Chapter Fourteen

L ast meal was lively. Her mother’s marriage ceremony had been heartwarming with only a few in attendance. The Ross family, her aunt and uncle, and Nala’s parents.

Once they ate, the newlywed couple left to begin their new life together. Sencha had hugged her mother tightly as tears of happiness trickled down both their cheeks.

“Now ye will have to find a husband, so ye can begin a family and life of yer own,” her aunt Jane said motioning about the room. “There are plenty of choices here.”

Her uncle winked at her. “Aye, I think ye have caught several pairs of eyes.”

Heat crept up to her cheeks and she covered them with both hands. “I cannae just conjure a husband.”

Everyone laughed and despite the fact Knox had not disagreed with her earlier, she found herself enjoying the evening.

Joining Nala and several others in a lively dance, Sencha was surprised when after men joined, Liam came to partner with her.

By the time the jig ended, she was breathless and flushed. “Would ye like to go outside for fresh air?” Liam asked.

It was a harmless ask, but Sencha hesitated. What if he tried to kiss her? Was she ready for it?

“Aye, that would be lovely,” she heard herself reply.

It was cool outside, and it felt wonderful against her heated skin. Sencha walked to the edge of the walled in garden. “It is rather hot inside is it not?”

“It is,” Liam replied walking closer. “I wish to ask ye something?”

“Of course,” Sencha said, her gut clenching.

He gave her a curious look. “Ye seem panicked.”

“I am nae.” Doing her best to regain control of her racing heart and breath, Sencha let out a giggle, that indeed sounded as if she was on the verge of a scream.

“What I wish to ask ye,” he began. “What are yer feelings toward Knox? There seems to be something between the two of ye. If that is so, then I will nae pursue ye for courting.”

Was it so obvious that others had noticed? If she was to find a husband, would it be fair to the man if she was not honest? At the same time, divulging how deeply she felt for Knox would be off-putting.

“I dinnae believe Knox is ready to settle with a wife.”

Liam’s head tilted to the side as he studied her face. “Have ye made that presumption or has he stated it?”

Her first instinct was to run, the second was to scream loudly and stomp her feet. The situation was becoming absurd. How many were aware of a connection between herself and Knox? Had he said something to the men he considered friends?

Perhaps it would be best if she gave up the idea of marrying someone at the keep and instead found a husband among the men from the village.

Standing her ground, she gave Liam a direct look. “I ken it to be true.”

He nodded. “I see.”

As it was obvious the man had no intention of pursuing her if she had feelings for someone he considered a friend, Sencha began walking toward the door.

“It is best I return inside. My aunt and uncle will be retiring for the night and will be searching for me.”

Rounding Liam, she hurried from where he stood, just as Knox walked out. He stopped and looked from her to Liam, who remained by the garden wall. Then frowning he turned to her.

When he started to say something, Sencha huffed and walked past him into the house. She’d not remain there at the keep but instead she’d go to the village with her aunt and uncle the next day.

Sencha carried a basket with items from the market as she headed back to her aunt and uncle’s home. Entering the bakery next, she greeted the robust rosy-cheeked woman inside. The baker’s wife seemed to be in a perpetual good mood and grinned widely at seeing Sencha.

“Two loaves today? I also have this one made with hearty oat grain.” She rocked a round loaf of bread as if it were a bairn.

Once leaving the bakery, a man approached her. He looked to be perhaps thirty with a thick neck and muscular arms. She recognized him as the blacksmith, from the couple of times Gordon had sought him out.

“Yer the MacTavish lass aren’t ye?” he said walking alongside. “I will help ye with the basket.”

Sencha glanced at him. “I dinnae require help.”

Undeterred he kept in step with her. “Perhaps I can take ye for a walk this eve?”

Although the man was rugged and nice-looking, she wasn’t attracted to him. “I am nae interested,” Sencha replied, then feeling bad for being so abrupt she added, “I appreciate yer kind offer.”

“Are ye spoken for then?” The man persisted.

“I am…” Sencha stopped talking, her throat seizing as she couldn’t formulate words. Her heart was spoken for, but in reality, she was not. In a panic, she turned to the man beside her. “What am I doing? He declared his feelings and I rebuffed him.” To her horror, tears began spilling from her eyes. “What it must have taken for him to say such things. I am sure he has never said them before.”

The blacksmith froze, unsure what to do as she blurted out words while crying. “I am nae sure what to tell ye, lass.”

“I must make things right.” Sencha shoved the basket at him and walked in a circle. “But how? I have made such a mess of things. I was judgmental, prideful, and unbending. It is I who is nae willing to make changes. The poor man was honest and open. And what did I do? I laughed.” She held both hands over her mouth and stared up at the blacksmith.

“I laughed.” Sencha threw her hands in the air. “I laughed until I cried.” Her voice pitched.

Meeting the man’s gaze she blew out a breath. “I must make things right. Should I not?”

The blacksmith’s expression told her that he thought her to be mad. “I suppose.”

“Thank ye.” She grabbed the basket from him and attempted a smile, which she was sure looked more like a grimace. “Ye have been very helpful.”

The stew smelled delicious, rich with herbs and tender chunks of venison, but Sencha could barely manage more than a couple of spoonfuls. Each time she tried, her stomach twisted in knots. She reached for a piece of oat loaf, tearing off a small portion and biting into it absentmindedly. The soft crunch of the bread seemed louder than it should have, echoing her unease. She set the remainder of the loaf beside her bowl, her appetite dwindling with every passing second.

“Ye may as well tell us what’s eating at ye, lass,” her aunt quipped, her sharp gaze dropping pointedly to the barely touched food in front of Sencha.

Glancing down, Sencha noticed she’d scattered crumbs and torn bits of bread all around her bowl, the evidence of her distraction. She shrugged, willing her voice to sound casual. “I am preoccupied, that is all,” she replied lightly, grasping for a change of topic. “I do quite enjoy village life, though. Perhaps, once I marry, I’ll live here.”

Her aunt wasn’t so easily deterred. With an expression both knowing and patient, she folded her arms. “Are ye sure it is nae someone, perhaps a handsome archer, who has yer mind elsewhere?”

Before Sencha could respond, her uncle Donald interjected, “Jane, let the girl keep her thoughts to herself.” He spoke around a mouthful of stew, his tone gruff yet laced with warmth.

But her aunt wasn’t one to give up so easily. “Do tell me,” she pressed, her tone teasing. “Is it that handsome archer who’s captured yer heart and mind? Knox, was it?”

Heat flared across Sencha’s cheeks, but she fought to keep her expression neutral. Instead of replying, she busied herself with her spoon, stirring the stew as though she hadn’t heard the question. Finally she followed her uncle’s lead and took another bite. The savory broth warmed her throat, but it did little to ease her discomfort. She shook her head slightly, avoiding her aunt’s piercing gaze.

When her aunt chuckled knowingly, the sound seemed to pierce right through Sencha’s defenses. She swallowed and finally spoke, her voice low. “I have lost any opportunity with Knox,” she admitted reluctantly. “I didnae believe him ready to settle.”

Her aunt opened her mouth to reply, but this time, it was her uncle who spoke first. “Ah, lass,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, his bowl nearly empty. “A man never thinks himself ready to settle—not until the right woman comes along.”

His gaze flicked to his wife, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. “No man thinks himself prepared for it until it happens. It can be rather surprising?”

Her aunt Jane’s expression softened as their eyes met, a quiet understanding passing between them. Sencha watched the exchange with a mixture of fondness and envy. She felt a pang in her chest, the weight of her earlier choices pressing down on her. Knox’s declaration echoed in her mind and guilt pricked at her heart. She’d dismissed him too quickly and perhaps unfairly.

“I must go to the keep tomorrow,” she said abruptly, setting her spoon down. Her voice came out steadier than she’d expected, though her thoughts swirled in turmoil.

“Oh?” her aunt inquired, arching a brow. “And what takes ye there?”

“To see Nala,” Sencha replied, perhaps a bit too quickly. The name tumbled out as a convenient excuse, though it wasn’t entirely untrue. She’d speak to Nala and perhaps get her advice as to what to do.

Her aunt and uncle exchanged amused looks, the kind that made Sencha’s stomach churn anew. She could practically hear their unspoken thoughts, their unvoiced questions. Her aunt’s lips twitched, as though she wanted to say more, but for once, she held her tongue.

Sencha pushed back her chair, rising from the table before her aunt could start teasing again. “Thank ye for the meal,” she said quietly. Without waiting for a reply, she stepped away, the sound of their murmured laughter following her as she slipped into the next room.