Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Ada

I t is late on a Monday afternoon. At Tim's insistence, I have had today off. Betsy suggested that we go to the markets. It turned out to be a wonderful day once I overcame my fears of being outside again.

I used some of my savings to purchase two blankets for my bed: one in pretty lilac and one in sky blue. They are made of merino wool and feel like clouds in my hands. I can't wait to put them on my bed tonight. If I were the princess from my book, I would buy a dozen in every color.

Earlier, we had stopped by a little baker's shop where Betsy insisted on buying us both a thick slab of honey cake. I swear it is the tastiest thing I have ever eaten, and I savored every bite. I can only reflect on my change in fortune: how a desperate moment as two young women clung together in fear and sorrow led to friendship and a new beginning. To be able to buy such luxury blankets, when I once had threadbare ones that barely offered protection from the cold nights, is a source of wonder to me. I am rich not only in blankets, but I have three dresses, a winter coat, and two pairs of boots.

Knowing that my father is gone has lifted a great weight from my shoulders, and Callum made it happen.

I know my thoughts about the young man have already drifted toward love. What woman could resist a kind and considerate man who makes her breathless when he touches her… and who saved her life?

"You know he's fighting tonight, don't you?" Betsy says, a knowing smile upon her lips. She loops her arm through mine as we stroll back toward the tavern.

I glance across at her. "Fighting? Who is fighting?" My heart is instantly aflutter. I have the strangest feeling she's talking about Callum, because she always gets that look on her face whenever she talks about the apprentice blacksmith who has been so instrumental in the changes to my life.

"Callum," she confirms.

"What sort of fight?" I ask, my stomach all in knots. "Why would he fight? Is it something to do with my pa?"

"Oh, no, lass. You know your father is long gone. He will likely be at the mines by now, and there is no escape from there."

Her words calm me. Maybe I ought to feel sorrow when I learn about my father's fate, but the truth is I only feel relief. Callum said I would never need to worry about him again, and I trust Callum to speak true.

"But why is he fighting, then?"

Betsy grins. "I used to sneak in, but my pa found out and put an end to that. He knows me well, though, and at the risk of me sneaking off again, he now comes with me."

I shake my head in confusion.

"An underground competition," she says, "It's held in a warehouse at the docks. You could come with me if you want to. Monday is always quiet at the tavern, especially when the competition is on. It's the only reason my pa would leave the tavern in someone else's care. Say you will come, Ada. Also, Callum's pa is going to be there." She makes a pouty expression.

Betsy is a free spirit and enjoys the pleasures of many men, but Callum's father seems to be the only man she pursues who has rebuffed her every advance.

"Does he fight, too?" I ask, idly, although my mind is not on the older man. I can't rightly say how I feel about watching Callum fight. I'm nervous, for sure, but I am also curious.

"No," she says. "Not anymore. But he used to when he was younger. That was the first time I snuck into the fight. I was only eighteen then—I can't believe that was five years ago. Goddess weep, Heath could handle himself. Those big capable hands and those thick slabs of muscle… He is older now, but that only makes him more attractive. I would worship him how he deserves if only he would show a lick of sense. He has not been with a woman since his wife died, and that was seven years ago. He has brought up a fine son and deserves a little happiness, don't you think?"

"For sure," I agree, although I am distracted from her gushing admiration for Callum's father by the knowledge that Callum will be fighting. "He won't be hurt, will he?"

She chuckles and side-eyes me. "It's a fight, lass. Unless, by some miracle, nobody lands a blow, he will assuredly be hurt."

"Oh, I cannot stand the thought of him being hurt. I saw his hands after… after my father, and that broke my heart."

"Well, no one forces him to compete. I overheard him and his pa discussing how it keeps his skills sharp. They hold the fights once a month, and he takes part as often as not—and has done so for several years. Do you want to go, Ada?"

We have reached the tavern. Betsy stops me before we have gone through the archway leading to the back and the entrance we use.

The question hangs between us.

Do I want to go?

The answer is far from simple. A part of me is horrified at the thought of Callum fighting in a competition. But if I don't go, then I shall be sick with worry until I can see him with my own eyes. I try to conjure scenarios where I might have a reason to go to the blacksmith shop tomorrow just so that I can check on him.

It is not all aversion, my inner hussy taunts. I remember the night he rescued me from the markets, carrying me home in his arms.

I think about his hands after he had dealt with my father, all split and the skin broken and bruised.

My thoughts shift to his broad shoulders, his firm belly, and his cock that I have yet to feel inside me, although we have slipped away to the hay barn whenever he comes into the tavern and shared pleasure. He has been reserved about taking the next step, saying there is no rush… and he would rather it be in a proper bed.

Which makes me blush now when I recall how I begged him to relent, how I was willing to take his cock inside me anywhere, and how I might die if I didn't.

I nibble on my lower lip. Betsy is waiting expectantly, and I have a strange feeling she wants to say something more. "What is it?"

She shrugs. "Well, just so you know, there are always hussies hanging around trying to get their hands on the competitors, offering all manner of saucy favors. You don't want anyone poaching your claim."

My mind races from outrage to devastation at the thought of another lass setting her sights on Callum. "Yes," I blurt out. "I want to go."

"Good," she says. "I have a mind to keep an eye on his pa, too. Those lasses are shameless. Also, I have it on good authority that a certain Master Gray will be in attendance."

And just like that, I face a dilemma for, while I already know Callum holds a place in my heart, the mysterious wolf shifter with bright blue eyes has also been on my mind.