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“Nonsense. It will only be cooking a bit more for my own meal and bringing it to ye.” She studied him. “Ye should get yerself a wife.”
Gowan ate in silence, seeming to be in deep thought. “I sometimes consider it.” He gave no further explanation.
“I cannae control if a man courts me or nae. Ye, on the other hand, can court and find yerself a wife. From all the looks ye get, there are many willing lasses.”
Gowan’s cheeks pinkened. “Aye, I suppose.”
“So who is this elusive lass ye cannae bring yerself to court?” Anne teased, handing Gowan the last of the bread. “Tell me. Perhaps I can help.”
His brow pinched, and he averted his gaze. “No one at the moment.”
Though she may be partial, she thought her brother quite handsome. They had the same shade of dark brown hair and golden-brown eyes. His arms and chest were muscular from blacksmithing, and he had the loveliest deep dimples when he smiled.
“I best go,” he said, pushing back from the table. Anne sat and watched as he took his plate and cup from the table to the side table, placing them next to a basin. He then returned and took hers.
“I will help ye clean—”
“Nonsense. Go on. I ken ye have work waiting. I heard from Effie that Siobhan McNichols is getting married, and her mother has ordered everything needed for a kitchen.”
Gowan nodded, letting out a sigh. “Aye, and Missus McNichols is very demanding. She comes by every afternoon to ask about progress. I tell her she is nae the only person who I work for, but she does nae want to hear it.”
Anne laughed. “That woman will nae leave ye be until yer done, I’m afraid. And then complain about every item. Mark my word.”
After her brother left, Anne hummed softly as she washed the dishes, her thoughts turning to the matter of finding him a suitable wife. He needed a woman who was kind and hardworking, yet not meek. Gowan required a woman with opinions, with spirit; someone who could match him and keep his interest from wandering.
With clean clothes wrapped in a drying cloth, she hurried to the creek. She usually bathed there since the area was well concealed and she could quickly dash home if she heard anyone approaching.
The water was frigid, and she shivered as she made quick work of washing herself. Then she rushed from the water, hurrying to the sunny spot where she’d laid out her drying cloth. Barely a pair of steps from her cloth whistling sounded, and Anne whipped around to see Camden walking into view with his cross-body satchel.
At that exact moment, he froze. The whistling stopped. His eyes widened. And Anne yelped. To her utter dismay, in her haste and distraction, she had stumbled. Hitting the ground—hard—a loud whoosh left her body along with every last bit of her breath, making it impossible to breathe, much less get up.
Mortified with embarrassment, Anne struggled to right herself, doing her best to overcome her lack of ability to take in a breath. The cold air blew across her bare skin, bringing shivers, which didn’t help her clumsy attempts.
“Anne!” Camden called as he ran to her. Warm hands slid under her arms and pulled her to stand.
His green gaze met hers. “Are ye injured?”
Despite her face heating with embarrassment, the frigid wind brought on uncontrollable shivering. Anne wrapped an arm over her breasts and crossed her legs in an attempt to cover her nakedness.
“C-can y-ye g-g-get the c-cloth for m-me?” she asked past violently chattering teeth.
He didn’t move.
She forced herself to look up at Camden, noting that he searched her face, then, to her continued dismay, his deep green gaze scanned over her body, not with desire, but with concern. The serious expression of a healer ensuring there were no injuries.
Despite understanding the reasoning, the action made Anne angry.
“I am nae injured,” she gritted out, grateful when he turned away to get her the cloth.
Instead of handing it to her, he wrapped it around her from behind. She grabbed it, pulling it tight, then stomped away toward her home, needing distance between them.
The thin fabric did little to stop the cold that had seeped into her body. The chattering of her teeth affirmed she was indeed very cold.
“Let’s get ye inside to warm up.”
A protest died when he picked up her clothes and hurried toward her cottage. “Ye should consider getting a hound,” he called out over his shoulder. “A dog would alert ye if anyone approached.”
Anne glared at his back but refrained from speaking as it would be affected by her shivers.
