Chapter Fifteen

T he air was crisp with the sharp bite of oncoming winter, a constant reminder that colder days were swiftly approaching. Frost clung to the edges of the underbrush, and the breath of Knox’s steed puffed out in soft white clouds as they rode through the narrowing forest path. Soon, the chill would drive most people indoors and only those with pressing matters would venture out into the biting cold.

Knox rode alongside Hendry, the hooves of their horses crunching through a thin layer of frost-dusted leaves. The day was unusually quiet. No patrols to lead. No drills to conduct. No guard posts to oversee. It was rare to have a day unencumbered by duties, but Knox wasn’t entirely at ease. His mind was far too preoccupied for idle rest.

“Where exactly is this cottage?” Knox asked, breaking the silence as the pair moved deeper into the woods. The skeletal branches above cast shadows that danced over the ground, their jagged lines stretching and shifting with the afternoon light.

Hendry pointed toward the east, his gloved hand steady. “Not much farther now,” he replied. “I’m checking on a widow. She was quite ill last time I visited, though she assured me her sister would come to care for her.”

Knox nodded, casting a glance at his friend. Hendry had always been one to look out for others, especially those who might otherwise be forgotten—an admirable quality, one Knox had long respected. It was good to be out riding together, as he hadn’t wanted to linger at the keep. Sencha’s cool rebuff still weighed heavily on his thoughts.

“And after this?” Knox asked, hoping to steer his mind elsewhere.

“We’ll head to my parents’ home,” Hendry said with a faint grin. “Mother will be frying fish, as she does most afternoons when I visit. Ye’d be hard-pressed to find a better meal on the isle.”

Knox’s stomach growled in response, and he chuckled, patting his midsection. “I look forward to it. Yer mother’s fish is unmatched—light, crisp, and perfectly seasoned. If I could trade guard duty for her cooking, I’d take it in a heartbeat.”

Hendry smirked, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Perhaps she’ll adopt ye, though I warn ye, she’d have ye splitting logs before the sun rose each morning.”

The friendly banter eased the tension in Knox’s chest, but it didn’t erase it. Hendry must have noticed, for his smile dimmed, his gaze turning appraising.

“Ye’ve been acting different,” Hendry said after a moment, his voice quiet yet probing. “Like someone who’s lost his favorite possession. Forlorn, I’d call it.”

Knox inhaled deeply, his gaze lifting to the towering trees that bordered the path. Their gnarled branches stretched toward the heavens, as if reaching for answers even they could not grasp. “Forlorn, am I?” he muttered, a dry note in his tone.

“Aye,” Hendry replied, his eyes sharp with observation. “What bothers ye? Is it the lass? Sencha?”

Knox stiffened, his shoulders tensing. He considered denying it outright, but Hendry had known him since boyhood. His friend would see through any lie as easily as a hawk spotting prey. Reluctantly, Knox exhaled, his breath misting in the cool air.

“I am nae forlorn,” he said slowly. “I have merely been considering what comes next in life. I suppose we all reach a point where decisions must be made.”

Hendry laughed, shaking his head. “Knox, we are far too young to be at such a juncture. Is that nae when a man decides how he will live out his last days? We’ve years yet before that kind of thinking.”

Knox smirked faintly but shook his head. “Nae, it is more than that. What I ponder is the time when a man chooses a path as in marriage, a new home, a change in profession…”

“Or getting a dog?” Hendry interjected, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Knox huffed a short laugh. “Aye, or getting a dog,” he said, though his tone lacked conviction.

“And which juncture are ye at, then?” Hendry asked, tilting his head.

Knox hesitated, the weight of the unspoken truth pressing on him. He’d been toying with the idea of marriage, of building a life with Sencha, but her cold reaction to him had left those ideas in tatters. He wasn’t ready to admit it aloud, not even to Hendry.

“Getting a dog,” he finally replied, his voice clipped, hiding the truth behind a veil of humor.

Hendry raised a brow, clearly unconvinced, but he let the matter drop. “Well, a dog would suit ye,” he said lightly. “Though I suspect ye’ll find a way to make even that decision more complicated than it needs to be.”

Knox chuckled softly, but the sound carried no mirth. As they rode on, the tension in his chest remained, gnawing at him like an unwelcome shadow.

A small but well-kept cottage came into view. A large black dog rounded from the back and watched them, its ears pinned back.

“Not a friendly sort,” Hendry said slowly dismounting.

The dog lowered its head and studied Hendry, then sniffed the air, but didn’t advance.

“Ailith!” Hendry called out. “It is Hendry!”

A few moments later a woman came from the back of the cottage and Knox’s brows hitched at the sight of a comely woman who didn’t look to be older than five and twenty.

The woman stopped at a short fence, her gaze moving from Hendry to Knox. “As ye can see, I am recovered. No need to trouble yerself coming by.”

Hendry studied the woman for several beats. “I thought ye were to go to the village.”

Once again the woman looked to Knox, and he recognized her. She was Brant’s widow, one of the men who’d served as a Ross guard. What was Hendry thinking? The woman detested the guardsman, blaming him for her late husband’s death.

“We should go,” he said to Hendry. “She seems to be doing well.”

The woman glared in his direction. “Knox Ross, I hear ye almost died saving a woman.” Her words dripped with the insinuation that he’d not done the same for her husband.

“Ailith, ye look well.” He turned his attention back to Hendry. “It seems Hendry’s tending helped ye recover.”

Despite her obvious dislike of him, Knox had to admit the woman was fetching. She was curvy with a generous bosom and a small waist that flared out to full hips. It was easy to see why Ailith caught Hendry’s attention.

“Do ye require anything? I can bring ye something upon our return from near the village,” Hendry asked, his tone even.

Expecting a terse reply, Knox tensed.

Surprisingly, the woman seemed to consider Hendry’s question, then shook her head. “I have all I need. My sister came and brought plenty of food for myself and Teller.”

“Very well,” Hendry returned to his horse and mounted.

As they drove away, Knox looked over his shoulder, the woman remained by the gate, the dog at her side.

“It seems she has not forgotten nor lessened her dislike of us,” Knox said. “Although I must admit, she seemed a bit receptive to ye.”

Hendry shook his head. “Dinnae be deceived. I believe she would nae cry at my grave,” he hesitated before continuing. “A woman like her should nae be living alone in such a desolate place. It is dangerous.”

“I agree,” Knox replied, considering that he’d hate it if Sencha lived at that cottage in the woods away from people. “She is bonny.”

“Aye, she is. She is also quite contrary,” Hendry said.

When Knox chuckled, he got a questioning look from the other man. “What is it?”

“Ye have a battle before ye if ye plan to pursue her. She considers ye her enemy.”

“I dinnae have any such plans. If I pursue anyone, it will nae be someone who would have nae qualms stabbing me whilst I sleep.” Hendry chuckled.

“What of ye, I would nae think ye would give up so easily in yer pursuit of the bonny Sencha.” Of course Hendry had to turn the subject away from himself.

“The woman refuses to believe in me. What can I do?” Knox gave a one-shouldered shrug, despite the feeling like he’d been stabbed in the chest.

After a moment Hendry looked at him. “I can understand her hesitance. I am sure ye do as well. It may take work on yer part. But I have never known ye to act this way about a woman. Yer feelings must be strong.”

Knox was silent as he thought. “It is nae a good feeling not to be believed in. Not to be trusted.” All his life, he’d made sure to be the fighter others would wish to have at their back. He’d been a loyal and devoted member of Clan Ross and although admittedly roguish, not once had he forced or pushed a woman beyond where they wished to go. If anything, women pursued him. This was not exactly a good excuse for his actions, but at the same time he couldn’t help that he adored the fairer sex.

Looking up to the sky, he wondered who Sencha would accept courtship from. The very idea made his stomach sour. And yet, he knew she would marry. How could she not? The woman was beautiful and alluring and like no other.

“Ye should try once again,” Hendry said studying him.

Looking forward, Knox gave his friend a bland look. “I never took ye for a counselor.”