She chuckled softly. “No. It was disappointing. He must have forgotten.”
“And you didn’t remind him?”
She grinned. “I did. A little. But he was too concerned with the tallies.”
Finn knew how much she enjoyed getting presents. It really didn’t matter what it was; it was the thrill of receiving it. Her father always gave her gifts. Well, until now. “I made you a gift.”
She lifted her eyes to his. “You did?”
He was captivated by those familiar eyes, two endlessly deep pools he had missed with every beat of his heart. He nodded. He had started it on the day she left and finished it on the day she returned. He had saved all his coin to buy metal for it and worked tirelessly to sculpt it. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever created.
“Where is it?” she asked.
“Not here. I didn’t bring it with me.” He hoped his present would be enough. He knew the jewels and riches of the knights and lords surpassed anything he could offer.
“When will you give it to me?” she asked with an excited grin.
He smiled at her enthusiasm. “The Yule is coming. I was thinking maybe—”
“Tomorrow?” she asked with exuberance.
“The Yule is a week away. I was considering giving it to you on the Yule.”
Her eyes locked with his, and there was a strange light in them. “A Yule gift,” she murmured. She squeezed his hand, the black part of her blue eyes growing. Her smile grew.
Finn narrowed his gaze. “What are you up to?”
“A Yule gift,” she repeated and stood. “It’s perfect.” She pulled him to his feet. “Thank you, Finn.”
He stood, his mind spinning in confusion. He couldn’t figure out what he had done to make her so happy. He gazed after her suspiciously as she approached the door and wondered what she was plotting.
Chapter Three
“You’ve barely touched your food,”Ari’s father observed.
Ari’s gaze swept the Great Hall again. Lords and knights filled the room, chatting quietly over their venison. Torches flickered in sconces on the wall. The room was more crowded than she could remember it ever being. Two more tables had been carried in to accommodate the guests. Occasionally, she would catch one of the men casting a calculating look at another as he ate.
“Ari, are you feeling well?” her father asked.
Ari tore her gaze from the assembled crowd. “I’m sorry, Father. I’m not hungry.”
“Venison is your favorite,” he said, eyeing her plate of meat.
She sighed softly. “I’m thinking about your request to choose a husband.”
His face lit with anticipation as he asked, “Have you picked one?”
“No,” Ari answered evasively. “But I know who it will be.”
His shoulders fell, and he scowled. “This is a serious matter, Ari. It is not a time for games.”
She scanned the long tables in the hall, noting the men laughing and stuffing their faces with meat and potatoes. “I cannot pick, Father. None of them want me for who I am. They only want what I represent.”
“Ari,” her father moaned.
“Have any of them come to me, engaged me in conversation? Asked my likes and dislikes? No. They’ve all gone to you with their offers of marriage.”
Walter shook his head. He absentmindedly picked at the remaining meat on his plate, sopping up the last of the gravy with a piece of bread. “Some of them are very generous.”
