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)
And yet, what unsettled Raff most was the way people acknowledged him.
A man carrying a stack of firewood nodded in his direction. A woman walking by with a bundle of herbs smiled kindly at him. Another called out a casual greeting to Ingrid and included him as if he were no stranger at all.
He had spent the last year as a ghost. No one had recognized him. No one had spared him more than a passing glance. But here…
Here, they saw him.
His unease must have shown, for Ingrid glanced at him as they reached the steps of a modest cottage with a thatched roof.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
Raff hesitated. He had no explanation for what was happening, and voicing his suspicions would sound foolish.
“Nay, I can see to your horse for you,” he offered to avoid any unwanted questions.
“I appreciated the offer, but my Tilly can be fussy with a stranger.”
Raff turned to see the horse nudging a stocky, broad-shouldered man.
“I’m Latham, and you’d be?” the man asked with a cautious smile.
Ingrid made the introductions. “This is Raff, Latham. He came to my assistance when a group of Laird Chafton’s warriors demanded my basket of wool. He dispatched them quite hastily and, Raff,” she said turning to him. “This is Latham. He keeps our fields plentiful.”
Raff nodded. “Good to meet you, Latham.”
“And it is good to meet you as well, Raff, and I am grateful to hear you helped Ingrid. Laird Chafton’s men enjoy threatening us and the laird himself makes endless demands on us.”
“I have offered him a good hearty meal for his help before he goes on his way,” Ingrid said.
“We could use a good man like you in the village, strong and fearless,” Latham said. “Maybe you’d like to stay awhile. Winter’s not far off. You’d have shelter and food here. Think about it, Raff. Now I need to tend to Tilly.”
Latham walked off, people halting his steps as he went, and Raff saw by the way they cast quick glances his way that they were asking about him.
Raff was shocked that the man had not only acknowledged him but also took time to speak with him and invited him to remain here. And that other people were curious about him, startled him even more. What about this place was different? Why was he seen here yet no place else?
Raff breathed in the scent of fresh bread and dried lavender as he followed Ingrid into the small cottage. A sturdy wooden table sat at the center, surrounded by chairs that bore the marks of years of use. Shelves lined the walls, filled with earthenware, bundles of herbs, and neatly folded linens. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering light across the earth floor.
Ingrid set her basket down and moved to stir the pot hanging over the flames. “I hope you don’t mind rabbit stew,” she said. “It’s hearty enough to fill the belly.”
Raff leaned against the closed door, arms crossed. “After a year of eating whatever I could scavenge, I won’t be complaining.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder, wondering about his features mostly hidden by his hair and beard that needed trimming.
“A year of wandering. That’s a long time to have been without a place to call home.”
He didn’t answer, annoyed that he hadn’t minded his words. How did he explain his granted wish had turned into a curse?
Instead, he watched as she worked, her movements quick and sure. It was easy to see that she was a woman accustomed to doing things herself, not relying on anyone. And yet, there was a warmth in her and an openness that attracted him. She was also beautiful. Her dark hair flowed in soft waves over her shoulders and onto her ample chest. She had the fairest complexion and the loveliest green eyes that brightened with her smile.
Raff had been with women before and had seen desire spark in their eyes when they looked at him. But Ingrid… she did not spare him a second glance beyond polite conversation. No lingering gaze, no sign that she found him handsome or intriguing.
In a way, he remained invisible. And of all the things he had lost in the past year, this was the most unexpected. He never knew how unwanted and lonely it made one feel to not have a single woman show even a bit of interest in him.
He shook off the thought as she stirred the pot in thoughtful silence before finally saying, “Latham is right about Laird Chafton making endless demands on us, more so of late.”
Raff straightened. “The man whose warriors tried to take your wool?”
She nodded, her lips pressing tight for a moment in hesitation, wondering if she should guard her words, since he was a stranger and yet he had helped her. So, what was there to fear about him?