Chapter 3

3

R ory's muscles burned after a long day of work. He had found himself hammering harder and longer after Torrin had left, as his suppressed frustration became a lot for him to bear. He had chewed down his food and wrestled with his conscience. He kept telling himself that this was the right thing to do, that just because Anne and Ian would have done differently didn't mean he was wrong. All he wanted was to get the meeting over with and resume his ordinary, peaceful life.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Ginger prowled close, intrigued. Rory thought it was too early for it to be anyone for the meeting. He suddenly had grim thoughts of Glenrock and his guards coming by, having heard whispers about a secret meeting. There would be threats against his livelihood. Already things were being twisted and Rory was being placed in a difficult situation. He steeled himself against the anxious knot that twisted in his gut, growing tighter and tighter, just as it had when he had been young, acting as a lookout for his sister while she deceived men to steal their precious silver. He looked back on his life with shame, even though it had been a matter of survival. He and Anne had been forced to do drastic things to survive, and all he wanted was to never have to do something like that again.

Even so, he opened the door.

Standing there wasn't a stern agent of the laird, but rather a soft and beautiful young woman. She was like nobody Rory had ever seen before, and he was so stunned by her appearance that his mouth dropped open. She was a little shorter than him, but stood with her head held high, a proud expression on her face. Dark, curled locks cascaded down past her shoulder, framing her elegant cheekbones. Her skin was the color of olives, and her eyes a dark brown, as mysterious as the night itself. Her nose was dainty, her lips rosy and full. The cloak she wore was draped over her body, rounded against her curves. It took him a moment to realize that he wasn't breathing.

"I'm sorry, can I help ye? The forge is closed for the day. If ye need something, ye can come back taemorrow," he said, swallowing a lump in his throat after he spoke. By the look of her, she seemed Romani, mysterious people with whom Rory had never had dealings with. He had heard stories, though, rumors that they could curse people, sometimes even turning them into animals if they were displeased. Of course, Rory didn't believe all the things he heard.

Elvire took a moment to study the lad in front of her. He was tall, obviously strong with dark blonde hair that curled by his ear and forest-green eyes that seemed keen and bright.

"My name is Elvira Lovell. This is my grandmother, Mirella, and my siblings, Tereza and Ollie. I was hoping tae find Ian McKendrick," she said, her voice had an exotic lilt. She spoke the same language as Rory, but it had never sounded more beautiful to him than when the words were formed by those soft lips. He cleared his throat and gathered his composure.

"I'm afraid Ian is nae here. I am Rory."

"Ah, Rory. When will he return?" Elvira asked.

"I'm afraid he is nae gaeing tae. Nae soon, at least. He left for France with his wife. I was his apprentice, and I took over for him when he departed. I am sorry."

Elvira's eyes flickered as she heard the news. Rory almost saw her flinch when he mentioned that Ian had a wife, although he couldn't be certain.

"I see," she tilted her head and furrowed her brow a little. "Well, we are family friends of his. We used tae live in this clan for a while, many moons ago. I knew him as a child."

Rory narrowed his eyes, filled with suspicion. He knew that Ian had no family, at least not for a long time. "He never mentioned ye." He placed his arm against the door, worried that this was some sort of scheme designed to rob him of his riches. Well, perhaps riches was a little too generous a description. Still…

Elvira smiled. "It was a long time ago…" she trailed away, looking towards her siblings and then back at Rory. She dipped her head and clasped her hands together, making a gesture of supplication. "We came here hoping tae find shelter with him. We hae endured an exhausting travel, and there was nae much coin left after stabling our horse. We hoped that our family's long-standing friendship would be remembered by Ian, but if he chose ye as an apprentice, then ye must possess a kind heart as well."

Rory liked to think he possessed such a thing, but he was not about to be swindled. He could just imagine him offering shelter to these people only to find everything he owned stolen come morning. After all, it wouldn't have been hard for them to learn of Ian's departure and concoct some story. Without Ian there to offer testament, it was impossible to prove or disprove her words. This was the kind of scheme that Anne would have deployed in their youth. Did he see some trace of his sister reflected in Elvira? It was certainly a cunning thing, to come to a house, just a young girl, a harmless old woman, and two children. What could have been more sympathetic than that? Most people would have opened their homes and then suffered because of it.

"I'm sure ye hae been through a lot, but I'm afraid I cannae help ye. This is a forge, nae an inn," Rory said. He went to close the door, but Elvira slipped in as quick as a single breath. She turned him away from the door.

"Please, may I speak with ye alone?" Elvira asked, placing a hand on his arm. Her fingers were delicate and slender, her touch pliant and tangible. Her eyes seemed to grow wider, and he could feel himself falling into them, as though they were two pools of dark, cool liquid.

"I dinnae think ye know what we hae been through. We dinnae hae anything in the world. All we hae are the friendships we made," Elvira said.

"We are nae friends," Rory pointed out.

Elvira took her hand away and narrowed her eyes. "That is apparent," she looked around at the forge. "Ye hae plenty of room here. We will nae be any trouble, I promise. We just want tae rest for the night until we can find more permanent accommodation. Please, I am only asking for a wee bit of kindness," she clasped her hands together as if she was praying. "My grandmother is old, my siblings are young… I dinnae know what we are gaeing tae dae if ye dinnae help us."

Rory took a deep breath, steeling himself against these plaintive words. "Ye should hae checked that Ian was still here before ye arrived."

"I dinnae hae a chance," Elvira snapped. "And if Ian were here, I'm sure that he would hae allowed us tae stay."

"I dinnae know that ye can speak for his wishes. By yer account, ye hae nae known him since he was young. I knew him more recently than that."

"Did he turn intae a hard-hearted man, then? Or did he just take an apprentice whose heart is as hard as the anvil he strikes?" Elvira stuck out her chin, giving Rory a challenging look. Rory huffed. Getting into an argument with a stranger was not what he had planned for the evening. It wasn't long until the meeting, and he didn't want people to arrive with Elvira in his forge. Goodness knows what Torrin would think about it.

"Look, I think that ye should just leave. There are plenty of other places in the village that might take pity on ye. All ye hae is yer word that ye knew Ian. I cannae place my trust in that when I dinnae know ye."

"I hae more than that," Elvira said. She slipped her hands inside her cloak and rummaged around for a few moments. Then, she brandished a dagger.

Rory backed away a step.

"That is nae gaeing tae work. I am nae gaeing tae be threatened," he said, banking on himself to be able to disarm her before she struck a fatal blow. He wasn't about to be bullied into giving her what she wanted either way.

Elvira rolled her eyes. "I am nae gaeing tae stab ye. Just look at it," she said. It was a small dagger. She held out the dagger in her hands. Rory tentatively reached forward. Her hands were steady. She did not make a motion to flick her wrist and attack him, and allowed him to take the dagger from her. He held it up, inspecting the craftsmanship. His gaze traveled up and down the blade as he turned it around. It was indeed Ian's work, plain as day, although it didn't confirm anything.

"Ye could hae bought this from someone," he said.

Elvira gave an anguished sigh. "Ye are impossible. Dae ye really think I would gae tae these lengths?" she gasped and paused for breath, putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head. As she parted her cloak, Rory's gaze flashed away from the dagger, noticing her trim waist. "Why dinnae ye direct me tae his father, or his sister? They will remember."

"They are no longer with us," Rory said almost nonchalantly, as to him, it was something that happened before he had even known Ian.

To Elvira, it was evidently a huge shock. She placed her hand on her chest and staggered back. Her mouth formed an ‘o'.

"Dead, oh… oh nae…"

"Sae ye see, there is really nae way for me tae trust what ye say," Rory said, handing her dagger back. Elvira collected herself. Her nostrils flared as she snatched the dagger away from him and sheathed it against her side. Her expression made something twitch inside him, but then it faded. Elvira pulled her cloak around her and glared at him.

"I see. Well, I'm sure Ian would be sorry tae know he gave his forge tae someone who hae nae instinct for kindness," she turned and marched out of the door.

"There is a nearby tavern. Ye can stay there," Rory said, pointing in the direction of Torrin's place. His words faltered and faded as they rolled out of the doorway.

Elvira didn't bother looking back. Instead, she placed her hands against her siblings and led them away. Rory stared at them for a while, guilt swimming through his heart. It was difficult for him to watch those two young children being led away, for they reminded him of himself and Anne.

How many times had he and Anne cursed the cruelty of strangers who turned them away? How many times had they wished to find kinder people? It seemed as though he had turned into the kind of person he had always hated, but he had his reasons. It might have been a scheme… although when he thought about it longer, it did seem more plausible that they were telling the truth.

Ginger paced around the door after Rory closed it, moving back and forth. Then, Ginger paused, licking her lips, her tail flicking behind her. She stared intently at Rory.

"Oh, what was I supposed tae dae?" he asked, spreading his arms out wide. "I cannae just give shelter tae anyone with a hard story. I dinnae know her, and I hae already invited enough trouble intae my life taenight. It's better tae nae involve them in the meeting anyway. If anything, I am daeing them a kindness by turning them away. At least in the tavern they can get a good meal," Rory said, but every excuse he gave just seemed to add to the weak foundation.

He had turned away a family in need, putting his own safety above others. It wasn't the kind of thing Anne would have done, neither Lucy, nor Ian. He thought back to how Ian had reacted when Lucy had been discovered in the forge. He hadn't turned her away, even though every instinct had warned Ian against sheltering her. In fact, it had been Rory, back then, who had argued on Lucy's behalf.

Had he truly changed so much? Had he really become so callous that he could turn people in need away? He ran his hand through his hair and shook his head, knowing that this was not his proudest moment. He hoped that Elvira and her family would find some comfort at least, although it would not be in the forge.