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She nearly stumbled. “My brother?” Her eyes widened. “Ye intend to walk directly into that lion’s den?”
Camden smiled faintly. “I have faced worse.”
Anne considered this. “Ye clearly have never disagreed with him over supper.”
He laughed outright this time.
Still, emotion tightened her chest. “Ye are certain?” she asked more softly. “Courtship is nae a passing fancy, Camden.”
He slowed, turning toward her, their hands still linked. “I have spent too long allowing fear and old wounds to guide my choices,” he said. “I will nae do so again. I care for ye deeply, Anne. I wish to learn all there is to ken about ye, what makes ye laugh, what troubles yer sleep, what dreams ye keep hidden.”
Her throat tightened.
“And if, in time,” he continued gently, “ye find ye care for me in equal measure… then we will see where that path leads.”
Anne studied him, her heart far less guarded than it had been that morning.
“Ye truly mean to endure Gowan’s interrogation for this?”
His grip tightened affectionately. “I do.”
She smiled, warmth spreading through her. “Then I suppose,” she said, “I should warn ye he will ask about yer intentions, yer income, yer temper, and whether ye snore.”
Camden blinked. “Snore?”
“He is thorough.”
They both laughed, the tension easing into something light and hopeful.
Anne squeezed his hand. “I would like that,” she admitted. “Moving forward.”
They didn’t leave the sanctuary of the forest right away, instead, they wiled away several hours walking, stopping ever so often to kiss or just stare into each other’s eyes. Neither wishing to lose contact with one another.
Even as they headed back to her cottage, Anne was reluctant to let him leave. It felt as if whatever magic held them close would unravel once they parted ways.
Chapter Seventeen
Effie served Florie a bowl of mutton with a freshly baked piece of bread.
“Where is Anne today?” the elderly woman asked, between bites.
“I thought to find her here,” Effie replied. “I will go there straight from here and ensure she is well.”
She’d been surprised not to find Anne there, as she was sure the day before they’d talked about seeing each other at the elderly women’s house. Then again, poor Anne had been quite affected by Camden’s actions. The healer and all his complications were something her sweet friend didn’t need. Unfortunately, despite not claiming it, Anne was very much in love with him.
When the heartbreak came, which Effie prayed it didnae, she’d have to be there for Anne.
Florie narrowed her eyes at Effie, her weathered hands planted firmly on her hips. “Ye are nae courting yet? Ye’ve been of childbearing age for years now. Why are ye lasses waiting longer and longer to wed?” She clicked her tongue, disappointment radiating from her like cold air through an open window.
Effie straightened, chin lifting, she regarded the older woman. “I plan to marry soon,” she said briskly, folding her arms with confidence that she hoped looked genuine. “Dinnae trouble yerself, Florie. I am but one and twenty, hardly ancient. There is time yet for bairns.”
Florie huffed in a manner that clearly declared her unconvinced. “And who is this fortunate man? There are plenty about who would fancy a pretty lass like ye. The vicar, for instance.”
Effie burst into laughter. Loud, unladylike, and immediate. “Me and the vicar?” she wheezed. “Do ye truly see that working?”
For a fleeting second Florie looked thoughtful before her eyes sparkled with wicked humor. “Nae,” she admitted, chuckling. “But I would dearly enjoy witnessing the attempt.”
Still smiling, Effie left her and began the walk home. The village unfolded before her in the golden light of late afternoon, familiar and beloved. Vendors packed away their goods in the square while the scent of fresh bread and roasting meat lingered in the cooling air. Men clustered outside the tavern with the solemn determination of those pretending they might not end up inside within the hour.
