Page 49 of The Blacksmith’s Wish
“Oh, I assure ye I will be.” He grimaced theatrically. “Thom McRay is nae a man to be trifled with.”
She laughed, the sound warming the quiet room. “My father likes ye.”
“He is protective of ye.”
“He likes ye.”
“He’ll like me less after I tell him I’ve stolen his daughter.”
Effie raised an eyebrow. “Stolen?”
“Aye.”
“I walked in here of me own accord.”
“That ye did.”
“And I intend to walk out again.”
He feigned relief. “Thank the saints. I was wondering how I’d explain carrying ye home over me shoulder.”
She swatted his chest. “I’d have bitten ye.”
“I’d likely deserve it.”
She smiled before growing thoughtful. “My father may ask whether ye truly ken what ye’re getting into.”
“I do.”
She chuckled. “He’ll ask if ye can care for a wife.”
“I can.” Gowan studied her face.
Effie pressed a light kiss to his lips. “And if he asks whether ye love me?”
Gowan didn’t hesitate. “I’ll tell him I’ve loved ye far longer than I had the courage to admit.”
Emotion tightened her throat. She reached up, cupping his cheek. “I believe he’ll see the truth in yer eyes before ye ever speak the words.”
He kissed her forehead. “Will ye stand beside me?”
She looked at him as though there could never be another answer. “Always.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, smiling into the silence. For the first time in many years, tomorrow no longer frightened him. He found himself looking forward to it.
Chapter Sixteen
The following morning dawned bright and cool, a thin veil of mist still clinging to the meadow beyond Tokavaig. Gowan had been awake since before first light, though sleep had scarcely visited him at all.
He arrived at the McRay’s home and dismounted.
Twice he’d gone to battle as a forger and had faced charging enemy warriors. He had stood before a roaring forge where molten iron spat sparks hotter than dragon’s breath. He had survived fire that had nearly claimed his life.
Yet none of those things had prepared him for knocking upon Thom McRay’s door.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from his tunic before raising his hand. The knock sounded far louder than he’d intended.
A moment later the door swung inward. Thom McRay filled the doorway, broad-shouldered and standing straight, strength evident despite the silver now threaded through his dark hair. His sharp gray eyes settled on Gowan, lingering just long enough to make him wonder whether turning and running might still be an option.
