Page 40 of The Blacksmith’s Wish

She laughed softly. “Aye, ye shameless creature. Ye ken exactly why I’ve come.”

Truth be told, the stubborn beast was terribly spoiled. She had indulged him from the day he’d come to the mill as an awkward young colt, and now he expected treats almost as often as he expected water. It was little wonder he’d behaved so disgracefully during their trip to the village. Whenever mischief he found, forgiveness soon followed.

The mule nudged her shoulder impatiently. “Have a care,” she scolded, though without any true conviction. “One at a time.”

A familiar voice drifted from behind her. “That animal needs a stronger hand than yers.”

Her father emerged from the mill, wiping flour from his hands before planting them upon his hips. Though his expression carried its usual sternness, amusement glimmered beneath it. “If he escapes again,” he declared, “I’ll sell him to the butcher.”

Effie looked over her shoulder, unable to suppress a grin. “Nay, ye will not.”

She arched a brow. “Did he get out again?”

“Aye.” He sighed dramatically. “Found the rascal down by the creek before sunrise. Took nearly half a basket of oats to coax him home, and now here ye are rewarding him for it.”

Effie stroked the mule’s velvet-soft nose as he greedily crunched another carrot, entirely unapologetic. “What are we ever to do with ye?” she murmured.

The animal answered by rooting enthusiastically through the pockets of her apron, convinced another treat must surely be hidden there.

Her father chuckled beneath his breath before turning back toward the mill. “I’ve no doubt ye’ll spoil him until he’s too fat to walk.”

“Then he’ll no longer run away.” Still smiling, Effie lingered a moment longer, scratching behind the mule’s ears before making her way toward the cottage.

The quiet of the morning left far too much room for her thoughts. They drifted, as they had countless times throughout the night, to Gowan. The memory returned so vividly it stole her breath.

She could still feel the comforting weight of his body shielding hers, the rough strength in his arms, and the warmth radiating from his skin despite the cool evening air. She remembered threading her fingers through the thick waves of his dark hair, marveling at how impossibly soft it had felt beneath her touch. His kisses had lingered long after they parted, as though they had branded upon her skin.

For those precious moments, the world beyond them had simply ceased to exist. There had been no clan, no village, no expectations. Only the two of them.

She had never imagined that merely being held by someone could make her feel so utterly cherished. The memory filled her with a warmth that settled deep within her chest.

Then, like a cloud drifting across the sun, uncertainty crept in. Had the moment meant as much to him? Or had it simply been born of proximity and longing? A stolen occurrence that would soon fade from his thoughts while she continued to treasure every heartbeat of it?

She slowed her steps. Surely it had been more. Effie refused to believe the tenderness she’d seen in his eyes had been imagined. Gowan was not a man given to false affection or idle flirtation. Every glance, every careful touch, every second of their intimate moments, carried a genuineness that made her heart ache.

No. There had been something deeper growing between them for months now. She felt it every time they stood together. Surely he did as well. Still, there was nothing she could do.

No excuse presented itself to venture into Tokavaig. There were no errands awaiting her, no baskets needing delivery, no reason at all to appear outside the blacksmith’s forge hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

Besides, Liam and Beitris were arriving later today to spend several days at the mill. The house would soon be bustling with conversation and laughter, leaving little opportunity to steal away.

Perhaps that was for the best. Distance might reveal what nearness had only begun to uncover. If what she and Gowan shared reached beyond the sweetness of a single stolen moment… beyond the intoxicating pull of desire… then time would not diminish it.

And if fate truly intended their hearts to beat as one, as every hopeful corner of her soul believed, then neither silence nor distance could keep them apart for long.

By the time Liam and Beitris arrived later that afternoon, Effie’s thoughts of Gowan had been pushed aside by something equally capable of stealing her heart.

Her nephew.

The moment Beitris placed the tiny bundle into her waiting arms, the rest of the world seemed to melt away. “Oh…” she whispered, hardly daring to breathe.

Tiny bairn, Padriag, blinked up at her with sleepy blue eyes before letting out the tiniest sigh. His impossibly small fingers curled around one of hers with surprising strength, and her heart squeezed so tightly it almost hurt.

“He kens exactly how to capture a lass’s heart,” she murmured.

She settled into a chair near the window, cradling him carefully against her breast as she gently rocked back and forth. Soft afternoon light spilled through the shutters, bathing the babe’s downy fair hair in a warm golden glow. His sweet scent, a mixture of fresh milk, lavender soap, and something uniquely newborn, made her smile until her cheeks ached.

Without thinking, she began singing one of the lullabies her own mother had sung when she and Liam were children. Her voice floated softly through the cottage, quiet enough that only the babe nestled against her could truly hear.