Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
The square quieted just enough to draw attention.
Sweeny muttered something that might have been an apology, but Raff wasn’t satisfied. “Louder.”
“Forgive my rudeness,” Sweeny snapped, flushed and flustered, before stalking off, muttering curses under his breath.
Raff turned a smile on Ingrid. “He won’t bother you again.”
Two older women approached, one holding a basket of cabbages and turnips, the other with a baby slung across her chest.
“You’ve found yourself a good one,” said the first woman to Ingrid with a sly smile.
“Quick to defend your honor and easy on the eyes,” added the second. “Best hold tight to that one.”
Ingrid flushed, busying herself with refolding a plaid that didn’t need fixing. “He’s just… helping.”
“Of course he is,” one of them said and they both laughed.
As they wandered off, Raff leaned closer, pretending to inspect the display and with a crooked grin said, “Just helping, am I?”
Ingrid lowered her voice. “You do much more and I am grateful.”
His crooked grin vanished. “I’ll always protect you, Ingrid.”
She smiled softly but Raff couldn’t help but see a flare of doubt spark in her eyes.
By mid-afternoon the gray skies replaced the sun and the crowd at the market had thinned, but laughter and the occasional clang of wares still carried on the breeze. Ingrid tied the empty cloth that once held her folded wares and tucked it into the cart.
“All sold,” she said with a breath of disbelief.
“You should double your prices next time,” Raff said. “Folk were nearly fighting over them.”
She shook her head. “It’s not the coin that pleases me the most. It’s knowing they’ll warm someone, comfort, serve a good purpose.”
Raff smiled at her, and it was a gentler smile than she was used to seeing from him. One that lingered a heartbeat longer than it needed to.
They left the cart and strolled back through the rows of remaining vendors. Raff insisted she eat something—proper food, he called it—before they returned home. He bought her a meat pie from a stout woman who winked at them both and muttered something about good matches being hard to find.
They found a low stone wall near the square’s edge and sat there, sharing the pie and a mug of cider between them. Children played nearby, tossing sticks at an imaginary beast, and a fiddler played a lazy tune that matched the winding-down feel of the day.
“You’ve a quiet smile,” Raff said, nudging her knee with his. “What does it mean?”
“That I’ve had a good day,” she said, eyes half-lidded with contentment. “And that I’m glad I didn’t come to market alone.”
He watched her for a moment, the way the autumn breeze played with her hair, sending strands around her lovely face. “I’m glad too.”
Their eyes held, and for a breath, the world hushed—no laughter, no fiddler, no market. Just the two of them in a space where something unspoken lived, warming like embers waiting for the wind.
Before either of them could speak, the spell broke with the passing of two women chattering loudly.
“…they say she’s a witch, hiding among the trees just outside the village. Cursed. Blamed for turning animals sick and the harvest dying before it could be picked.”
“She’s no ordinary witch. A powerful one, they say. And now Clan MacMunn is searching for her and the trouble she brought on their clan.”
The name hit Raff like a fist to the gut. He went utterly still.
Ingrid blinked and turned toward the women, who were now leaning over a stall, bartering for spools of thread as if they hadn’t just thrown a shadow across the day.
She looked back to Raff. His eyes were distant. Not frightened just… pulled somewhere else. Somewhere far.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
Raff’s jaw ticked as he nodded. “All is good.”
Ingrid studied him, but something in his expression told her not to press. Not yet.
The music had faded. The laughter too. Only the soft wind remained, continuing to tug at loose strands of her hair.
He reached over without thinking and brushed one from her cheek, soft to the touch. “We should head home. The gray sky hints at rain and dusk isn’t far off.”
She was reluctant to leave, enjoying this time with him, learning more about him, and finding contentment with him, but she nodded, knowing he was right.
He stood, offering his hand to help her up and something in him just couldn’t resist. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Not a soft kiss but a powerful one as if it might be the last chance he got to do so and he wanted her to remember it, remember him, and he wanted the memory to hold onto.
The kiss had caught her by surprise, but she enjoyed it, was glad for it, but was unsure of why he chose now to kiss her.
As if he read her thoughts, he said, “I had to kiss you, needed to kiss you, have been wanting to.” A whisp of wind caught a stray strand of her hair, depositing it on her cheek and once again he couldn’t resist, though he tucked this one behind her ear. “I just had to kiss you.”