Page 19 of The Blacksmith in My Tavern: Tales of Bleakness

“Eh, this is a tall story, and I would not believe it were it anyone but you,” Tim says, his worry lines softening a little. “You mean to go back to your homelands, then?”

“I do,” I say.

“Well, the rebellion will miss you and Callum for sure,” Anders says, coming over to clasp hands with me. “I better be going. I’ve got a ship full of former captives to track down afore they fall into the wrong hands again. And, Tim, if I might be bold enough, I suggest you open up, lest it draw more attention. It’s quiet at this time of day, but your regulars will be arriving soon. The fewer tongues wagging, the better.”

As he strides away, Tim gives Gareth the nod to unbar the front door. “Gods, I’m going to miss that young lass and your Callum,” he says with a sad smile. “Won’t be the same around here, for sure. And it’ll be worse still when you go. Betsy, get Heath what he wants: on the house tonight.”

“I will, Pa,” she says. “Just going to wash my face, and I’ll be right back.”

I miss her as she slips from my arms. She rubs her damp cheeks with the back of her hand and plasters on a weak smile before she hastens off.

The door swings open, bringing a blast of cold air, and three dockworkers hasten in, rubbing hands to ward off the chill as they hang cloaks on the hooks beside the door.

“Cold ‘un tonight, Tim!” one man calls. “We’ll have three pints of Pilkington and a serve each of steak and kidney pie, please!”

“Coming right up,” Tim calls.

I take my favored place at the table to the right of the fire.

The door opens again.

“You are early today,” Tim says, with a good-natured smile as he addresses the carpenter and his apprentice, who join him at the bar.

Gods, I want to soak up the moment and the way easy conversation picks up around me.

By the time Betsy returns, the door has opened thrice, and a dozen patrons are sitting at tables or chatting with Tim at the bar.

I watch her approach, noting that tears still glisten in her eyes. I have been unintentionally careless with the precious gift of a young lass’s heart by announcing I am leaving right off the back of telling her that her dear friend has gone and will never be coming back.

Her presence hits me in a way I have forced myself to ignore before. My thoughts shift to that moment of weakness after I caught her and Ada sneaking beneath the fighting pit.

She is too young, but fuck it. I admit I am as charmed by her ways as I am by her pretty face and smile… and her tits, and her ass, and her mouth when it is stretched around… Somewhere far above, another lass with forest green eyes and shifter blood is smirking with approval at Betsy’s boldness.

“Have a seat, lass,” I say, liberating her of the pint and indicating the chair opposite mine. “You are not so busy, and happen an old man has made a hash of matters.”

“You are not so old,” she says. Her pert chin lifts, and her eyes lose some sorrow, flashing with a little of that fire I love so well.

I set the pint of Pilkington out of the way and take her small hands in mine. It’s fair to say my life has taken plenty of unexpected turns. And I’m hopeful that the lass before me is congenial to taking one more turn, with me.

“Do you want to go with me?”

“Go?” she shakes her head.

“Yes, go to Hydornia With me. Would you consider it?”

I am fucking this up.

“What I’m trying to say badly. Very badly. Is will you marry me?”

“Marry? Go? Oh…” Her face is flushed and her eyes are round.

My heart is pounding out of my chest. After all this, have I read her wrong?

Then she suddenly squeals and launches herself across the table at me, peppering my face with kisses. “Yes, yes, yes! Oh yes.”

A cheer goes up from the patrons. I hear Tim’s booming laugh.

I haul my woman into my arms and hold her tight. “Thank you, Betsy. Thank you for never losing faith in me. Thank you for waiting for me to get my head out of my ass. Thank you for being you, the sweetest, prettiest serving lass in all the lands. I am sorry if I caused you even a moment of sorrow. If you will have me, I should love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life loving you. Nothing would make me happier nor prouder than to call you my wife.”

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