* * *
Bronwyn and Isla crossed the Gateway Bridge and headed for the Forest Herb and Bakery Shop. He squeezed her hand. When she looked up at him, he saw the worry etched on her face. She had struck a lord of Aruam Castle. Unbelievable! He didn’t know how to discipline her for her actions because of their shocking nature. Sanderson didn’t want him to reprimand her, but he felt he had no choice. Her actions were inexcusable. He sighed. His anger worried her. Shouldn’t it? He released another sigh. Being a das proved to be the most challenging and most confusing position he’d held. Yet, he never considered relinquishing it.
He spotted an empty bench near a shop window where they could sit and discuss the matter. He sat down and gestured for her to sit beside him. He took a deep breath to calm his emotions and gather his thoughts. When he looked over and saw tears welling in her eyes, he couldn’t punish her.
“Isla, I won’t lie. I’m disappointed by your actions. Striking Lord Peadar is…is inexcusable.” He wiped a tear from her cheek. “But I understand. You’re young, and it’s difficult to sort your emotions with the recent events. It’s difficult for me to cope, so it would be doubly so for you.”
“Das, I’m sorry. I never meant to disappoint you.” She clung to his hand. “Please, don’t be mad. I won’t ever do it again. Promise. I’ll be good.”
“I’m not angry.” Bronwyn pulled her into his arms. “Isla, you are good. You’re the best child a das could have.” He kissed the top of her head and lifted her chin to face him. “Don’t ever forget that.”
“I won’t. I’ll try to be wise like Sandy said. I’ll fix things instead of getting angry.”
“Remember when you do wrong, I still love you. I always will. Nothing you can do will change the way I feel.”
“Nothing?” She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve. “Nothing at all?”
He kissed her cheek. “Nothing.”
“What if I threw a rock and broke the glass?” She pointed to the large shop window behind them.
He frowned. “You’d be in trouble, but I’d still love you.”
“What if I stuck out my foot and tripped an old woman walking by?”
He gently grabbed her by the front of her vest. “Oh, you’d be in big trouble.” He grinned. “But I’d still love you.”
She leant close to his face. “What if I took your fenberry jam and dumped it over Mulryan’s head?”
“Let me put it this way: you’d be so busy cleaning our quarters you wouldn’t know if the sun shined or the rain fell…But I’d still love you.”
“Why?”
“Why? Well, it’s as easy as asking you the same questions. Would you still love me if I broke a window, tripped an old woman or dumped jam on Mulryan’s head?” The stare puzzled him until he realised what he’d said. “Would you still love me if I accidentally dropped your favourite book in the fire?” She nodded, and he continued. “Would you love me if I lost your precious stones in the river?”
She gave him a serious look. “Yeah.”
“I see I’m pushing my luck.” He chuckled and gave her a big hug. “Isla, it’s hard to explain. You have to trust me on this. You do trust me?”
“Of course, I do.” She knelt on the bench and wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “Do you forgive me?”
“Like a sprite does the moon for shining so bright.” On occasions like this, the familiar phrase created by them long ago brought a discussion to a happy ending.
Isla squeezed his neck. “I’d do anything for you.”
“For you, too.”
“Love you.”
“And you.” Bronwyn smiled. He couldn’t wish for a more wonderful child, and as Alaura had said, mistakes were an intricate part of growing up. How he dealt with those mistakes made the difference in how she learnt from them.
“Can I be with Alaura today?” She gave him an uncertain stare.
“Alaura’s not well. I’ve explained this to you. She needs a few days to recover.”
“I miss her, das. You’d tell me if she was in real danger, right?”
He forced a smile. “Alaura’s going to be fine. In a few days, you’ll be able to see her.”
“Will you take me to Moon Meadow?”
“As soon as I know Alaura is well. Until then my parents are happy to have you with them. Your granddas is looking forward to your help.” He stood and reached for her hand.
Isla jumped from the bench and wrapped her fingers around his. “I’ll be a big help. Promise.”
He chuckled. “I expect nothing less.” His need to see Alaura only grew the longer they remained apart, but he knew she needed her rest. Still, maybe he’d take a ride to Moon Meadow later today and inquire about her progress.
He looked up when he heard footsteps approach and saw Catriona. She wore a cloak which covered her entire body. Instead of her usual brisk pace, she walked with a limp. When she neared, it shocked him to see multiple cuts and bruises on her face.
“Catriona! What happened?” Bronwyn tried to catch her elbow, but she stepped out of his reach. “Are you well?”
“Fine,” she said in a hushed voice. She waved him off and scurried away.
He watched her head in the direction of her dwelling. Many things ran through his mind. Had she attended the public inquest? If so what had she done while they killed Liam’s das? And who had attacked her? He’d visit her dwelling later and seek the answers.
As they neared the bakery, Bronwyn saw his dad adjusting a strap on the horse’s harness. Gaven was preparing to make deliveries outside the town walls. Isla would accompany him.
“Good morning, son.” Gaven gave Isla a big hug. “And how is my little helper this fine morning? Ready for a waggon ride?”
“Can I steer?”
“You’re a little young, yet.” Gaven leant close and whispered, “As long as you don’t tell your das.” He winked. In a louder voice, he said, “We have a surprise visitor this morning. You should run in and see her before we leave.”
“Who is it?”
“I’m not telling. She’s waiting on you in the storage room.” Gaven watched Isla bound up the steps. “Here, hold onto this strap while I go ‘round the other side and adjust the cinch.” He handed his son the leather strap attached to the harness.
Bronwyn looked over the team of exceptional horses. They’d made deliveries for years and could probably find their way to each stop without a driver. “Who is the surprise visitor?” One of his sisters probably waited inside. With no children of their own, they enjoyed making things for Isla at their dress shop. They often teased him about his little girl looking more like a boy because she never wore dresses. He didn’t choose her wardrobe; Isla preferred shirts and trousers. A dress got in the way of her outgoing spirit.
“Alaura.”
The dwarf shot a glance at his dad. “Did you say Alaura?”
“Yup. She’s waited a good thirty minutes. Pull on the strap a bit.”
He pulled on the strap as he looked towards the bakery door. A healed Alaura waited for him inside. He wished his dad would hurry.
“Darn. This doesn’t want to fit today.”
Bronwyn felt the tug on the strap. The horses took a few steps forward, and he grabbed the bridle to steady them. “Does she look well?”
Gaven looked up from his work. “Who?”
“Alaura.”
“Oh. She looks good. A little pale, yet, but she said her strength is returning.”
The news brought Bronwyn relief, but he’d feel better when he could see for himself. He heard his dad curse and felt the strap go slack.
“I’ll be another minute.”
Bronwyn groaned.
Five minutes later, the strap secure, Brownyn bounded up the steps, leaving his dad chattering to himself. He looked around the bakery and found it empty. He walked to the storage room in the back. His nerves fluttered with the anticipation of seeing Alaura again. He wanted her to be well, and he wanted to test the waters of the
ir new found closeness. Now would she accept a date with him? Thoughts of them together before the inquest as he touched every sensual part of her body then afterwards as they clung together sharing memories raced through his mind.
When Bronwyn stepped into the storage room, he disturbed a conversation betwixt Isla and Alaura. It looked serious. He hoped his daughter hadn’t caused her more worry; she still suffered from the horrific attack. Isla hugged Alaura and whispered in her ear. He tried to eavesdrop, but she spoke too low, possibly in cant. Before Isla left the room, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.
He returned the hug. “Take care of your granddas. He gets side-tracked now and again.”
Isla beamed “He’s like you.” Before releasing him from her hug, she whispered, “Sandy was right. When you think about things, it’s easier to fix what’s wrong. I know you didn’t want me to tell Alaura how you felt, but I did. She understands.”
His body temperature rose. Had she told Alaura about wanting to steal a kiss? He watched his daughter skip out of sight, taking his courage with her. Bashfully, he looked at Alaura who sat on a stool next to the table. “Ah…well, it’s um…” He stepped nearer. “Children. Isla has a great imagination. She doesn’t really understand the way…uh, the way things are with adults.”
“It’s okay. Isla told me how you feel.” She smiled, closing the book in front of her. “I feel the same way.”
“Really?” Relief washed over him. Maybe Isla had done him a favour after all. “I thought you might, but you wouldn’t…You never said anything.” He leant closer. “Isla had told me so. I should have believed her.”
“She’s a keen little girl. It’s why I know she’ll be fine. She’ll miss Liam, but between the two of us, we’ll keep her busy.” She stared into his eyes.
He hesitated. “Aren’t we talking about me…I mean us?”
She looked puzzled. “We’re talking about you and Isla. You’re worried she’ll be lonely.” She patted his hand resting on the table. “In a few days, I’ll be well enough to spend time with her. Together we’ll see her through this.” She squeezed his hand for reassurance.
Bronwyn looked at the floor. He had assumed wrong. Isla hadn’t told her about the way he felt.
“What did you think we were talking about?” Alaura lifted his chin. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Isla had worried me is all.”
“Liar.” She wrapped her fingers around the front of his shirt and pulled him towards the stool. “Tell me the truth.”
He tried to look away but became lost in the reflections in her eyes. The light entering the window danced and sparkled in them, teasing him to reveal his thoughts. So much had happened in the past week: the murder of Lady Dasia, the inquest and now Liam and his meeme leaving. The incidents had pushed and shoved him and Alaura in many directions, often with fleeting moments of intimacy.
“I’m not leaving until you tell me.” She smiled and held his shirt firm. “You’ve been there for me when I most needed a friend. If there’s anything I can do for you, I want to do it.” She leant closer and tilted her head to look into his eyes.
“I…I’m not good with words…saying things to you.” He couldn’t resist her smile, her closeness, her scent. They filled his senses and jumbled his thoughts. His gaze fell upon her lips and his mind emptied. He wanted to kiss them.
He heard her catch her breath, as if she now realised what he wanted. Though ignorant of magic, he felt her freeze as if he had cast a Be-still Spell. He leant closer and felt the warm tug of her body on his skin. Her eye lids drooped as if she was prepared to savour whatever pleasures he intended to deliver. The weight of her hand on his shirt drew him nearer until he felt her breath on his lips.
“I can’t find it anywhere!” Maisie threw open the door and froze as she saw her son and Alaura in a lover’s embrace.
“Goodness!” Alaura shoved them apart.
“Mum!” Bronwyn stepped away from Alaura and straightened his shirt. “We were…talking. Talking about…Isla. Liam. Lessons.” He fumbled with the words, trying to hide what his mum suspected.
“Don’t let me interrupt.” Maisie half smiled. “Continue.”
The pair exchanged glances. Did Maisie expect them to kiss in front of her?
“I have to go.” Alaura slid the book from the table and started for the door.
“Don’t leave because of me,” said Maisie. “I’ll be out of your way in a moment. Gaven said he left the delivery list in here. Did you see it?”
“No, I didn’t.” Alaura moved closer to the door. “I really must go. Beathas is waiting for me.”
“Then travel safe, my dear.” Maisie placed a hand on Alaura’s arm. “Our door is always open to you.”
Alaura left the room.
“I have things to do, too.” Bronwyn attempted to leave, but his mum closed the door and stood in front of it. He took deep breaths to slow his racing pulse. He had almost kissed Alaura; his mind could focus on nothing else. “Mum,”—he gestured at the door—“may I pass?”
“Sit down.” She pointed to the stool.
“Can’t this wait?”
“It can’t. Sit.”
He threw his arms up in surrender and sat on the stool. “What’s so important that can’t wait?” When his mum put her hands on her hips, he knew a lecture followed.
“How are things betwixt you and Alaura?”
“They’re fine.”
Maisie frowned. “You’ve stumbled your way around that sweet girl for years. You’re a grown man, but you’re acting like a timid boy. Does this kiss mean you have decided to be more than friends?”
“Mum, I’m not talking about this with you.” He stood to leave, but she pushed him back onto the stool.
“That’s the problem. You won’t talk!” She glared at him. “This bashfulness was cute when you were a boy, but now it threatens to keep you from the one who cares about you.”
“Mum, I have everything under control.”
“As you had control of Breckin?”
The painful memory from long ago resurfaced. He swallowed hard.
“I don’t know exactly what she did to you because you refused to talk about it, but from the rumours which circulated, I learnt what your friends and siblings thought happened.”
“Mum, I don’t—”
She put her hand over his mouth and spoke in a softer voice. “I know she hurt you in the worse way, honey, but Alaura’s not like her.”
“I know, Mum.” His voice cracked. He could still smell the blooming lilac in the garden where he had let down his defences and allowed the woman he adored lead him into a compromising position. “Alaura’s nothing like her. She’s an evil witch.”
“And she has entrapped you all these years, frozen you in the moment of betrayal.” Maisie brushed her son’s hair with her fingers. “It’s still fresh in your heart because you haven’t dealt with it.”
“Mum, I want to forget about it. Bury it. Never talk of it.”
“If you do, you won’t ever be free of it. Don’t let her claim your entire life. You’ve given her more than enough. Take it back.”
“There’s nothing I can do but try and forget about it.”
“No. You need to tell the one who matters most.”
He shook his head and pushed his mum away. “I won’t. A real man forgets such things and moves on.”
“You’d lose Alaura to your embarrassment? Isn’t she worth swallowing your pride for?”
“Alaura wouldn’t understand. We’re only friends, after all.” His mum glared at him. She saw through his lie. “I can’t.” He surrendered to the ache in heart. “I want to forget about the stupid, weak-minded, naive fool who that bitch suckered!” He clenched his fists, wishing he could strike out at something, anything. Over the past few days, he’d struggled to control his anger. Thinking about Breckin threatened to send him over the edge.
“Why do you blame yourself? She did this to you!”
“Why don’t you blame your dad, too? He’s the one you inherited this bashfulness from. Girls terrified him in his boyhood.”
Bronwyn had no knowledge of this. He tried to imagine his dad fumbling for words with his mum.
“I know what you’re thinking: he’s confident and cocky. But you didn’t know him in his youth.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“He hides it well; better than you.” She put her hands back on her hips. “When we courted, he told me nothing. I had to ask him out for a picnic. Otherwise, I had to hope he’d happen by while I sat on the blanket with the basket. If not for me reading his mind, none of you children would have been conceived.”
Bronwyn would have laughed if she hadn’t described his own methods of courting Alaura. On several occasions he’d tried to ask for her time, but for one reason or another, his attempts failed.
The door opened and Gaven walked into the room. The silence he met stopped him in his tracks. “What?” he asked innocently. “Did you find the delivery list?”
“It’s time you had the talk with your son about spring birds and twitterpation,” said Maisie sarcastically. She walked past her husband and gave him a defiant look.
Gaven looked at his son. “You’re thirty-two years old—a little old for the talk on girls.”
“Thanks a lot, Dad.” Bronwyn walked away, leaving his dad alone in the middle of the room, scratching his head.
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