Chapter Fourteen
Liam had done many difficult things in his life. Faced down raiders. Survived a crushing injury. Endured months of pain. But none of that compared to the absolute terror of telling Keir Lewis he intended to court Beitris.
Keir stood outside the apothecary, sharpening a small blade wearing the expression of a man intent on using it soon. Wonderful.
Liam cleared his throat. “Keir, I must speak to ye.”
Keir didn’t look up. “If ye’re here to tell me someone needs dragging out of the tavern, I’m busy.”
“It’s not about the tavern.”
“Then is it Cormac?” he asked, still sharpening. “Because if that bastard is causing trouble again, I want to skin him with this.” He held out the knife, then thought better of it and yanked a wicked looking dagger from a strip of leather strapped across his wide chest.
“It’s not Cormac either.”
Keir paused his sharpening. Slowly, almost lazily, he lifted his gaze. “Then what are ye here to speak to me about, Liam McRay?”
Liam straightened, resisting the urge to tug at his tunic like a nervous lad. “I feel that I must inform ye, warrior to warrior… man to man… I’ve come to speak to ye about… Beitris.”
A silence fell so heavy it felt like the air thickened.
Keir set the blade down, very carefully, and folded his arms. “My sister?”
“Aye.”
“Why?” Keir asked, his green gaze scanning the surroundings. “Is she injured?” He straightened to his full height. Liam was tall, but next to Keir’s muscular form, he felt smaller.
“Nay, nay,” Liam interrupted, horrified. “Gods, no. This isn’t about her being in any kind of trouble.”
Keir nodded once, his shoulders lowering. “Good. What is it then?”
Liam inhaled deeply. “I… care for her. Verra much. And I’ve come to inform ye that I wish to court her. Properly.”
Keir just stared. No blinking. No speaking. Just a stare.
Liam shifted. “This is the part where ye say something.”
Keir tilted his head. “Are ye sure ye’re nae dying? Men say strange things when they’re near death.”
“I am nae dying.”
“Hm,” Keir said. “Pity. That might’ve explained this.”
Liam bristled. “Keir?”
“I’m thinking,” Keir said, holding up a hand. He began pacing around Liam in a slow circle. “Ye care for her, do ye?”
“Aye.”
“Ye intend to court her?”
“Aye.”
“And ye understand she is my sister?”
Liam nodded. “Aye. Of course.”
“And ye’re aware if ye hurt her, I will not hesitate to throw a ye down a deep well?”
“Aye,” Liam said again, choking back a laugh. “I believe it.”
Keir stopped in front of him, arms folded once more. “Then I have one question.”
“Ask it.”
Keir leaned in, squinting suspiciously. “Why her?”
The simplicity of the question hit harder than expected.
Liam’s voice softened. “Because she’s brave without being cruel. Kind without being blind. Because when I was at my lowest, she saw something in me worth saving. And because when she smiles…” He exhaled, helplessly honest. “It feels like the world settles into place.”
Keir blinked at him.
Once.
Then he muttered, “Saints preserve us, ye’re truly in love.”
Liam groaned. “Must ye say it like it’s a fatal illness?”
“Aye,” Keir said cheerfully. “Because it is fatal…if ye break her heart.”
“I have no intention of breaking her heart.”
Keir stared another long moment before nodding. “Very well, I accept it. But ye must seek our parents’ permission, that is what truly counts.”
Relief crashed through Liam so strongly he almost sagged. “Thank ye, Keir.”
“But if she cries,” Keir lifted his finger and pointed at Liam, “ye will cry next.”
Liam blinked. “Is that a threat?”
“A promise,” Keir said pleasantly.
Liam swallowed at the menace in his tone. “Noted.”
Keir clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to rattle his spine. “Good man. Now go tell her before yer nosy sister does.” Keir motioned to the right with his head.
Liam looked over his shoulder and saw his sister pretending not to be eavesdropping. “Do ye think she heard everything?” he asked Keir.
“Aye,” Keir said, his gaze lingering on Effie, who turned and hurried away.
*
Beitris had not expected to find Liam waiting outside the apothecary, leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world. Or that he’d look at her the way he did, steady, hopeful, and entirely too handsome for her peace of mind.
“Beitris,” he said, straightening when she approached, “I’ve something important to ask ye.”
Her stomach dropped. Important rarely meant good where matters of the heart were concerned. She tightened her grip on her basket. “Aye? What is it?”
He took a breath, forehead creasing as if he’d practiced this moment a dozen times and still wasn’t ready. “I spoke to Keir.”
“About what?” she asked warily.
“About ye.” His throat worked. “About courting ye. Properly.”
With a perplexed expression, eyes wide and lips parting, Beitris blinked.
Once.
Then twice.
Liam shifted nervously, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Keir didnae kill me, so I’m taking that as permission.”
Her heart flipped, but she fought to keep her expression steady. “Ye talked to my brother?”
“Aye.”
“And ye survived?”
“Aye,” he said with a wicked grin.
She stared at him, mind spinning. “Liam McRay, are ye sure? Ye wish to court me?”
“Aye,” he said softly. “If ye’ll have me.”
The world seemed to tilt. She should speak, say something sensible, something measured, something that didn’t reveal how her heart was beating as if it were trying to escape her chest. But all that came out was: “Oh.”
Liam’s brow shot up. “Oh?”
“Nay, I mean aye,” she muttered, covering her face with her hands. “I feel strangely.”
He gently lowered her hands, his fingers warm against hers. “It’s only me, Beitris.”
That was exactly the trouble.
She swallowed hard. “Liam, I… I care for ye. Ye ken that. But what if ye change yer mind again? What if ye grow tired of this and…”
“I won’t,” he said firmly. “I may have been an idiot in the past, but I have nae doubt about ye, about us. If ye say yes, I am yers fully. Heart and soul.”
Her breath trembled.
She wanted to believe him so badly it hurt.
“Beitris?” he whispered. “Will ye court me?”
Her lips curved before she could stop them. “Aye, Liam. I will.”
The relief that washed over his face was so raw and unguarded it made her chest ache. He reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Good,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Because we have one more thing to do.”
“Which is?” she asked suspiciously.
“Tell yer parents.”
Beitris nearly tripped. “What? Now?”
“Ye agreed,” he reminded her. “We’ll do this right.”
He sounded maddeningly proud of himself. She wished she didn’t find it so endearing.
“Fine,” she said, “but if my father brings out his bread stick to hit ye with, I’m hiding behind ye.”
He grinned. “Aye, stand behind the injured man, makes perfect sense.”
Beitris giggled.
*
The moment they stepped inside the bakery, warm air enveloped them, sweet with the scent of honey loaves, spices, and the earthy comfort of rising dough. Beitris’ mother stood at the long table cutting pastries, while her father slid a tray of steaming bread from the oven.
Her mother turned first, smiling. “There’s my girl. Oh!” Her eyes flicked between them, landing on their joined hands. “What is this?”
Beitris opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came.
Liam cleared his throat. “Mister and Missus Lewis… I’ve come to ask yer blessing to court Beitris.”
Her mother gasped, grinning so wide she nearly dropped the pastry knife. “I knew it!”
Her father stared at Liam.
Not blinking. Not smiling.
Just stared.
Liam stood straighter, hand tightening around Beitris’s. “Sir, I ken I’m not perfect, but I care for her deeply, and I intend…”
Her father held up a hand.
Liam stopped midsentence.
A heartbeat of silence passed.
Then her father grunted, “’Tis about time.”
“Da!” Beitris exclaimed, mortified.
Her mother clapped her hands together. “Och, this calls for sweet buns! Sit, sit. Liam, have ye eaten? The lad never eats enough, Beitris, look at ye smilin’, I knew ye fancied him.”
“Mam,” she groaned.
But Liam only chuckled, eyes warm as he looked at her, like she was the only thing in the room worth noticing.
Her father approached Liam, wiping flour-covered hands on his apron before placing one heavy palm on Liam’s shoulder. “Ye treat her well, ye hear? Or I’ll have Keir chase ye into the sea.”
Beitris groaned again. “Da, please stop threatening him.”
“I’m not threatened,” Liam said, lips twitching.
Her father arched a brow. “Ye will be if ye hurt her.”
“Understood,” Liam said, entirely sincere.
Her mother swept Beitris into a hug. “Oh, my heart! I knew ye two were meant.”
As the bakery filled with warmth and laughter and far too many sweet buns, Beitris glanced at Liam.
He looked at her the same way he had the night she first kissed him, like he’d finally found his woman.
She squeezed his hand.