Something that made her pulse pick up speed.
But she should not think of such things now. She had plunged out into the snowy morn with the sole aim of bringing their flock of sheep to safety, and the animals were still out there.
“Ready?” Callum asked.
She nodded and they set off towards the sheep, booted feet sinking into the snow. It was hard work and she could not deny her relief that he had come to help. She would have managed alone, but it was nice to have support.
Her eyes flickered over to him as they approached the huddle of sheep. He strode confidently, lifting his crook and making encouraging noises in his deep ringing voice. The animals scattered at first, before settling into a group and plunging forwards down the hill. She raised her own crook to keep them pointed in the right direction, joining her voice with Callum’s in perfect synchronicity. It was as if they had done this a dozentimes. As if he was no knight, but a son of the land. And she, no daughter of an earl, but a farmer’s wife.
Frida smiled at the fancy as they trudged downward, sliding a little in the snow. Ever since her fall form the horse, icy conditions made her anxious. She couldn’t bear the sensation of her feet slipping, her body moving in a way she couldn’t control. But the snow had not frozen and Callum’s comforting presence helped calm her fears. Time passed and they reached the barn without incident, the sheep baaing to one another once they tunnelled inside and smelled the hay waiting in the manger.
Frida and Callum stood together in the doorway, blinking in the shadows after the dazzling light of sunshine on snow.
“They are safe,” Frida declared, smiling at the scene. Her body was warm after their exertions and she felt almost giddy with the improbable success of her mission. If either Jonah or Mirrie had seen her leaving the hall at first light, they would have certainly tried to stop her. Mayhap Jonah would have even barred her way. Frida folded her arms and leaned against the wooden doorframe, allowing the tension to lift from her shoulders. Her friend and brother would have been right to doubt her ability to handle the task all on her own. She had entertained doubts herself, especially when the barrelling winds all but forced her back into the courtyard. But she had come to Ember Hall determined to prove that a woman could be as capable as any man. She could work the land, care for the animals, make the estate a success.
She had promised her father and she had promised herself.
Her gaze switched to Callum who had walked over to the sheep, checking that each of them was well. He put his hands on his hips as his dark eyes roved over the woolly creatures from top to bottom.
He is a good man,she thought.
Her fears over the hidden stash of weapons evaporated into the cold air as Callum lifted one of this year’s lambs closer to the manger. Jonah was right. It had been naïve of her to expect that a knight would willingly sleep unarmed in a strange place.
“I count forty-four.” Callum’s deep voice broke into her thoughts.
Blinking, she met his dark gaze. “Forty-four?”
He nodded. “Is that right?”
Frida felt a clutch of fear. “Nay, I am sure we have forty-five.”
She stumbled closer to the feeding sheep and began counting them herself, struggling sometimes to differentiate between the white wriggling bodies.
“Forty-four,” declared Callum, once again.
“Aye.” She nodded, swallowing as she realised what this meant. “We must have left one in the pasture.”
Callum sighed. She knew, before he spoke, what he was about to say.
“I will go back,” she blurted, before he could begin. Her ankle throbbed in protest but she ignored the pain.
“Nay, Frida.” His hand on her arm would be something between a comfort and a temptation in other circumstances. “’Tis too much risk for just one sheep.”
“That one sheep deserves my protection as much as any other.”
He shook his head slowly. “Look.” He pointed behind her, through the open doorway. “It has started snowing again.”
She didn’t even glance around. “Then I had better hurry.”
His eyebrows lifted. “It would not be wise.”
But Frida had been checking and re-checking the lines of sheep in front of her and now she was even more determined. “I know which one is missing. ’Tis one of this year’s lambs. One with a torn ear. She is Mirrie’s favourite.”
Callum pressed his lips together. “Then I will go myself and find it.”
She couldn’t allow that.
“I will re-trace our steps.” Frida turned as quickly as she could decently manage and plunged back out into the cold. Instantly she realised that much had changed during their short sojourn in the barn. Thick flakes of snow fell relentlessly, covering her hood and eyelashes within moments. Their footsteps from earlier were still recognisable, but only just. The pervading white of the snow did not just lay at their boots, it was all around them. Up and down, left and right.
