That still stung. Arianna had wanted to experience that passion the women of her clan so loved to talk about. It was one reason she had married Claud even though it had meant she had to leave her home. He had seemed so kind, gentle, charming, and sweet. She had believed he would show her that passion. The few kisses they had shared before their marriage had hinted at it.
However, she had experienced nothing but discomfort and coldness in his arms. No fire, no tenderness, no secret whispers in the night. His kisses had been a lie. In truth, everything about Claud had been a lie. Claud had been cold and critical, always critical, from the moment the marriage had been consummated. When she had gotten with child and Claud had insisted upon leaving her bed, she had been relieved, only to suffer a crushing guilt for feeling that way.
Setting down the wood she had found, she began to build a fire as that thought reminded her of the child she had lost. Grief for the loss of the child she had wanted so badly, for the loss of that barely begun life, still cast a shadow over her heart. She had learned all about the healing arts, as was tradition for the women in her clan, and knew it was but nature’s way, that there was a good chance there had been something wrong, that her husband’s seed had not rooted correctly. Her mind accepted that but her heart still mourned. She could not completely shake free of the fear that something was wrong with her. After all, her husband had returned to her bed to try again, though not very often and with little enthusiasm, for almost a year, but she had not conceived again. Considering the fertility of the women in her family, that did not seem right to her. She also had to wonder how it was he could give Marie Anne two strong, healthy boys, yet give her no child at all.
“And once I discovered him with Marie Anne,” she muttered, hesitated as a wide variety of bloodthirsty plans for her late husband’s punishment went through her mind, and then shook her head, still embarrassed by how she had instead tried to lure him back to her bed. “I but thank God that madness didnae last long.”
Annoyed by how her mind wanted to torment her with memories of her marriage, her humiliation, and her loss, Arianna concentrated on cutting up what was left of the last rabbit Sir Brian had caught. Tired of simply gnawing on rabbit cooked on a spit, she decided she was going to make a stew. It would still be yet another meal of rabbit but it might taste a little different, especially with what she added from the supply pack.
“And how that mon keeps that pack so full all the time is a true mystery,” she said, and shook her head again. Sir Brian MacFingal certainly had a gift for foraging.
Determined not to be afraid as she waited for Sir Brian to return, she worked to make as tasty a stew as possible. It was not easy to ignore all the noises in the wood surrounding her, but she found some comfort for her fear in the calm of the horses. The animals would warn her if danger drew near.
She also tried hard not to worry about Sir Brian. The man knew a lot about surviving and hunting, she reminded herself. He had proved that admirably over the last three days. He had also shown that he knew the art of slipping through village and forest silently and unseen. Her curiosity about that skill had her biting her tongue against asking how he had acquired it. Arianna was not all that sure she wanted an answer to that question.
Glancing at the dark wood surrounding her, she wrapped her arms around her body and prayed he would not take too much longer to reconnoiter the area. There was a lot of danger in trying to hunt down the enemy and see what they were doing. Arianna could only pray that Sir Brian continued to be as good at sneaking around as he had proven to be thus far. The mere thought of losing him made her insides clench with terror and her blood run cold. She told herself it was just because she would then be alone with no one to help her fight her enemies but a little voice in her head whispered that she was lying to herself. An attempt to shut that voice up by admitting that she would not like to see a good man hurt, or worse, while fighting for her did not work either, but Arianna did not want to think much on why that was.
“He will be back soon,” she said, and looked at the horses as if they should nod in agreement with her. “He will.” She knew that if he did not return, she would not be able to stop herself from hunting for him, and that terrified her.