Page 50 of The Wolf Laird's Obsession
Nothin’?
She stared at him, something fragile breaking inside her. He had just kissed her, and now he would pretend it meantnothing?
She hastily pushed off the door and turned to leave, unable to speak.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rowan’s voice called out through the rain, “Lift!”
Two clansmen buckled under the weight of the beam, struggling as the rain made the wood slick. Rowan stooped, bracing himself under its center, his own legs protesting as the wood pressed down on his shoulders.
It had been two days since he arrived at the eastern border. He and the men he had brought had been working nonstop to rebuild what had been lost in the fire.
Despite everything they had accomplished, he knew that it would be weeks, perhaps even months, before these ruins felt whole again.
“Hold!” he barked when the timbers hovered in place.
A young man’s boot slipped in the mud, sending him careening toward the ground. Rowan adjusted his footing, catching the beam before the man lost his grip entirely.
“Plant yer feet, lad,” he ordered. “Next time, ye could be crushed.”
“Aye, me Laird,” the young man panted, his eyes wide with embarrassment.
They continued their work without another incident, and by midday, they had managed to shore up three walls and hoist fresh crossbeams over the worst of the wreckage.
Rowan caught sight of Ewan as he strode across the yard, equally covered in mud and soot and rain.
“We’ve managed to raise the southern storehouse enough to cover what grain’s left,” Ewan said, glancing toward the half-framed structure. “It’ll hold for now, if the wind doesnae take it first. The rain isnae makin’ this easy.”
Rowan didn’t look. “It doesnae need to be easy. It needs to stand.”
Ewan huffed, dragging a hand through his wet hair. “Aye, and it might stand better if we waited a day or two. Let the ground settle. Let the men breathe.”
“And leave what’s left to rot?” Rowan shot back.
Ewan’s jaw tightened. “The men are nearly spent.”
Rowan turned then, fixing him with a hard look. “So are the people who lost their homes.”
Ewan held his gaze a moment longer, then gave a short nod. “Aye, I ken.” He jerked his chin toward the half-raised frame. “We’ve got the worst of it standing. Another few days, and the men can see the rest through.”
Rowan didn’t answer. He already knew where this was going.
Ewan glanced at him, his voice dropping slightly. “Ye could ride back tomorrow. Nay one would think less of it.”
Of course, they wouldnae. The work is steady now, the worst of it done. The men can carry the rest without me, but that’s nae the point.
Rowan’s body tensed, his eyes fixed on the half-raised frame ahead.
The keep waited. And maybe Sorcha waited too.
He shut down that unwelcome thought as soon as it entered his mind.
“This is what matters,” he replied too quickly.
A shout suddenly rose from the far side of the ruins. Rowan straightened, Ewan’s concerned gaze meeting his.
“Aye! Me hand—” The voice broke off.
