Page 42 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
She smiled as he approached, pointing toward the rocks. “Da, look! They’re all there!”
Rowan crouched beside her, watching as the turtle climbed onto the largest one of them. The mother, Elspeth had pointedout earlier. He turned back toward her, and that was when he noticed the small pendant around her neck.
He reached for it, grasping it gently between his fingers. He ran his thumb over the carving, feeling its texture. A turtle, he realized.
“What’s this?”
Elspeth followed his gaze, smiling widely as she realized what he was speaking about. “Lady Sorcha made it,” she said proudly. “It’s Mr. Turtle.”
Rowan admired the clean lines. Though simple in design, they were carefully intended. Unexpected.
He released the pendant slowly, his eyes lingering on its design. He had not taken his wife for someone who worked with her hands in such a way. There had been nothing in her manner to suggest it.
There was more to her than he had accounted for.
Of course, there was. He’d hardly made the time to get to know her, after all.
“I used to carve,” he said before he could stop himself.
The words felt strange on his tongue. It was not something he spoke of often, if at all. He had not thought of it in years.
“Ye did?” Elspeth asked, her full attention focused on him now instead of the turtles.
“Aye.”
“What did ye make?”
He hesitated for a moment, his chest tightening as the memories rose to the surface. “Small things. Figures. Animals. Whatever I had the patience for.”
“I want to see,” she said at once.
He looked pensively across the pond, watching Mr. Turtle’s siblings lie about the rocks, reminding him of his own family. “There’s nothin’ to see now.”
“Can ye carve me somethin’ one day?” Elspeth asked.
Rowan glanced back at her, caught slightly off guard by her request.
“Maybe,” he said after a moment. “When I have the time.”
Her face brightened at once. “Tomorrow?”
He laughed quietly at her impatience. “It doesnae work that way.”
Elspeth frowned. “Why nae?”
“Because it takes time,” he said, his voice steadier now. “Ye daenae rush things like that, or else they turn out wrong.”
She seemed to consider that carefully, her eyebrows drawing together. She looked like she was going to question him further, but then she looked down at the pendant, her fingers brushing over it.
“Lady Sorcha says patience is strength,” she murmured.
He went still. The words settled deep inside him, heavier than they should have. “Does she now?”
“Aye. She says it means ye can wait without being afraid. So I’ll wait, Da.”
His thoughts drifted back to last night. To how he had told Sorcha he would come for her. His breath caught halfway through his chest, as though his body had forgotten how to expel it.
He could picture it so easily, how Sorcha would have composed herself and simply waited for him to come.
