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Then in one moment, he’d made two mistakes that in all probability would make it hard, if not impossible, to gain Anne’s trust again.

He’d been stunned, unable to think clearly when seeing Eara. Why hadn’t his aunt or uncle told him she was back? Perhaps they’d not been aware. As she’d swayed to the music, seeming not to have a care in the world, he’d been struck speechless, resentment surging within him to the point that he was blinded to his surroundings and desperate to get away.

Then he’d made the second mistake, he’d run off with barely a word to Anne. How stupid of him. In that moment something had gripped him, and he’d nae ken how to react. Now, Anne would have the wrong impression. It wasn’t that he still loved Eara, but more that he had to leave and not act impulsively.

What would he have done? At that moment he wasn’t sure. Too much time had passed since she’d left without giving him an explanation. That she’d not had the decency to explain, to tell him that she didn’t love him, that she was leaving had been what hurt the most.

The one lesson from heartbreak was how important it was to consider other people’s feelings, and yet here he was doing just the opposite of that.

Stopping in front of his shop, Camden didn’t go inside. The four walls would feel constraining; what he needed was to fetch his horse and go for a long ride. He eyed the village square, searching for Anne. She remained sitting next to Effie, their heads close as they probably discussed what an idiot he was.

Throwing his head back, he closed her eyes and spoke out loud. “I am so daft.”

“Should I agree with that statement?” Gowan walked up to him, giving him a critical look. “What happens?”

“I cannae tell ye,” Camden said as the blacksmith fell into step beside him.

Thankfully Gowan stood in front of him, blocking any view of the activities of the village center. “Ye look as if ye need a whiskey.”

Camden nodded rubbing both hands down his face. “Aye, I do.” He met his friend’s gaze. “Eara is back. I was speaking to Effie and Anne. I ran away.”

With a deep bark of laughter, Gowan threw an arm around Camden’s shoulders.

Camden gave him a droll look. “I am embarrassed by my reaction, and ye can only laugh?”

If the man knew he’d kissed his sister—twice—and both times the lass had not been pleased by it, Camden was sure he’d be beaten to death. Gowan was a strong muscular man with thick arms used to hammering iron.

“We all do stupid things when it comes to a lass,” Gowan replied, his tone somber.

Camden shrugged from under Gowan’s arm. “Aye. I ken.”

“I ken little about women, my sister reminds me often. For whatever reason, it is hard to do and say the right thing when around them.”

Before Gowan got the impression that he was interested in Effie, Camden spoke. “Next time ye see Effie, ye should speak with her. Take her for a walk.”

His friend’s face flushed, and he acted as if Camden didn’t mention Effie. “I just returned from the archery camp. Liam required help.”

Each time Camden brought Effie up, Gowan diverted the conversation or was quick to make excuses as to why he didn’t approach the feisty lass. If Camden were to be honest, it was fun to see how the wee lass affected such a huge man to the point he was terrified of approaching her.

“What are ye going to do about Eara?” Gowan deftly continued to change the subject. “If she has returned to Tokavaig and plans to remain, it is best to get it done and over with.”

Was there anything that needed to be said? Camden wasn’t sure. “I dinnae have anything to say.”

“Then why did ye run away?” Gowan asked motioning to the tavern.

*

Camden rode to a cottage at the edge of the village; he’d been summoned to help with a young boy who’d fallen from a tree. He was greeted by a distraught father, who took the horse’s reins and tied them to the nearby fence.

“He has nae woken since we found him,” the man said, his voice trembling. “The lad is our precious son; he must get better. Please help him, healer.”

Hurrying into the cottage, he found a woman crying over a boy who’d been placed atop a pallet of blankets. Another woman and a man sat nearby with helpless expressions. Lastly, two young girls sat on the floor next to the boy’s cot. Both wore matching sullen fearful expressions.

“If I may ask that ye move away so I can see him properly,” Camden said to the woman. She nodded, taking the two little girls by the arms and moving them back with her.

The boy was pale, there was a large bump on his forehead, and scratches on his face where the branches must have caught. When lowering his face to the boy’s, Camden felt the brush of breath, not faint, but almost normal.

“What is the lad’s name?” Camden asked.