Page 37 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
“I thought perhaps Mr. Turtle might like a friend.”
Elspeth gasped, both hands flying to her mouth before she grabbed it eagerly. “It’s him! It looks just like him!”
Morag leaned in with squinted eyes, nodding with approval. “Aye, that’s pretty good.”
Sorcha felt herself blush slightly as she gave a nervous laugh. “I’m glad ye like it. Ye can wear it as a necklace, ye ken!”
“I can?” Elspeth asked excitedly.
Morag gently took both ends of the cord and secured it around Elspeth’s neck.
“There ye go,” she said, tapping the small carving. “Now, what do ye say?”
Elspeth looked at it in awe, turning it in her small fingers. “I do love it, truly! Thank ye very much, Lady Sorcha.”
Sorcha stared at the carving. The warmth she had felt moments ago melted into melancholy. She could not put Rowan out of her mind, not even for a second, burying any happiness that tried to blossom.
“I want to show Mr. Turtle’s family me new necklace! Come on, Mr. Turtle!” Elspeth reached for her turtle.
Morag stopped her. “Nay, me Lady. Ye havenae even finished yer food yet!”
Sorcha looked down at the food on the table. There was bread and an assortment of cheeses that otherwise would have looked appetizing if not for her mood. But Morag’s tone made her scoop a helping anyway.
“But he waited all night! It’s been too long,” Elspeth whined.
Her words hit harder than they should have.
Sorcha’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. She’d done the same. Waited all night in the dark for footsteps that had never come.
“Turtles arenae rushin’ anywhere. That isnae what turtles do,” she said matter-of-factly as Elspeth pouted.
“Ye ken, Lady Elspeth,” Morag added, gently taking the carving between her fingers. “Ye can learn a thing or two from turtles.”
Elspeth tilted her head. “Like how to swim?”
A small laugh escaped Sorcha before she could stop it. Morag’s mouth twitched.
“Like takin’ yer time,” Sorcha corrected. “Ye’ll never see one rush headlong into trouble. They move slowly, but they get to where they’re going all the same.”
Elspeth shifted on the bench, frowning. “But if I didnae help Mr. Turtle, he’d take forever to get to the pond. He’s so slow!”
“Aye,” Morag agreed. “Slow keeps them safe. A fast creature can lose its way easily. A slow one chooses every step.”
Sorcha tried to keep up with the conversation, but her mind drifted elsewhere, mulling over Morag’s words.
Safe. Was that what I’d been doing all these years?
Moving Carefully. Speaking carefully. Waiting where she was placed, trusting that stillness would protect her from harm. And yet here she was, waiting again.
Waitin’ has never saved me from anythin’.
Her gaze dropped briefly to the wooden turtle resting against Elspeth’s chest. She had spent many careful hours carving it, each small stroke of her knife deliberate. Patient.
But there is wisdom in patience.
“Patience is strength,” Sorcha said.
“Is it?” Elspeth asked.
