Chapter Seven
Logan stopped hisspoon at his lips when she shouted at him.
“What is it?” he asked her, suspicious of the uncertainty in her bonnie eyes staring at his spoon.
“A fly. There was a fly on yer spoon.”
He looked at it. He hadn’t seen any fly. Did she have second thoughts about what she was feeding him? Was she feeding him anything other than hare stew?
He watched her lift her spoon to her mouth and eat. He did the same.
He hadn’t planned on coming to the hall and confessing that he considered her pure and that he regretted what her life had become. But he remembered her shining under the sun as if she’d just tumbled from the heavenlies, conversing with a butterfly as it paused above a daffodil.
He remembered. And, as he had for the last six years, wanted to believe stealing a second glimpse of her was worth it.
But he’d only considered if it was worth it for him. He didn’t know she was alive somewhere, living the consequences of his admiration.
He regretted that. If she was going to die by trying to kill him, he wanted her to know that he regretted it all.
“Can ye cook fish?” he asked, eating more stew.
“I can cook anything,” she replied with pride lacing her words, and reached for the bread.
“There is a stream behind the house. I’ll get us some fish after supper.”
“Mnnh.”
He was not taken aback by her cold responses. She hated him. She told him enough times. He’d hated the loss of the use of his arm and the clan that ran their sword through him.
If he’d known she lived, he might have hated her too. But all he’d had was the haunting, though fading memory of a faerie and a butterfly.
And an angel—
“Miss Woodburn,” he said, putting down his spoon. “Ye didna visit yer father’s dungeon when I was in it, did ye?”
She dropped her bread into her stew, then fished it out. She shook her head when she set her gaze on him again. “I often wish I had.”
“Why?”
“Are ye finished eating already?”
He picked up his spoon again and scooped some stew from his bowl. “What would ye have done if ye had gone doun there?”
“I would have done my best to set ye free so my parents and brothers didna have to die.”
“Ye lost much.”
She nodded, looking angry with him for the comfort of his words. “Aye, I did.”
“I dinna recall bein’ awake long enough to stop what happened when my kin arrived at yer home, lass.”
She didn’t reply and didn’t eat anymore.
“But,” he continued after a moment. “I dreamed ye were there.”
Still silent, her gaze slipped to his. Blood draining from her face, she waited for more.
“I dreamed ye were tryin’ to help me.”
