AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I am armed.” She flicked a hand, held a ball of fire. Then crushed it out. “All the time.”
“Fair enough, but the sword adds protection.” He stopped, and in the dim light, took her by the shoulders. “I gave you the sword because you’ve earned it. It’s no small thing in our tradition to forge a sword for someone and give it.”
“And I appreciate it, I do, but—”
“You’re not understanding me. I wouldn’t have given it if you hadn’t earned it. It would diminish the blade and you, and myselffor all that. You’ve trained, and no, you’ll never have a brilliant hand with a sword, but you work at it. You came through a battle with courage. So no, not a warrior, not by choice, but you stand and you fight, you train and you try. You earned the sword, one made for your hand, one that bears your mark. I ask you to wear it.”
He soothed her aches as he spoke, and even her pride and lingering resentment couldn’t pull her away from the relief.
“They didn’t coddle me. They’re not as hard on me as you are—who is? But that’s a long way from being coddled.”
“We see that differently. I will say Mahon had it right. You handled the Were well enough.”
She looked him dead in the eye while Bollocks sat, head turning toward one, then the other.
“You’re saying that because you want a meal and sex.”
“Of course I’m wanting those, and plan to have them. But you handled the Were well enough.”
She decided to take it. “I don’t have a belt for the sword.”
“Bring it over tomorrow. I’ll make one for you.” Now he lowered his hands to her hips. “I know the size of you.”
Mollified a bit, she walked on. As she started to toss out some light, Bollocks let out a bark—a happy one—and raced ahead.
Lights danced down the path, with voices following them.
She heard Marg.
“There’s that fine boy, aye, you’re a fine one. And where’s our girl?”
She watched them come through the mists, the tiny lights flickering all around them.
Bollocks pranced proudly beside Marg, with Finola laughing on the way and Sedric just behind them. All carried baskets, and the scent of their contents wafted seductively down the path.
And she thought they looked as giddy as teenagers on their way to a party.
“You missed a grand afternoon,” Finola told them.
One with plenty of wine, unless Breen missed her guess. “Who won?” she wanted to know.
“We decided on a draw,” Sedric told her, very seriously. “After much debate and discussion, and the sampling of the goods themselves.”
“Enough sampling we’ll likely give the evening meal a miss. And still.” Marg lifted her basket. “We’ve enough to fill sweet teeth in half the valley.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a sample myself.”
“And sure you’ll have plenty at the cottage.” Finola tapped a finger on Keegan’s chest. “We’ll be dropping some off at the farm, and for Aisling and the boys as well.”
“You’ve still a bit of flour just here.” Keegan kissed her cheek.
“Oh, you sly one.” Laughing, she reached in her basket. “One biscuit, and that’s the end of it.”
“Save the sweets,” Sedric advised, “as Marco has what he calls pozole in the pot. We had a sample there as well.”
“Spicy.” Finola wiggled her eyebrows. “Like the cook himself. I have a dish in here to take my Seamus, as he likes the spicy.”
“And with the spicy and the sweet, we surely had a vat of wine.” Marg leaned her head toward Sedric. “What a fine time we had. Now off with you, out of this wet, and have a fine time yourselves.”
