A blush heated her cheeks and her heart actually beat faster in her chest, as Arianna reeled a little beneath the heady power of that smile. He is kin, she reminded herself firmly, but herself was all too quick to also remind her of the very tenuous connection of the MacFingals to the Murrays, despite his brother’s marriage to her cousin. She had a lot of cousins. Arianna just nodded in a way she felt certain looked idiotic and then moved back from the fire to give him plenty of room to set up the spit. And to put some distance between her and a far too handsome man, she thought ruefully, silently accepting her own cowardice.
It troubled her that he could make her feel like some innocent maid who was caught up in her first time of flirting with a man. While it was true that she had had little experience with such games before marrying, she was now a woman who had been married for five years, betrayed, and widowed. She should be long past such blushes and flutters.
“Do ye ken how to cook it?” he asked.
“Aye. All the women in my clan learn how to cook. ’Tis believed it helps in kenning what is going on in the kitchens of the house the woman may rule one day, or if she weds a mon who cannae really afford such help,” she replied, and then quickly shut her mouth, afraid that she was beginning to babble.
“A verra wise thing to do. I will leave ye to it for I need to clean up.”
Arianna was astonished at how difficult it was for her to keep her full attention on cooking the rabbit as he walked away. She had never had any compelling urge to watch men so closely before. At times she had paused to appreciate a handsome face or a tall, strong body, but only for a glance or two. A part of her, however, was eager to closely watch Sir Brian MacFingal, to gaze for a long time at the way his tall strong body moved, the way his long, thick black hair gleamed in the light, or how his eyes lightened and darkened with his changing moods.
He did have a very handsome face, she mused. It was a strong face, its hard lines almost predatory when he was angry yet quickly softened by a smile. Those thickly lashed, dark blue eyes and the slight fullness to his lips softened the harshness of his features as well, but she had seen how fierce he could look when she had told him that Amiel and the DeVeaux wanted to kill the boys. It was that look that had prompted her to trust him with the lives of her boys. Her doubts about trusting the man were only faint ghostly twinges now, perhaps because her heart knew she had made the best decision for the survival of her boys.
She did not like being away from her boys, detested not knowing how they fared, yet was certain they would be protected. Just as she was certain she would be protected, that this man would do his best to get her somewhere safe and reunited with Michel and Adelar. That the occasional doubt she had did not linger puzzled her. It also worried her. She did not appear to be holding fast to her vow to be more wary, more cautious, about whom she put her trust in.
The sound of splashing water yanked her out of her thoughts. Had he shed his clothes to wash? Arianna was shocked that such a question would leap to mind. Worse, she badly wanted to look to get an answer to that question. Utter madness, she decided, and turned her attention to the pack that held the supplies. She put every scrap of willpower she could gather into settling all her thoughts on the simple matter of putting together a decent meal. The whispered suggestion that slithered through her mind that she was doing so to impress Sir Brian was ruthlessly suppressed.
Brian rinsed his clothes and spread them out. The rough shelter slowly filled with the tantalizing scent of roasting meat and something else. Lady Arianna had obviously decided to add something to the simple meal. By the scent of what she had made, he knew he would appreciate it but hoped she had not used too free a hand with his supplies. Gathering more while they fled her enemies would not be easy.
Turning to join her by the fire, he hesitated after only one step in her direction. She was busily using her fingers to comb out her hair, pausing now and then to gently untangle a stubborn knot or tend to the meal. Hints of red were revealed by the light of the fire, enlivening the thick mass of honey-gold hair that was so long it pooled a little on the ground by her slim hips. His fingers itched to take over the chore of untangling it.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It eased the worst of a sudden fierce attack of lust but the sharp bite of hunger lingered. Something about the delicate Lady Arianna severed his control over his lusts, a control he had long prided himself on. From the time he had first looked into her soft golden eyes he had guessed that she could be trouble, but he had not truly considered just how great a temptation she could be to him. It could prove to be a very long journey ahead.
For a moment he considered seducing her. She was no maid, but a widow. Many men considered widows fair game. Then Brian grimaced. That was the reckless MacFingal part of him whispering in his ear. From what Lady Arianna had told him, she had little cause to trust men. Seducing her would certainly not aid her in trusting him.