Page 47 of The Blacksmith’s Wish

Straightening her shoulders, she braced herself.

His throat worked as he swallowed. “I have deep feelings for ye, Effie.”

Her breath caught.

“I ken ye may nae feel the same.”

She remained perfectly still, instinctively knowing he wasn’t finished.

“I need ye to understand something.” His voice trembled despite every effort to steady it. “I will never ask ye to choose me out of pity.” His gaze drifted downward. “As ye’ve seen…” His fingers curled helplessly at his sides. “I am a scarred man.”

The words sounded as though they had been carved from him one painful piece at a time. “I ken ye deserve a whole man. One who can stand before the woman he loves without shame. One who does nae hide beneath clothing because he fears what she’ll see.”

He closed his eyes briefly. “I will never be that man.”

Every word struck Effie’s heart harder than the last. Then one sentence echoed above all the rest.

…the woman he loves.

Her heart lurched. “So…” she whispered, unable to stop the smile blooming across her face, “did ye just say ye love me?”

His eyes flew wide. Color flooded his cheeks. “I…” He looked everywhere except at her. The floor. The doorway. A horseshoe hanging on the wall. Anywhere but the woman smiling like the sun itself.

“Aye.” The word barely escaped. Then, with a sigh of surrender, he looked back at her. “I do love ye.”

“I love ye, Effie.”

She didn’t think she just simply moved. Crossing the space between them in hurried strides, she threw herself into his arms with enough force to rock him backward.

“Gowan!” She kissed one cheek and then the other. His brow, his nose, his jaw. Laughing and crying all at once, she covered his face with joyful kisses.

“I love ye too,” she whispered between each one. “I love ye…I love ye…I love ye.”

His arms, hesitant only for the briefest heartbeat, tightened around her until she could scarcely breathe. He buried his face against her hair. Only then did she feel his shoulders tremble.

She pulled back just enough to look at him. Tears streamed unashamedly down his face. Not from pain or from grief, but from the astonishing relief of discovering he’d been loved all along.

Effie smiled through her own tears and brushed his gently from his cheeks. “Ye truly are a daft oaf.”

A watery chuckle escaped him. “Aye.” He rested his forehead against hers. “But I’m yer daft oaf now.”

*

They remained holding one another for a long while, neither seemed willing to be the first to loosen their embrace. Gowan’s arms stayed firmly around her, as though he feared if he released her she would vanish like morning mist beneath the highland sun.

When at last they drew apart, he refused to let go entirely, his rough, calloused fingers entwining with hers.

Effie smiled softly at the gesture. He truly believed she might disappear. The realization made her chest ache with tenderness.

“What happens now?” she asked, suddenly feeling oddly shy. Warmth crept from the collar of her dress to her cheeks as her gaze drifted toward the narrow bed tucked beneath the loft window.

Gowan followed her eyes, then looked back at her so quickly his face flushed nearly the color of the glowing forge.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “Truth be told, I had nae planned to ever get this far.”

A laugh bubbled from her before she could stop it. “The great Gowan Black, defeated by me?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking every bit the awkward lad she’d teased as children rather than the broad-shouldered blacksmith who could bend iron with his bare hands.