A Warrior’s Heart by Misty M. Beller

14

Brielle took another step back. “Well.” Her voice trembled, so she swallowed and tried again. “I suppose I’ll be staying with you for the day.”

The awareness sparking between them was already enough to steal her breath. How could she stand a day with him?

Did they really need to guard this man? Hadn’t he proven himself trustworthy, even to the point that he would defend one of their own? Warmth flowed through her again at the thought of what he’d done for Audrey.

Evan was a good man; she knew it with every part of her being. Even though she didn’t know everything about him.

She glanced toward the door. Too bad there wasn’t an outside window so she could see how much of the morning had passed. He would love to spend time in the courtyard.

She turned back to him. “We could go skin the elk I brought in this morning. . . . But it might not be best to take you into the courtyard so soon after what just happened with Gerald.” The others would just be learning of the incident, and Papa might be in the midst of meting out punishment. Better to keep Evan away until things settled.

Evan motioned to her spot at the wall and gave her a grin that stole away all her angst. “Sit and talk to me.” He moved to his fur and sat, settling in.

She did long to learn everything about this man. Not just his intentions toward Laurent or who had sent him, but the things he enjoyed, his childhood stories, every little thing about him. His birthday. She should know when his special day was. She always took effort to make that a pleasant time for her family. How awful if he’d already spent that day locked up in this dark room.

She sank to the stone floor in her usual place against the wall, crossing her legs in front of her as she leaned back against the stone.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.” His voice soothed like honey coating a sore throat, and his gaze said he really cared about what she would say.

“I have a younger sister and brother. Have I told you that?” That’s right, she had mentioned it when she told him of the coming of the Englishmen. She wasn’t very good at this game.

He nodded. “But I haven’t met them. How old are they?”

“Charlotte is ten and six, and Andre ten and two. Charlotte keeps the house, and Andre spends most of his days with my father and uncle doing metal work. They both want to meet you.” She’d commanded in no uncertain terms that her siblings stay far away from this room, but maybe she could bring Evan by the metal shop.

He leaned back and crossed his hands around his knees. “So, you have an uncle here, as well? Any other family? Aunts, cousins, grandparents?”

She shook her head. “We’re all family in Laurent, but I don’t have any others like you mean.”

As good as his interest felt, there was so much she wanted to learn about him. “What of you? You spoke of your brother and your parents. What of other family? Aunts, cousins, grandparents?” She echoed his own words, and it drew a smile from him.

Then a distant look came into his eyes. “I think I have some cousins in Scotland, but I haven’t kept correspondence with them.” He glanced at her wryly. “I wasn’t much for letter writing when I first came to America. I think I may have sent one note to say I arrived safely.”

“So, you don’t spend your time writing letters. What do you do for pleasure? Other than exploring, that is. Do you play an instrument? Are you a great storyteller?”

He chuckled. “I’m not a great storyteller, although I like to hear a good tale. I remember my father used to sing us songs that told stories.” His brow furrowed. “I wish I could remember some of them. There was one about a ship sailing to see a dragon, but I can’t recall anything else. Not even the tune.” Sadness cloaked his eyes, but then he seemed to make an effort to pull out of his thoughts. “I have a mouth harp, but I’m not very good at playing it.”

“You have it with you?” She couldn’t deny a yearning to know what was out there in the rest of the world. There must be so much that they didn’t know about, being hidden away in Laurent as they were. She loved this village, loved her home and everything about their life—mostly. But . . . what might they be missing out on?

“In one of my packs. Does anyone here play?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never even heard of such a thing. A mouth harp, I mean, I’ve seen sketches of other harps. But we don’t have anything like that here. How big is your mouth harp?” It couldn’t be large. She’d looked through his packs after Papa did but hadn’t seen anything that looked like a musical instrument. There were a few items she’d not known, but all were fairly small.

He held up his hand, palm facing up. “A little longer than my fingers. I wasn’t lying when I said I’m not good at it, but it would be nice to pass the time with something to do.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “The days get long.”

She gave him a sad smile. “I hope we can get you outside more. Once things settle down.”

The warmth in his eyes soaked all the way through her. “I understand.”

His gaze said he didn’t blame her for the way she’d treated him. Maybe if he looked at her that way long enough, she could let go of some of her guilt. She didn’t regret putting Laurent’s safety first, but she did regret treating this man like a criminal and shooting an arrow into his flesh. Not that she would change her past actions if she could . . .

Time to direct the conversation to a lighter topic. “Tell me, when is your special day? The day of your birth.”

His brows rose. “My birthday?” The question seemed to flummox him.

She nodded, hooking her teeth on her lip to tether her smile.

“The sixteenth day of February. Why?” He seemed truly confused. Maybe he thought she still harbored animosity toward him. Or maybe they didn’t celebrate birthdays where he’d come from.

She gave him a secretive smile. “We try to make special days special around here.” No need to say more.

“Hmm.” His brows formed a line as he concentrated. “When is your special day?”

“The sixth of May.” Would Evan still be here? She couldn’t think that far into the future. So many things might happen before then. In truth, she still didn’t fully know why he’d come to this area. And the council’s vote loomed closer . . .

A needle of warning wove through her chest, but she pushed it away. She would address those concerns later. For now, she wanted to know why he was looking at her with such curiosity.

“So, what does Laurent do to make the sixth of May special for you?” He tipped his head as he waited for her response.

Memories flooded her mind. Her mother had been the chief planner for her youngest birthdays, taking delight in each surprise and plotting gifts Brielle still treasured. Brielle had taken over that planning for Charlotte and Andre, along with Papa’s help.

She shrugged but couldn’t help a smile. “No more than what we do for everyone.” Traditions had grown throughout the years, spreading through most of the families in the village. “Once, on my father’s birthday, we made five dozen of Father’s favorite fruit pastries and hid them all over our home and his workshop. He ate so much I think he grew sick, but he never said so.” The pleasure on his face still sent a warmth through her. Papa wasn’t often affectionate, but he’d wrapped her in a warm hug and kissed her forehead. She could still remember the shelter of that hold.

“I can see why he liked that.” Evan’s eyes lit in a way that made her want to draw closer. Maybe she shouldn’t have told him that story. Perhaps she and Audrey could have done the same for him when his day came. He certainly possessed an affinity for Audrey’s rolls drizzled with honey.

“Who’s the we?”

She studied him, trying to make sense of the question.

He must have read her confusion. “You said we made his favorite pastry. You and your sister?”

She nodded. “And Audrey. My baked goods tend to come out scorched, but Audrey can manage them with perfection.” Only one of the many things Audrey excelled at. If the woman wasn’t such a dear, kind soul, Brielle might struggle to keep her jealousy at bay. But her friend had been a light during some of the Durand family’s darkest times.

Evan leaned forward. “That reminds me, I was telling Philip about the cookstoves we have back in America. It’s a large metal box that you build a fire inside. The surface on top helps spread the heat more evenly for cooking and baking. If your father does metal work, it shouldn’t be hard for him. I could sketch it if you have ink or charcoal and paper. There’s a pencil in my pack you can bring me.”

She had no idea what a pencil was, probably one of those things she’d not recognized from his supplies. But the idea of building something to help with cooking was an excellent one.

If this cookstove spread the heat evenly enough, perhaps even she could manage a decent meal with it. Not that the thought of bending over a cook fire added to her eagerness in any way. But she did sometimes envy Audrey’s abilities. Charlotte had even surpassed Brielle’s skill with food long ago.

It just had never seemed to matter whether she could cook. There hadn’t been anyone to impress with her abilities. No man had ever sparked her interest enough to wonder what it would be like to cook for him. If she could make rolls as light and fluffy as Audrey’s, how would it feel to receive the appreciation he gave her friend?

But she shouldn’t think that way. For now, best to focus on Evan’s offer. “I’ll bring your packs. We have ink and parchment, too.” The paper was hard to come by, so she almost never used it. Maybe she should find a flat rock for him to sketch on. As long as they could carry the stone to the place where they would build this creation, which should probably be placed in Audrey’s apartment.

A pain pressed her chest. This would be a special gift for Audrey. It seemed like many of Evan’s gifts were directed toward her friend. Yet how could she be jealous? Audrey deserved this, and Evan was kind to offer his knowledge. After all, if she had heard what Gerald said of her, she would be hurt.

A footstep sounded in the hallway. That was Audrey’s tread, and the soft knock confirmed it. The bar clanged as Audrey lifted it, then her face appeared in the open doorway.

Brielle pushed to her feet and stepped toward her friend, watching for signs of embarrassment or pain from the things Gerald had said.

Audrey’s smile held a tinge of sadness as she stepped into the room, but her voice possessed its normal cheeriness. “I came to see if you need anything.” Her gaze swung between her and Evan, then returned to Brielle. “I know you weren’t exactly planning to be here today.”

Maybe this could be her chance to get Evan’s packs. The council had commanded he be kept with a guard at all times, so she couldn’t leave him alone in the room, even if she felt certain he wouldn’t escape. But it would be fine for Audrey to stay with him, just for a few moments.

“I do need to get something. Can you wait until I return?”

Audrey’s eyes widened and her words came hesitantly. “Of course.”

Brielle worked to hold in her grin as she shot a glance at Evan. “I’ll be right back.”

The packs were still heaped against the wall in Brielle’s family’s apartment where she’d left them. She pulled out the two knives and laid them with the musket, then draped the larger satchel over her shoulder and gripped the other in her hand. She scooped up a quill and ink and a flat rock her brother had found, then headed back to the storage room.

When she arrived, Audrey was telling Evan about the clouds that looked like they would bring snow before the day’s end. A safe topic, given all that had occurred that morning, but the thought of more snow rarely brought Brielle pleasure.

The winter months would be on them in earnest soon, bringing darkness and a cold so fierce that none of them would be truly warm again until spring came.

Evan’s gaze turned on her the moment she stepped into the room, and the smile that played in his eyes washed away thoughts of winter.

“Well.” Audrey pressed her hands to her hips. “If there’s nothing else you need, I should go check the stew.”

Brielle sent her friend a nod. “Thank you. Evan told me about a metal box we can build to make your cooking easier.” She motioned to the items she carried. “He’s going to sketch an image of it.”

Audrey’s eyes brightened. “Wonderful.” She sent them both a beaming smile, then slipped from the room.