heart.”
“Wheest,” Nellore said as she turned pleading eyes to her friend.
“I won’t say a word,” Mary said. “I won’t have to. Your eyes will do all the talking.”
“Wheest, Mary. I beg ye.” She took a few deep breaths, hoping to rid her face of the blush her friend’s words had brought to her cheeks.
Garik pulled beside them with the wagon. The sun glinted off his long, black hair. She admired how his black leather jerkin strained to cover the wide breadth of his shoulders.
“Shall I take you home in comfort?” he asked Mary.
The musical way he spoke struck Nellore to the core. God above, he was a gorgeous man.
He swept his hand out, ushering their gazes to behold the bed of the carriage. The rough-hewn wood lay hidden beneath a thick blanket.
Mary smiled as she greedily eyed the wagon bed. “’Tis good of ye. This is one kindness I am very happy to accept.”
As Mary strode past Nellore she whispered, “I saw ye drinking your fill when he pulled up just now.” Nellore blushed and urged her friend to be silent.
Garik hopped down and offered a hand to Mary. With a sigh, she settled herself on the blanket. Once situated, she reached out for Maggie and the two snuggled down together. Nellore smiled at her contented-looking friend, knowing it was likely the first time Mary had been off her feet all day. Five years her senior, Mary had wed her childhood sweetheart at the tender age of fifteen. Both she and Gordon were children of cottars and had grown up together in the valley. Now they had two children and another on the way and a home filled with warmth and happiness and plenty of noise—at least when they all enjoyed good health. Nellore worried over Gordon’s condition and dreaded to think of Mary’s heartbreak if he did not recover.
A shadow suddenly fell upon the resting mother and child, and she knew Garik stood behind her. With a deep breath, she turned. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze, which thrilled her to no end.
“Ye’re very tall.” For pity’s sake, had she actually said that out loud?
A smile tugged at his lips. “So are you,” he said softly.
“I suppose ye should be getting Mary home,” she said.
He nodded. “Would you join me for the ride?”
A nervous knot lodged in her throat, making it impossible for her to accept his invitation, but just as she was working up the courage to tell him that she would love nothing more a voice called out her name. She turned to find her mother waving her over. “’Tis time to return home,” Brenna said.
She turned back to face him. “I have to go,” she said before stepping away, but he grabbed her arm and whirled her back to face. She waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. He only smiled while his gaze passed over her entirety with slow deliberation. His hand then loosened and slowly traveled the length of her arm all the way down until just their fingertips touched and then like a whisper his touch was gone, yet her heart still pounded with yearning.
Chapter 7
With a mortar and pestle, Nellore mashed a heap of blaeberries that would be added to the batch of blue dye Brenna stirred over the pit fire. They labored in preparation for the sheep shearing that would commence in the morning. Nellore tried to keep her mind on the task at hand, but images of Garik crept into her thoughts, and suddenly her hands ceased mashing while fantasy took over.
“Nellore, lass,” Brenna said as she reached up to stroke her fingers down Nellore’s cheek. “What am I to do with ye? Ye were daydreaming. Tell me ye weren’t dreaming of heading off to battle again.”
“Nay, mum,” she said, flashing Brenna a smile. “Ye ken I’ve put that fancy to rest.”
Brenna wrapped her arms around her daughter. “Your valor does not go to waste. ‘Tis used each and every day that ye care for this family and your clan.”
She nodded, beaming down at her mother, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I love ye, mum,”
“Wheest,” Nellore said as she turned pleading eyes to her friend.
“I won’t say a word,” Mary said. “I won’t have to. Your eyes will do all the talking.”
“Wheest, Mary. I beg ye.” She took a few deep breaths, hoping to rid her face of the blush her friend’s words had brought to her cheeks.
Garik pulled beside them with the wagon. The sun glinted off his long, black hair. She admired how his black leather jerkin strained to cover the wide breadth of his shoulders.
“Shall I take you home in comfort?” he asked Mary.
The musical way he spoke struck Nellore to the core. God above, he was a gorgeous man.
He swept his hand out, ushering their gazes to behold the bed of the carriage. The rough-hewn wood lay hidden beneath a thick blanket.
Mary smiled as she greedily eyed the wagon bed. “’Tis good of ye. This is one kindness I am very happy to accept.”
As Mary strode past Nellore she whispered, “I saw ye drinking your fill when he pulled up just now.” Nellore blushed and urged her friend to be silent.
Garik hopped down and offered a hand to Mary. With a sigh, she settled herself on the blanket. Once situated, she reached out for Maggie and the two snuggled down together. Nellore smiled at her contented-looking friend, knowing it was likely the first time Mary had been off her feet all day. Five years her senior, Mary had wed her childhood sweetheart at the tender age of fifteen. Both she and Gordon were children of cottars and had grown up together in the valley. Now they had two children and another on the way and a home filled with warmth and happiness and plenty of noise—at least when they all enjoyed good health. Nellore worried over Gordon’s condition and dreaded to think of Mary’s heartbreak if he did not recover.
A shadow suddenly fell upon the resting mother and child, and she knew Garik stood behind her. With a deep breath, she turned. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze, which thrilled her to no end.
“Ye’re very tall.” For pity’s sake, had she actually said that out loud?
A smile tugged at his lips. “So are you,” he said softly.
“I suppose ye should be getting Mary home,” she said.
He nodded. “Would you join me for the ride?”
A nervous knot lodged in her throat, making it impossible for her to accept his invitation, but just as she was working up the courage to tell him that she would love nothing more a voice called out her name. She turned to find her mother waving her over. “’Tis time to return home,” Brenna said.
She turned back to face him. “I have to go,” she said before stepping away, but he grabbed her arm and whirled her back to face. She waited for him to speak, but he said nothing. He only smiled while his gaze passed over her entirety with slow deliberation. His hand then loosened and slowly traveled the length of her arm all the way down until just their fingertips touched and then like a whisper his touch was gone, yet her heart still pounded with yearning.
Chapter 7
With a mortar and pestle, Nellore mashed a heap of blaeberries that would be added to the batch of blue dye Brenna stirred over the pit fire. They labored in preparation for the sheep shearing that would commence in the morning. Nellore tried to keep her mind on the task at hand, but images of Garik crept into her thoughts, and suddenly her hands ceased mashing while fantasy took over.
“Nellore, lass,” Brenna said as she reached up to stroke her fingers down Nellore’s cheek. “What am I to do with ye? Ye were daydreaming. Tell me ye weren’t dreaming of heading off to battle again.”
“Nay, mum,” she said, flashing Brenna a smile. “Ye ken I’ve put that fancy to rest.”
Brenna wrapped her arms around her daughter. “Your valor does not go to waste. ‘Tis used each and every day that ye care for this family and your clan.”
She nodded, beaming down at her mother, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I love ye, mum,”
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