and he stands for me while I am away. My sister, Aliana, is in charge of the household. Her wee son, Cerwyn, stands as my heir. You will meet them all soon enough. I am fortunate to have such a fine family. They will welcome you, I promise. What of you and your family?” With a slight pause to have another sip of ale, he continued, “Mayhap speaking of those you hold dear will help. I would listen to any tales you wish to tell.”

“Well, until recently, it was just my mom and me. She remarried this year, a nice man named David. Mom had been alone for a long time. My dad died when I was fifteen. I’m glad she’s happy.”

Why am I telling him this?

“
Then there is Brooke, my friend, my best friend. She has always been like a sister to me.” Claire stopped in mid-speech and wondered what possessed her to share every detail of her life.

“How long ago did your father die?” Ian asked as he tilted his head to the side.

“About nine years ago. It was quick and with no warnings.” Answering the obvious question, she said, “I’m twenty-four.” Waiting for Ian to respond, she asked, finally, “And you are?”

“I just marked the start of my twenty-seventh year.” Ian smiled and asked, “No one else, lass? No man you leave behind?”

“Now you sound like my mother and Brooke combined.” Claire laughed as she said it.
Why does every one want me to date?
She chose the safe thought, not giving in to the urge to smile at the look on his face. The one that said he was a bit too happy she wasn’t with someone.

“Why does your sister run your household? I mean, wouldn’t your wife do that kind of thing?” Claire saw the humor leave his face and knew she had asked the wrong question
.

Ian answered quickly, “Aye, she would and she will when I marry.”

Claire took a sip of her water. “So what was your meeting about?” She saw Ian tense a little and shift his position and mentally cursed herself for another wrong question.

Ian reached to place more wood on the campfire. “I was meeting to negotiate for a wife. The contract is almost settled. The bride will be delivered before the next moon.” Ian spoke without meeting Claire’s eyes.

“No offense, but you don’t seem happy about that. What’s she like?”

What is she like? What kind of woman would you marry? Oh and of course he’s engaged. First attraction in heaven knows how long . . .
She knew she was losing her focus. She needed to determine what she was walking into, what she had already seemingly walked into.

Looking into the fire, Ian answered, “I dinna ken what she is like. We have never met. However, her dowry is needed to secure my clan’s future. Hagan, my brother by marriage, has worked hard to find a clan with what we needed so I will marry.”

Claire was dumbfounded by the answer. “Without meeting her first? Just for the money?”
No fairy tale here.
“What does your bride think of all of this?”

“We will meet when she arrives. There will be some time before the marriage takes place. She will most likely not be asked her mind in all of this. ‘Tis for her father to decide who she marries.” Ian studied Claire as he spoke.

Claire tried to digest what she had heard.
This all seems too wrong,
like something out of the Dark Ages. Oh crap, this is the Dark Ages. No wonder he is so calm. This is perfectly normal. Sorry, mom, not getting married here either, forgot to pack my shoes and my dowry.

“Does everyone marry this way?”

Ian answered with a small smile. “Nay, Claire. In truth, my parents frowned on such matches. But need has driven me to it. The well-being of my clan comes first. I sought a different match, one with the Campbells. They are neighbors and a strong, fine clan. Their eldest daughter is of an age to marry, and she is a bonnie, sweet lass. We would have had many a fine bairn.”

“Did she say no?” Claire couldn’t help but note the way his eyes lit up at the mention of this other woman and wondered why it bothered her.

With a smile one could only call smug, Ian answered, “The lass agreed to the match. We are well suited to one another. Her father would not meet the dowry I need. The Campbell clan offers a strong alliance, connections, and the lass is lovely. This allows him to hold onto his coin.”

Don’t be stupid. Of course, he had someone. Like Ian was waiting for me? I need to change the topic and my line of thinking. This is good. He’s engaged or something close to it. Plus, he has a thing for this other woman. They always have a thing for another woman. Stop now. New line of thinking please, and more information. His sister, that sounds safe. He brought her up first.

“Did your sister marry like that, arranged, I mean?”

Ian laughed. “Not even a little arranged. Aliana wed the man she chose. That tale is for her to tell. My sister would be a wee bit angry if I did the telling. Ask her yourself, and she will fill an evening with her words.” He rose then and went to the horse and grabbed what looked like a blanket and brought it back to the fire.

“Why were you tied to a tree?” Ian’s gaze left hers with the question.

“There were four of us. We were setting up camp for the night and enjoying a meal when a dozen men attacked us.” Ian paused to stare at the fire and then continued, “The attackers were armed and trained. The men with me were young, and it was a grand adventure for them to travel beyond our lands.” Ian paused to add a log to the fire. “The battle was short as they fell quickly. One of them called for me as he fell, using my title. I was surrounded and alone. The men who attacked said I was a fine prize. I lied and said my clan would ransom their laird. My clan would have been hard pressed to arrange for the coin they would have asked. Then I was tied to the tree where you found me. ‘Tis not a fine tale.” Ian stopped speaking as he placed more wood on the fire.

“So you are being chased so they can ransom you?” Claire asked, believing she could understand this much. Even though, to her, a battle to the death sounded extreme just to be able to collect ransom.

“Aye, lass, so it would seem.” Ian’s voice was full of disgust.

“You got away to live to fight another day. There is nothing wrong with that.”
That sounded like something Michael would say at the dojo.

Ian looked Claire in the eye, and relief showed on his face.

Sitting before the fire, she gazed up at the starry expanse. A sliver of the moon rose above the tree line. Ian caught her tired gaze. “A new moon, they say ‘tis a fine time to begin a journey.”

“Whoever said that probably meant a different kind of journey than mine.” She knew her voice held sadness, and she looked back into the fire.

“I did not mean to trouble you. ‘Tis just a saying.” With a lighter tone, he added, “Hopefully this fine weather will hold and we will travel quickly on the morrow. Mayhap just one more night on the hard ground.”