Page 22 of The Blacksmith’s Wish

Gowan frowned. He looked from her to the grill, then back again, confusion written plainly across his rugged features.

“The fire,” she repeated, as though speaking to someone particularly slow of wit. “It appears to be dying.”

He scratched the back of his neck before turning to inspect the grill. The moment his back was to them, Peigi’s pleasant smile vanished. Her eyes narrowed into icy slits.

“Are ye so pampered that ye dinnae ken how to keep a fire going? Ye’ve been away from the stand, shirking yer duties,” Peigi said with a curled upper lip.

Effie crossed her arms. “I am nae pampered.” Then she shrugged. “Besides, I was nae speaking to ye.” When she turned toward the grill, she could practically feel the woman’s glare burning holes through the back of her dress. After a beat, with an annoyed huff, Peigi rushed away, her body rigid.

The baker and his wife looked on as Gowan inspected the grill and held his hand over it to gauge the heat.

“I am so grateful for this grill,” Beitris’ mother gushed. “Without it, we’d have to tend a fire and walk back and forth to warm the pies.”

Gowan nodded. “I am glad ye find it useful.” He held his palm above the grate a second longer. “The coals are still hot.”

Without another word, he added several pieces of dry wood to the glowing embers. Tiny sparks leapt upward before fresh flames licked around the logs.

He brushed soot from his hands. “It will keep warm for hours.”

The musicians finished one lively tune before launching into another. The sound of fiddles rose above the chatter, drawing couples toward the center of the square. Young men hurried to claim partners before someone else did.

Out of the corner of her eye, Effie noticed Ethan, the cooper’s son, lingering nearby. He’d been watching her. Before he could gather enough courage to approach, Calum appeared from the opposite direction.

Obviously Gowan noticed them because he grunted and then said, “Ye have a choice of whom to dance with.” He frowned down at her. “Why are ye nae dancing?”

For whatever reason, it perturbed her that he didn’t seem one bit bothered that she garnered attention from more than one possible suitor. When his eyes widened, Effie followed his line of sight to see Peigi sauntering back toward them.

“We can rescue each other by dancing.” Effie took his hand and tugged him to the dancing area, the entire time wondering if he’d embarrass her by walking off. Gowan had never once danced at any gathering.

The moment Effie pulled Gowan into the circle of dancers, he came to an abrupt stop. The lively music that had seemed distant from the edge of the square now surrounded them. Fiddles sang while the steady beat of the drum echoed beneath their feet. Couples moved through the familiar steps with practiced ease, skirts swirling, boots striking the packed earth in perfect rhythm.

Gowan looked as though he would rather face a dozen armed warriors. “I should go back to the stall,” he muttered.

Effie tightened her hold on his hand before he could retreat. “Nay.”

His brow furrowed. “Effie…”

“One dance.”

“I have nay danced in years. I have forgotten how.”

She smiled gently. “I doubt it.”

Before he could protest again, the caller raised his voice, and the dancers paired off. Effie slipped both of her hands into his. His were large and rough, the palms hardened from years of hammering hot iron. They nearly engulfed hers.

“Watch me,” she said softly. “The steps repeat.”

The music began again. They stepped forward together. Again Gowan hesitated. His movements were stiff, almost mechanical, his attention fixed on the ground before him as though each step required careful thought.

Effie couldn’t help smiling. “Ye’re watching yer feet.”

“I prefer not to tread upon yers.”

“I’ll forgive ye if ye do.”

“I wouldnae.”

The sincerity in his voice surprised her. He truly feared hurting her. To reassure him, she squeezed his hands. “Look at me instead.”