“I need a place to stay while I get my feet under me. I’ll pay my room and board—no arguments. You’ve always had a place for me before, I do hope nothing has changed.”
Her eyes sparkled in the morning light and she smiled up at me. “Come in, Bors. You should know by now, your money has no value here.” Her words warm me as she tugged me through the front door of the cottage and pointed to a chair at the table.
I sat as Angelica poured me a mug of ale and sliced into a fresh loaf of crusty bread. “So, what brings you back?”
I watched her from my seat at the table, wondering if the answer was still the same as it had been when I woke this morning. I downed the ale and she poured me another while I thought about my response.
“Buy some grazing land, breed and raise horses to build up a livery stable,” I said finally, slathering butter onto a thick slice of bread. After all, I’d need a livelihood to take care of my own. Perhaps more than I’d planned on. “It won’t be easy, but I’ve got some money laid by and can call in some favors if I need them.”
Angelica nodded as she sat down across from me.
“You’ve always had a knack with animals. Horses especially.” She swept breadcrumbs off the old pine table into her hand, tossing them into a wooden bowl by the sink, ready to be thrown for the wild birds later. “And something tells me your fighting days are done. You’ve got the look of a broken man.”
“Broken?” I said around a mouthful of bread, shaking my head.
Angelica shrugged and pursed her lips. “You know what I mean. You look tired, Bors.” She reached over and gave my forearm a squeeze. “In all our years, even when I’ve seen you bruised and bleeding, I’ve never seen this look in your eyes.”
“Aye, working for the clan has lost its lustre. I’ve earned something better. A piece of land to call my own. Some animals. A—” I caught myself before I could utter the word. Wife.
Angelica turned and stared, but I fell silent.
“Something’s changed in you.” Her eye narrowed on mine, staring hard at me for a long moment before she tipped her head to the side and pointed a finger toward me. “You’re keeping something from me.” She stood from the table, then drew a breath through her nose. “Well, horses and animals are all well and good, but they won’t keep you company at night. They won’t see you through the long winter. They won’t fill your house with joy. Plenty of women would be willing. You’re not terribly ugly, after all. In some lights you could almost pass for human,” she said with a wink.
I hesitated. Angelica knew me better than anyone. She smirked as she leaned back against the sideboard and I sighed.
“I want to ask you about someone I saw today in Weschail.”
Angelica feigned nonchalance. “Oh, yes? Someone?”
“A girl.”
She nodded. “Go on.”
How would I even begin to describe her? How the fuck was it even possible to reduce these impulses, these urges, into ordinary words?
“Hair like the loch at mid-night. Eyes like emeralds. Skin like fresh cream. Cherry wine-stained lips so full they…” I trailed off, realizing I was about to slip into a description of things Angelica would most certainly understand, but need not be said.
“Sara,” Angelica said, laughing lightly. “She’s is more than pretty. And good from what I know. I approve.”
It was a beautiful name and it suited her well. “Sara,” I repeated.
Angelica nodded. “Lives out by the old forge with her family. She’s like an angel among them, if you ask me. She’s far too good for their sort. They treat her like a charwoman, a servant. Never heard them say a good word about her. They don’t treat her right.”
I clenched my beer mug in my hand, so hard I damn near crushed it. The idea of her hurting was fucking unacceptable.
“Do they hurt her?”
She shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me. But more than anything, they don’t value her. And that’s its own terrible pain. Take it from me.”
My desire to protect Sara was an animal urge, a simple instinct—a stallion guarding his mare when she went into heat. I wondered, if I left right now, whether I could catch her on the road and steal her away.
I stood, my seat scraping back along the floor, heat rising to my face. My horse was too tired, I’d have to go on foot.
“Bors Macdonald, sit back down. I know what you’re thinking but you’ll scare the poor thing to death in this mood.”
I growled, leaning my fists on the table, trying to regain my composure. She was right, I told myself. Angelica was right. I had to rein myself in.