Arianna served Sir Brian some stew and then sat down across the fire from him to eat her own meal. She could barely even look at him so deep was her embarrassment. The more she thought on the way she had behaved, the more she saw it as wanton behavior worthy of some tavern whore.
It did not help her peace of mind to discover that every time she stole a glance at him, she looked at his mouth. She could taste him on her lips and there was a greed within her for more. If this was passion, she was not sure she wanted anything to do with it. It was too strong and made her act in ways she never had before. Arianna did not like to admit it, but going to France to marry Claud was the most, and only, truly adventurous thing she had ever done, but even then she had not suffered any of the wild emotions one kiss from Sir Brian had stirred within her.
When she finally settled down on her blanket to sleep, she decided it was best if she stayed out of the man’s arms. She had too much to worry about at the moment without venturing into the turbulent waters of passion. Regret was a sharp pain in her heart but she ignored it. Perhaps when her enemy was defeated and she and the boys were truly safe, she could venture down that road—if Sir Brian was still close at hand, she mused, rather liking the idea of that.
“Shall I kiss ye good night, love?”
She turned her back on him, not needing to look at him to see that he was grinning for she could hear it in his voice. Then again, she thought, perhaps she would just find a thick stick and hit him over the head.
Chapter 5
Brian glanced at Arianna, who was far too quiet. She had barely spoken a dozen words all morning. He could still taste the kiss they had shared. When the memory sent all the blood rushing straight to his groin, he quickly banished it. He set his mind back to puzzling out why she had fled his arms as if he was a threat to her instead of a man she desired. One thing he had never been to any woman was a threat. He never forced his attentions upon a woman or told lies to get what he wanted. And, he thought, a simple kiss should not have been so frightening to a woman who had been married for years.
Unless her husband had abused her. Brian frowned and glanced at her again, wondering if he had been wrong to think that it was simply a matter of Claud never having given her a taste of passion. He had seen what a man’s abuse could do to a woman and Arianna did not show any of the signs. The biggest proof of that was that she had allowed him to separate her from the boys, from all the others, and make her travel alone with him, yet revealed only a natural wariness to begin with despite the fact that she only knew him by name. That wariness was already easing.
He returned to the idea that the late, unlamented Claud might have been a very poor lover. If the man had never roused the passion Brian was certain was in Arianna, she could easily fear such unknown heat and need. Even in the morning’s harsh light, he remained confident that she had felt the same fire he had when she was in his arms. He might not have the wealth of experience some of his brothers had, but he did know when a woman responded to his kiss, and she had. That brought him back to what he had decided last night and that was that he was going to have to ease her fears because he had every intention of sharing another kiss with her and, if luck was on his side, a lot more than kisses. Brian just wished he knew how to do that. All the thought he had exerted on the problem before falling asleep had not given him any answers.
“We will stop soon, give the horses a wee rest, and take one ourselves,” he said, already planning exactly where he would shelter. “Mayhap have a wee bit to eat.”
“That would be lovely,” Arianna said as she briefly met his gaze.
She quickly looked away again, setting her attention firmly on the trail they followed as it passed by beneath her horse’s hooves. Just looking at Sir Brian was enough to make her blush. Her lingering embarrassment was born partly from how she had felt as they had kissed, all hot and aching with a need she was not sure she understood. Most of it, however, came from how she had reacted to the flood of feeling that had swept over her from the moment his lips had touched hers. She had leapt away from him as if he were some leper. Young maidens did that sort of thing, not mature widows of three and twenty. In truth, she suspected she had acted worse than even the shyest of maidens. She should have found a way to end the embrace with some dignity.