A Warrior’s Heart by Misty M. Beller
16
Brielle motioned for Evan to stand, and he sprang to his feet with one of those half grins that curled inside her and made her own smile so hard to hold back.
She looked away to lessen her struggle.
After she handed a pastry to each of them, Leonard led the way down the corridor, and she stayed beside Evan, eating her own roll as she walked. The space was only wide enough for two people to travel side-by-side.
As they passed one of the apartment doors, Evan pointed to the metalwork decorating the upper corners. “So much detail here. Who made these? I’ve noticed each doorway has something different.”
She gave a closer look at the decorations he pointed to. “Each family does their own, if they choose. My father made these and several of the others.” She couldn’t help the pride in her voice. His abilities were well known in the community. His and Uncle Carter’s, too.
As they continued down the rest of the hall, she gave each doorframe more notice than she usually did. Papa’s handwork stood out above the others, and not just because he loved to include intricate leaf details on each piece. He used so many layers in his detail; each leaf or scroll or vine stood out from the rest.
Evan looked like he wanted to stop and study some of them, but they kept walking. Better not to allow him special privileges very often.
When Leonard pushed open the outside door, Evan ducked away from the light as he usually did. A fresh twinge of guilt pressed on her. She hated keeping him confined to such a small dark space. Even after they added a fourth torch, the storage room still felt dim and smothering.
Leonard turned to them the moment they stepped outside. “When should I come back for you?”
She glanced toward the milling crowd gathered in the area they used for trading. The exchanges would take a while, as the natives loved to haggle. Even though everyone knew the standard prices her people charged. “An hour or so. Before the noon meal.”
He raised his brows. “Are you certain?”
She nodded. Evan needed fresh air, and she certainly didn’t mind spending time with him. She could work faster at her other duties later.
When Leonard turned toward his home, she slid a glance toward Evan. The corners of his mouth curved up as he met her gaze.
Then he turned his focus to the trading. “What goes on here?”
“One of the tribes come to trade.”
He was silent for a moment while they watched Itchka using wide gestures as he spoke with her uncle and Jeanette. He looked to be telling a story, maybe how hard it was for his people to obtain leaves to make the paper he offered. He tended to exaggerate the worth of his goods when haggling.
“What do they trade?” Intense interest covered Evan’s face as he watched.
“Our people taught the tribes to make paper, quills, candles, and other things. They also bring food other than meat, which we sometimes lack. Our women make herbal lotions and medicines, and some of the men make weapons, especially metalwork.”
He glanced at her, as if seeing her in a different light. Or maybe seeing their village from a new perspective. “Sounds advantageous for both groups.”
She nodded, her mouth twitching as her body craved to respond to his attention.
Then he tipped his head as his eyes took on curiosity. “So, these are the only outsiders who come to Laurent?”
“They are.”
“Have you known these tribes many years? Your people seem to trust them.”
She gave a little shrug. “As far back as I can remember.”
“Does anyone from your village go to their camp? Have you ever been?”
“Sometimes. We usually go in the spring. It’s a nice chance to get out of village walls after so many dark days. But sometimes they come to us first, and we have to find another excuse for a trip.”
He nodded. “I can imagine. How long does it take to get to their village? Is the land different there than here? I don’t suppose they also live in caves.”
She shook her head. “Not caves. Lodges they make out of skins and poles. They’re a lot harder to keep warm and smaller than our caves. It’s about a day and a half to walk there in the snow. Less if you don’t have to wear snowshoes.”
“Are their mountains made of the same kind of rock as you have here? These seem to be a combination of shale and sandstone.”
Perhaps he really had struck out on this journey merely to discover new things. He certainly seemed fascinated with the land and animals, especially those different from what he was accustomed to. She thought back through the land around the Dinee villages. “I think it’s similar. I don’t remember anything different that I haven’t seen here, except maybe a black stone.”
Was that disappointment that flashed through his eyes? He gave a nod of acknowledgment, then shifted his focus back to watch the trading again. The smaller man who traveled with Itchka was speaking to Madame Thayer, while two of the other matrons listened in. She had no doubt Madame Thayer would haggle for the rest of the day until the man accepted what she considered a reasonable price. Unfortunately, her cough syrup was the best around, so the visitor would do well to give what she desired.
Even now, she crossed her arms across her substantial bosom and shook her head. The outsider lifted whatever he held and held it out toward her. She shook her head again.
A chuckle drifted from Evan, and the sound slid all the way through Brielle with a delicious tingle. She glanced sideways at him, then followed his gaze to the native and Madame Thayer.
“She believes in the value of whatever she has to trade.” Evan’s voice rumbled warm, tightening her chest.
She let her own chuckle slip out. “She makes the best elderberry syrup of anyone. All the tribes know it, too. Keeps their sniffles away, no matter how cold the weather turns.”
“Elderberry grows here?” Once again, curiosity marked all his features. She’d never been envious of mountains and plants before, but with as much interest as he showed in them, she was beginning to harbor a bit of jealousy toward God’s creation.
She shook her head. “We have an observatory where we grow plants and herbs for medicine. Those who first settled here brought elderberry, echinacea, and a host of other flora that are good for healing. We grow them in a protected area, with a fire that keeps them from freezing.”
He turned his entire body to face her, his curiosity turning to intrigue. “You don’t say. That must be a lot of work to keep the fire going.”
“I can assure you it is. Our young women are tasked with the job.” She gave him a wry look. “And there’s a substantial punishment if any let the fire go out.”
A twinkle slipped into his gaze. “Did you ever let the fire go out?”
She raised her jaw. “Of course not.”
Smile lines creased the corners of his eyes. “I wouldn’t have thought so. But you weren’t always such a brave, responsible warrior. Were you ever a young girl at any point in your life?”
A sliver of pain rippled through her. “Not since I’ve had a brother and sister to raise.”
The glimmer fled his eyes, leaving no trace they’d ever brought light to his chiseled face. “They were blessed to have you.”
She shrugged. “They were stuck with me, even though my meals were either burned or half raw. I think our father was preparing to take over cooking duties himself when Charlotte finally stepped in. Even at the age of eight, she did a better job than I did. I talked Uncle Carter into taking me hunting with him so I didn’t have to spend so much time indoors.”
His gaze grew earnest. “You excelled where you were gifted. That’s what all people who achieve great things have done. You leaned into your strength and accomplished feats few people would attempt.”
She raised her brows at him, trying not to let the warmth of his words stir the parts of her that longed for them to be true. For as long as she could remember, she’d worked so hard to be seen as strong. Her family and close friends knew her weaknesses and vulnerabilities. But among most of the village—especially the other guards—she’d spent most of her life proving her strength and savviness and wisdom as a leader.
But something in her pushed against his praise. “You haven’t heard enough to know if that’s correct or not.”
He motioned toward her shoulder, where she usually kept a quiver of arrows slung. “You’re a crack shot with that bow and arrow, a fact I can attest to.” His hand moved to the center of his middle. “And you’ve attained the role of leading this entire band of guards and bringing in meat for who knows how many people. All of this as a woman no older than—what? Two and twenty?”
His praise wove through her, seeping around the raw edges of her confidence and shoring them up, soothing the doubt that always plagued her in moments of weakness.
She tried to summon a modicum of fire when he mentioned her gender—she hated when men thought she should defer to them and their abilities simply because she was a woman. But there was no sneer in his tone. Nothing but respect shone in his gaze.
Well, not nothing.
She didn’t dare rely on her ability to read what else shimmered there. Attraction, maybe?
But could there be more? Could anything more exist between them? He came from such a different world. Would he be willing to leave it all for her?
Or would she be willing to leave Laurent for him?
The thought smacked her with a force that made her blink. She’d never considered leaving this place. Not truly. No one left Laurent, not ever. They had everything they needed here. There were enough families within the community to provide matches for those who chose to marry. And those who didn’t, like her uncle, simply didn’t marry. She’d always thought she would follow in her uncle’s steps. But that no longer seemed desirable.
“Brielle?” Evan’s voice broke through her churning thoughts. He touched her arm, and only then did she realize she was swaying. She shifted her feet to better brace herself.
“What is it? You’ve lost three shades of color.” Worry lined his brow.
She forced herself to relax and summon a smile to reassure him. “Nothing. I only . . .” She couldn’t say what she’d been thinking. In truth, she had no reason to think it.
Sure, Evan had sat beside her and shared bits of his life as they went through his packs. But maybe that had only stemmed from his desire to fill the long, dull hours of sitting on a fur in the dark storage room.
Maybe her attraction to him was simply because Evan was an outsider, not one of the men she’d known since they toddled together in infant gowns.
He was still studying her, waiting for her to finish her statement. She shook her head. “I’m well.”
His eyes softened into a look so gentle, she would never have thought a man could manage it. Especially not a man as strong and virile as this one. His thumb on her arm rubbed a soft stroke, and she wanted to drop her hand and let his slide down her arm until their fingers clasped.
But she couldn’t do that out here where all could see. In truth, even this simple touch would draw questions if anyone looked their way.
Evan must have realized that, for he pulled his hand back. Then his gaze slid past her to something over her shoulder. His brows knit as he watched, and the sound of young voices told her what he must be seeing. Widow Cameron would be bringing the children to watch the trading.
She turned to watch the procession and grinned at the sight of the little ones straggling across the courtyard. Marcellus must have come to tell them about the trading party, because he led the way with a boy on either side of him. He loved having news to tell, and he seemed to be adding layers of detail to whatever story he was imparting now, enough to enthrall the lads around him.
She’d always known on some level that Marcellus didn’t think the way she and the others of their age did. He’d always been fanciful and was not always very grounded. Even when they were youngsters playing Leap the Frog and Steal the Falcon, she would abandon her games and lean in like these lads as he spun a wild tale. She finally realized that only half of his stories were based in reality, but the other half were so fascinating, and the tales lingered in her mind for weeks afterward.
He caught sight of her and Evan and paused in what he was saying to wave at them, a grin stretched wide across his face. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled across the courtyard between them. “Evan, come see the trading.” He pointed to the cluster of hagglers against the far wall.
Evan’s chuckle rumbled through her. He raised his hand to wave, then motioned for Marcellus to go on without him. As the youngsters continued their trek, Evan chuckled again. “If ever you’re feeling down, he’s a good one to lift the spirits.”
She let her grin slip out. “He is that.” She’d not grinned half as much before Evan came, which proved he must have that same ability Marcellus possessed to lift spirits. Although in a very different way than Marcellus.
They watched the children scamper across the remainder of the grassy area, two of the youngest ones spinning in circles as they moved forward. Trading days always spread joy through the camp, and the little ones took quickly to the festive atmosphere.
She sent a glance to Evan, and a wistful expression filled his gaze as he watched the children. She’d expected a smile to play at his mouth, not the sadness that turned the corner of his eyes downward.
Did something about the group stir unpleasant memories for him? He’d said he and his wife had no children, but were there some who had been lost? Perhaps he was thinking of his own brother who’d died. Maybe whatever memories these young ones sparked hadn’t been unpleasant at the time, but now raised a longing for what had once been. She wanted desperately to ask him, but that felt like pushing too deep. Not unless he invited her into that place.
“Brielle.” A familiar voice snatched her from her thoughts, and she spun to see Andre sprinting toward them. From anyone else, running would raise her to alarm, but that boy ran everywhere he went. She’d never seen anyone with more energy than her baby brother.
“Papa says we can have a feast and use the big room. He’s invited Itchka and the other man to stay and eat with us.” Andre reached them and doubled over, hands on his knees as he worked to catch his breath. He peered up at her with a toothy grin. “Won’t that be fun?”
Before she could answer, Andre seemed to realize she wasn’t alone. He jerked upright and took a step back, his face sobering as he eyed Evan.
Back when Evan had first arrived and they knew so little about him, she’d warned Charlotte and Andre to stay far away from him. With the awfulness of their mother’s death at the hands of strangers hanging over them all, she had no doubt that both her siblings would heed her direction—at least when it came to a strange Englishman.
Even now, Andre looked like he might turn and dart away. She should ease his angst some. “Andre, this is Evan MacManus, the man I’ve been guarding in the storage room. Evan, my little brother, Andre.” She offered a hint of a smile to show her brother he needn’t fear.
Andre’s round eyes stayed glued on Evan, his expression a mixture of awe and worry. As much as she wanted to protect her brother, she didn’t want him to live in fear. Perhaps they’d placed too much importance on the danger of allowing strangers into Laurent. Of allowing new ideas and new ways of viewing the world into Laurent.
She’d have to ponder that thought later. For now, Evan was reaching a hand in greeting to her brother.
Andre glanced at her for permission to grasp Evan’s in return, and she nodded.
The two shook, one hand large and masculine, and the other the gangly fingers of a half-grown lad. The joining of two worlds. The moment felt momentous, and Andre seemed to grow taller with the act.
When he pulled his hand back, he straightened and notched his chin up. “Are you coming to the feast, too, Monsieur MacManus?”
Evan raised his brows, and they both turned to her for an answer. She sent her gaze toward her father, who stood at the fringes of the trading group. It would be better if he gave permission than if she took it upon herself to bring Evan, even under guard. Maybe this would be her chance to speak to him of her growing trust.
She turned back to Andre and gave a small smile. “Perhaps. We’ll see.”