Page 54 of The Beast's Bride
He loosed a relieved breath when he spied the wicker basket he’d left there earlier. Tucked under the boughs of a sheltering willow, the basket had escaped the worst of the rain. The blanket he’d left folded up on top was only slightly damp.
Retrieving the basket, he set it down by the water’s edge and spread out the blanket for them to sit upon.
Rhona sat down, arranging her wet skirts around her. The sight was distracting, for she’d lifted the hem of her léine and kirtle, revealing pale, shapely ankles and calves. The rain had wet the fabric through, and her clothing clung to her midriff and full breasts in a way that made it difficult for him to keep his gaze averted.
He needed this to go better than the boat-ride had. He was starting to feel somewhat of a failure when it came to wooing a woman. He wondered if Rhona thought him a fool.
“A cup of ale for ye, Rhona?” he asked, withdrawing a clay stoppered bottle from the basket.
A warm smile spread across her face. “Aye, what’s this, Taran?”
Watching her, Taran found it hard to breathe. How he longed to reach for her, to pull her into his arms. And yet he didn’t. Instead, he returned her smile. “I thought I’d have our own Lammas feast prepared. Greer packed the basket for me. There’s Lammas bread, butter, boiled eggs, and some oat-cakes sweetened with honey.”
“Sounds delicious.” Rhona reached into the basket and withdrew the loaf of Lammas bread, a plaited braid made with the first of this harvest’s wheat. “It’s still warm,” she exclaimed.
Taran poured them a cup of ale each while Rhona broke off two pieces of bread and spread on some butter. She then peeled them both an egg each.
“This was a bonny idea,” she murmured, holding her cup up to him. “The keep is so busy these days … it’s good to spend some time alone together.”
Her words warmed him, far more than his first draft of ale did. “The morning isn’t a complete disaster then?”
She grinned at him, turning her face up to where the sun now shone its friendly face down upon them, drying their clothing. “No … ye have redeemed yerself.”
They ate in silence. Taran enjoyed Rhona’s easy company. She wasn’t a woman who felt the need to fill a pause with chatter. Instead, they ate and drank, and listened to the soft lap of the water on the shore. Occasionally, Taran caught the faint burst of laughter or voices from Dunvegan village. Even though they were some distance away, the sound carried across the water.
Once they’d finished their meal, Taran poured the last drops of drink into their cups, and they sat, shoulder to shoulder, upon the blanket lingering over their ale.
“I like it here,” Rhona murmured. Her voice was slightly drowsy. “I could stay upon this blanket for the rest of the day.”
“Then we shall,” he replied. Tentatively, he looped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her against him. He ached to do more, and yet he didn’t.
Taran had counted each day of the three long weeks that had passed since their handfasting. Every night in that bed with Rhona sleeping within reaching distance had been torture. And yet this was his own doing; he saw from her eyes that she wanted him. Over the past weeks they’d gotten to know each other, had deepened the easy relationship that had already existed between them into something far stronger.
Taran knew it was time for him to take their relationship forward.
And yet now that he’d reached the crossroads, he found he couldn’t.
Chapter Twenty-four
Hold-Fast
RHONA WATCHED HER husband dress, admiring the way the muscles in his back and shoulders rippled as he reached for his léine.
She stifled a sigh. She’d enjoyed Lammas the day before, and the effort Taran had made for her. Only, she’d expected him to at least kiss her—and he hadn’t.
Taran pulled on his tunic and turned to her. Their gazes met, and Rhona felt that familiar pull. A knot of excitement pooled in the pit of her belly. She didn’t notice his scars at all these days; instead, his eyes mesmerized her, as did his lips. She often caught herself staring at his mouth, imagining what he’d be like to kiss.
She was staring now, but she didn’t care. Her body felt restless, her breasts uncomfortably sensitive. Initially, Rhona had been flattered by his insistence on wooing her, but these days his reticence was beginning to frustrate her.
“Will ye join us for the hunt today?” Taran asked with a smile as he fastened his belt. “Yer father’s got a hankering for roast boar.”
“Aye,” Rhona replied, her mood lifting. It had been a while since she’d been out on a hunt. Lasair loved a good run. A hunt would help vent Rhona’s frustration.
Taran reached for his mail shirt. “Well, ye had better get dressed then. We ride out within the hour.”
Rhona threw back the covers and leaped out of bed. “Why didn’t ye say something earlier?”
He favored her with a playful smile, his gaze twinkling. “I didn’t think ye would be keen.”
