Page 28 of The Archer’s Wish

“Aye, a bit,” Beitris murmured.

But the noise had only been half of it. The other half was Cormac’s grip still ghosting her shoulders. And the memory of Liam’s hands earlier that day gentle, warm, wanting.

Her mother brushed it off, urging, “Stay inside and rest today.”

She shrugged. “I got enough sleep. I will rest tonight.”

Hours later, after the morning rush thinned, she sat nibbling on warm bread slathered in butter and beef. Even the comfort of food couldn’t steady her nerves. She wandered to the doorway, heart tight.

Cormac was gone.

“Da?” she asked carefully as her father slid a fresh tray into the oven. “Did ye see Cormac skulking about this morning?”

“I did. Stood across the way a long while.” Her father’s frown deepened. “Effects of too much drink leaves a man addlebrained.”

Beitris managed a laugh. “He grew cross with me last night when I refused to dance with him. Even more so when I kicked him between the legs. I believe he’s trying to intimidate me.”

Her father slowly set the loaf down, gaze sharpening with worry. “Dinnae toy with that man. He is nae right in the head. Be with care, lass. Best ye nae wander alone for a bit.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. Though her heart gave a betraying flutter of unease.

“Where is Keir?” she asked abruptly. “He was supposed to be nearby.”

“He went out early on patrol. Said he’d return this evening.”

“I have yet to see him. Why did he nae seek me out?”

Her father snorted. “Ye ken yer brother, never still for long.”

Beitris cast one more look out the window, jaw set despite the lingering fear twisting inside her.

She refused to hide because of a drunken brute.

Fetching her shawl, she stepped outside to join the village women sweeping the square, determined not to shrink from her own home.

The morning’s work should have been an easy chore, sweeping aside the remnants of the previous night’s revelry, brushing away stray ribbons, crushed flowers, spilled ale, and bits of charred wood left from torches. The women made light of it, calling across the square with gossip and laughter. Effie, Liam’s spirited sister, had everyone roaring as she reenacted the clumsy, lovesick attempts of a man who’d stepped on her toes half the night.

Beitris bent to scoop a handful of rubbish into her apron, smiling despite her restless sleep, when a shadow fell over her.

Two large feet. Dirt-caked. Too close.

She jerked upright, heart stuttering painfully.

Cormac stood before her, looming like a storm cloud ready to break. His eyes were bloodshot, his jaw clenched, and the challenging curl of his lip made her stomach drop.

“Ye owe me an apology,” he growled softly. “Talk to me nice and sweet.”

The thinly veiled threat wrapped around her throat like a tightening rope. She instinctively stepped back. Her breath hitched.

All chatter died. Every woman turned rigid, glancing between Beitris and the brute with growing alarm.

“Leave her be, Cormac,” an older woman called sharply. “We’ve much to do. Ye can court the lass later.”

He didn’t even flicker an acknowledgment. His gaze remained locked on Beitris, head tilting like a predator studying prey.

“I said… apologize.”

Beitris swallowed hard. Her heart hammered so loudly she feared the others could hear it. “Wh..what do ye think I did?” Her voice came out surprisingly steady despite the tremor in her limbs. “I’ve barely exchanged a word with ye.”