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“I had hoped to since I have a woman with me who needs tending, and we could do with some food.”
Jacob had trouble getting up off the bench, but he brushed away Reeve’s offered hand. “My bones may be protesting, but that’s too bad for them. They’ll be doing what I want, or I’ll not give them a lick of rest. Now go get your friend and bring her here. Willow will see to her, and she already has a tasty stew cooking.”
Reeve did as ordered and went and got Tara. He was pleased that she had waited where he had left her. He scooped her up though she protested and had her inside the cottage to find Jacob struggling to lift the door to the root cellar.
Reeve quickly set Tara on a chair and lifted the door before Jacob could object.
“It’s all right, Willow, you can come out now,” Jacob called down.
A slim woman of medium height, with fiery red curls piled wildly on top of her head and a lovely face, though unfortunately marred by a thin scar that ran across her left cheek, practically leapt out of the cellar.
“Are you all right, grandda?” she asked, going directly to him though acknowledging Reeve as she did. “Glad you came along, Reeve.”
“You both truly need to move to the village, for a while at least,” Reeve said. ”The king’s soldiers are suddenly showing a strong presence in this area.”
Willow carefully examined the old man’s injuries. “Grandda will not leave his land, and I will not leave him.”
“No more of this talk,” Jacob ordered. “We have a guest who is injured.”
Willow looked to Reeve, then to Tara. “What is wrong?’
“A sprained ankle, no more,” Tara said. “See to your grandda first.”
Willow ignored the old man’s protests that their guest be seen to first and went and filled a bucket with snow and sat it on the hearth to melt and heat. She gathered stripes of clean cloth and grabbed a handful of herbs that hung in bunches from the ceiling rafters.
While Willow was busy tending her grandda, Reeve helped Tara out of her cloak. His hand went to her arm, her elbow, her back as he moved her around to slip it off her. When done, he realized the cold had seeped deep into her flesh. He moved a chair near the hearth, scooped her up, though she squeaked in protest, and sat her there to warm.
“There’s cider in the pitcher on the table,” Willow said. “Put it on the hearthstone and let it heat, then pour a tankard for each of yourselves.”
Reeve did as Willow had directed, and in a few minutes, he and Tara were warming their innards with the tasty apple cider.
“Now, are you finally going to introduce us?” Willow asked, almost finished with her grandda.
Reeve shook his head for not having done it sooner. “This is Tara, she’ll be joining the MacAlpin clan.”
“Welcome,” Willow said, her smile growing.
“It’s a good clan you join,” the old man said. “You’ll be safe, especially with Reeve at your side.”
“We are not together,” Reeve and Tara said in unison.
Willow and the old man laughed.
“We’re friends,” Tara said, though she blushed.
“That’s how my Edward and I started,” Willow said with a hint of sadness. “We were friends first and fell in love along the way.”
“God bless my grandson’s soul,” Jacob said with a nod. “He’s gone two years now.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Tara said.
“Edward was a good friend and a good man,” Reeve added.
“Died saving my life he did,” Willow said, turning away as a tear fell from her eye.
Silence followed until finally Reeve spoke. “Jacob, you and Willow need to come to the village until the true king takes the throne.”
Jacob waved away Reeve’s plea. “Who knows when that will be? I leave my farm, and it will go to rot, and I chance losing my land.”
