Page 27 of The Unencumbered Warrior
She glanced at him, her smile softening. “Either have I.” She set a bowl in front of him.
Simple words that said so much more.
Ingrid filled her bowl and joined him at the table where a platter of a variety of breads, cheeses, and honey cakes sat.
Raff rubbed his hands together, grinning as if he couldn’t wait to taste everything there.
She laughed softly. “I have more than enough for you to take some with you.”
“That wouldn’t be good,” he said, his tone serious and his eyes focused intently on her.
She appeared perplexed. “Why not?”
“I wouldn’t be able to share supper with you for a while, and I would greatly miss that.”
She held his intent gaze, finding it stirred a tingle in her. “So would I.”
Raff was glad, more relieved, that she felt the same. They had somehow established a connection today, a closeness that may have been there before now, but was finally fully felt and acknowledged. A good step since he was aching to kiss her again.
So that he wouldn’t vault over the table and do just that, he steered the conversation to safer ground. “Do you think there is much credence to talk about a witch in the woods?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Tongues start gossiping when difficult times fall on folks who are already on edge. They don’t need a second shadow to fear.”
Raff frowned. “One witch is enough to set a village on edge. Two might cause trouble.”
“Clan MacMunn is searching for her. Maybe they can shed some light on the problem,” she suggested.
The name dropped like a stone in his chest. He shifted slightly, masking the tension that crept through his limbs.
“Are you familiar with the clan at all? Perhaps you’ve come across them on your travels?”
Raff took a moment too long to answer. “Heard of them,” he said, lowering his gaze. “A stable clan. Skilled warriors. Good to their people.”
And they are my clan. My family.
The thought pulsed like a bruise. He hadn’t spoken the name in almost a year, hadn’t claimed it even in his own mind in some time. But hearing Ingrid speak it, he felt the divide between who he’d been and who he now was close in like a noose.
What would she think if she knew? If he told her what blood ran in his veins, or what words he’d spoken by firelight, cursing his own name for a foolish wish? He didn’t want to lose her, what he felt for her, what she felt for him.
“If their search brings them this way, we will learn more, or perhaps it will be nothing more than talk and not a bit of truth to it,” Ingrid said.
He wished—he silenced the dangerous thought before it could plant itself and instead, hoped it would work out that way.
They sat exchanging minor talk while eating, the warmth of the fire wrapping around them.
When they were done, he reached across the table and brushed a stray curl from her cheek. “There’s something about being near you that makes the world settle, just a bit.”
“I was thinking the same myself about you,” she confessed softly.
He rose and walked around the table, taking her hand and easing her to her feet, the ache to kiss her far too great to ignore.
Their kiss was slow, no rush, just the warm press of lips becoming familiar with each other. When it broke, their foreheads rested together, breath mingling.
Outside, the chilled wind stirred the trees. Inside, the warmth only grew.
“You have a way about you,” Raff said. “Steady. Honest. I find myself looking forward to hearing your voice, seeing your face, and spending as much time as is proper with you. I didn’t expect that.”
Her cheeks flushed as she stepped away from him. “Nor did I. You surprised me but worry me as well.”
