Marian frowned. “I suppose we cannot. Mayhap ’twill become clearer once we return to their time.”
She paused. Màiri had told her of Ian’s offer.
“Have you given it more thought?”
Leaving her father and Alana forever or tearing Ian away from his family. It was a decision she’d prefer not to make, but one that would haunt her these next few days. Though she longed to see the future Ian had described to her, how could she leave her family knowing war was coming? Knowing it seemed likely her father would sire a son that would play a large part in that war?
“Aye,” was all she said for now. The adjoining door opened, ending any more conversation about her future. Ian stood there, hair still partially wet. Wearing a long linen shirt with a wide opening at his chest, along with braies and boots, Ian looked completely different than he had earlier at supper. But it was not only his dress that was different.
He seemed relaxed. Happy.
Would he be so if she decided they should stay?
“I’ll be needing my wife now.”
She and Marian exchanged a glance. It occurred to her that if she stayed, she’d be parted from her new friend forever.
Either way, she’d be leaving someone she cared about.
“Thank you,” she said, moving toward the bedchamber.
Màiri heard the click of the door as Marian left the dressing chamber. Her friend had assured her she had nothing to worry about. That, however impossible it seemed that she and Ian should fit together in such a way, it would in fact work.
Ian handed her a goblet of wine.
“Drink this.”
She took it from him, taking a long sip as she crossed the threshold. Màiri’s eyes widened. The chamber was full of warm light, from the roaring fire and candles placed strategically around the space. Pansies were everywhere. Beautiful winter ones, purple and gold.
“Two of the three colors of New Orleans.”
Was that an appeal for her to make up her mind? Pushing the thought aside, she took another step, inhaling. “I can smell them,” she said, taking another sip of wine. “’Tis beautiful.”
Ian moved toward the fire, motioning for her to join him. It was warmer in here, even more so near the flames. Màiri’s best shift, though beautifully embroidered, did nothing to provide her warmth.
Ian placed his own goblet on the wooden table. Stooping to remove his boots, he then reclaimed the goblet and walked back toward her. His tunic had hung down, giving her a glimpse of his chest as he bent over, but she averted her gaze at the last moment, pretending she hadn’t noticed.
“I saw you peeking.”
She smiled.
“If you do not practice with swords or other weapons, how do you look so?”
Ian sipped from his own goblet, seemingly content to stand before the fire with her for now.
“It’s called the gym. Kind of hard to explain, but you work your muscles in there, simulating the kind of workout you’d get in the training yard.”
A strange concept indeed.
“What are some of the other differences between our times?”
Màiri didn’t know how long they stood there, exchanging stories. But after two helpings of wine, she was feeling a bit more relaxed.
When she finished the second, Ian took both of their goblets and placed them on the table. His look, unmistakable. She’d seen it before and knew where it would lead. But this time, there would be nothing to stop them from consummating their marriage at last.
“Are you still nervous?”
“Aye.”
