Page 6 of The Blacksmith’s Wish

The table still bore the remnants of it, bowls scraped clean of rich lamb stew, the lingering scent of herbs and slow-cooked meat clinging to the warm air. Freshly baked bread, slathered in butter that had melted into every soft crevice, had been passed around more times than Gowan could count. His stomach was quite full considering Fiona McRay had refilled his bowl twice.

“Ye are nae married,” she’d said with a knowing look, her gaze flicking between him and Effie, “and I am certain ye dinnae eat as ye should.”

Effie had rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, though the faint bloom of color in her cheeks betrayed her.

“I can stay in the barn,” Gowan offered now, setting aside his empty cup. “The nights are nae so cold anymore.”

With no extra space in the cottage, Thom agreed, though not without a reluctant grunt. It was not the first time Gowan had slept in the loft above the stable, and truth be told, he preferred it to the closeness of too many walls.

Later, the two men sat with their whiskey, the fire burning low, casting a steady glow across the room. Silence settled between them, comfortable and unforced. It was something Gowan had always appreciated about Thom, the lack of need for idle words. In many ways, being in his presence felt like sitting beside his father once more. Thom and his father had been good friends, confidants even.

“Ye move as if fully recovered,” Thom said at last, breaking the quiet. “When ye rounded up that mule there was nae hesitation in ye. No favoring one side or the other.”

Gowan stared into the amber liquid in his cup before answering. “There will always be tightness,” he admitted. “But the pain… has eased.”

He did not often speak of it. Of the burns and the long, agonizing weeks that had followed. But Thom had seen it—had seen all of it—and never once had he looked upon Gowan with pity or revulsion. The older man had been there when even the simplest tasks had seemed insurmountable. Had stood steady while Gowan fought through pain so sharp it had stolen his breath and pride alike. Even those times when the only thing he could do was moan as unimaginable pain had tormented him, Thom had held his hand and sang songs of old in a low steady tone.

“I am glad to hear it,” Thom said, meeting his gaze. “A man such as yerself has many years ahead. Much yet to live for.” He rose with a quiet groan, stretching his back. “I best seek my bed. Morning will come quick enough.”

Gowan nodded and stood as well, finishing the last of his whiskey before making his way out into the cool night air.

The barn greeted him with the soft rustle of hay and the low familiar sounds of animals settling for the night. A few shifted at his entrance, hooves scraping lightly against the packed earth. The mule’s head appeared over the stall door, ears twitching as it regarded him with what could only be called suspicion, or perhaps amusement.

“Gowan.”

He started at the sound, turning sharply. He had not expected anyone to follow.

Effie stood in the doorway, a bundle of blankets gathered in her arms. The fading light from outside framed her in shadow.

“I have been calling to ye,” she scolded, though there was no real bite to it. “Yer thoughts must be far away indeed.”

She paused, studying him for a moment, her expression softer than he’d ever seen it. “Mother insisted I bring ye clean bedding. And Father said to tell ye the lantern is full.”

Gowan reached for the lantern. The flame flickered, then steadied, casting a warm glow between them. Light brushed over Effie’s features, illuminating the gentle curve of her cheek, the fine line of her nose, while shadows deepened around her lips and lashes, making them all the more striking.

He cleared his throat and looked away, unsettled by the way the sight lingered in his mind. “Tell yer mother I am grateful.”

He reached for the blankets, but she didn’t move. Instead, she remained where she stood, her gaze drifting about the barn as though searching for something unseen.

“Is there something else?” he asked, brow furrowing.

“No.” She shook her head, though she still did not immediately leave. “Sleep well,” she said at last. She turned, taking a step towards the door.

“Wait.” The word left him before he could stop it.

Effie paused and looked back at him, one brow lifting slightly in question. The lantern light caught in her green eyes, making them seem almost luminous.

Gowan hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself. What had possessed him to stop her?

“I… was wondering…” He grimaced inwardly. “Do ye… and Calum… are ye courting?” The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Effie blinked and then laughed. A full, unrestrained sound that filled the barn and seemed to startle the animals into stillness.

“Nae,” she said, still smiling. “I am nae courting with him…or anyone.” Her gaze sharpened as she stepped a fraction closer. “And when I do marry, it will nae be to a man like him.”

She tilted her head, studying him now with a look that made something in his chest tighten. “Or like ye.”

There was mischief in her eyes, but something else, something he could not quite name.