Page 20 of The Unencumbered Warrior
“You’ve a quiet smile,” Raff said, nudging her knee with his. “What does it mean?”
“That I’ve had a good day,” she said, eyes half-lidded with contentment. “And that I’m glad I didn’t come to market alone.”
He watched her for a moment, the way the autumn breeze played with her hair, sending strands around her lovely face. “I’m glad too.”
Their eyes held, and for a breath, the world hushed—no laughter, no fiddler, no market. Just the two of them in a space where something unspoken lived, warming like embers waiting for the wind.
Before either of them could speak, the spell broke with the passing of two women chattering loudly.
“…they say she’s a witch, hiding among the trees just outside the village. Cursed. Blamed for turning animals sick and the harvest dying before it could be picked.”
“She’s no ordinary witch. A powerful one, they say. And now Clan MacMunn is searching for her and the trouble she brought on their clan.”
The name hit Raff like a fist to the gut. He went utterly still.
Ingrid blinked and turned toward the women, who were now leaning over a stall, bartering for spools of thread as if they hadn’t just thrown a shadow across the day.
She looked back to Raff. His eyes were distant. Not frightened just… pulled somewhere else. Somewhere far.
“Everything all right?” she asked.
Raff’s jaw ticked as he nodded. “All is good.”
Ingrid studied him, but something in his expression told her not to press. Not yet.
The music had faded. The laughter too. Only the soft wind remained, continuing to tug at loose strands of her hair.
He reached over without thinking and brushed one from her cheek, soft to the touch. “We should head home. The gray sky hints at rain and dusk isn’t far off.”
She was reluctant to leave, enjoying this time with him, learning more about him, and finding contentment with him, but she nodded, knowing he was right.
He stood, offering his hand to help her up and something in him just couldn’t resist. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Not a soft kiss but a powerful one as if it might be the last chance he got to do so and he wanted her to remember it, remember him, and he wanted the memory to hold onto.
The kiss had caught her by surprise, but she enjoyed it, was glad for it, but was unsure of why he chose now to kiss her.
As if he read her thoughts, he said, “I had to kiss you, needed to kiss you, have been wanting to.” A whisp of wind caught a stray strand of her hair, depositing it on her cheek and once again he couldn’t resist, though he tucked this one behind her ear. “I just had to kiss you.”
His fingers faintly caressed her cheek, and a quiver of pleasure raced through her. “I didn’t mind.”
He rested his hand against her cheek. “Then you wouldn’t mind if I did again sometime?”
She turned her face slightly into his hand, savoring the roughness and warmth of it against her cool cheek. She could almost feel it leaving his mark on her.
“I wouldn’t mind at all,” she whispered.
A sharp tug in his chest caught him unaware and for a moment his breath stopped. He felt he was alive for the first time since making his foolish wish. And he wanted to feel more, so much more.
He took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and she smiled at him as they walked back toward the cart in silence. Raff cast one last glance over his shoulder, toward the women and their whispers about the witch and…
Clan MacMunn.
His clan. His home. His family.
CHAPTER 10
The scent of woodsmoke mingling with the cool night air greeted Raff as he stepped from his cottage. The chatter of voices drew his attention, and he made his way through the village to the fire pit where news was often shared. Several villagers stood, their faces lit by flickering flames and furrowed with concern. He spotted Ingrid at once—her braid a dark sweep over her shoulder, her stance quiet but firm among them. He didn’t need to hear the talk to know what it was about. Ingrid had shared the rumor they had heard at market about the witch. They had agreed on the journey home that the villagers should be made aware of it, especially with gossip about a witch in the village.
He walked toward the gathering, boots crunching softly on the fallen leaves that blanketed the path. The conversation quieted some at his approach, and Ingrid offered a faint smile and shifted to give him room beside her.
