Chapter Ten
Anne woke unsure of where she was until realizing she was at her brother’s cottage.
He’d insisted she not be alone after the burial, and she’d agreed.
In truth, she wasn’t as saddened by Agnes’s death as much as with facing the possibility of how Agnes died.
Alone. Out in the cold and without anyone to help.
It was like a glimpse into her own future.
Slipping from the bed, she padded to the front room to find Gowan fast asleep on the floor in front of the hearth. He was wrapped in blankets and snoring soundly.
Unable to keep from it, she neared and took him in, remembering when they were children and how they’d often done just that, slept in the front room, giggling and talking until overcome by sleep.
She’d cook breakfast and then find her way home to prepare to visit the other elderly woman, Florie. She’d not been to visit the woman, and after Agnes’s death, worry niggled on the edges of her mind. It was silly, of course, to think that the spry Florie had also succumbed.
While stirring the porridge Anne thought about what Moyra had said.
Anne had not considered that Camden’s gesture of riding back to the village with her had been done in an effort to make Moyra jealous.
On the contrary, she’d thought he’d done as a way to distract her from the situation.
As it happened, they’d had an enjoyable time.
Both the banter and the ride had helped in keeping her from thinking of Agnes, if even for a few moments.
Though it was possible that his motivation was not what Anee thought it was. After all, it seemed to have worked. Her chest constricted at the acknowledgement that what she’d thought to have been a continuation of friendship had been nothing more than a ploy.
There it was. The confirmation of her fears. She was not the kind of woman a man approached for marriage, but someone who was easily overlooked as a potential partner.
“Anne, ye should nae be so sad. Agnes was old and infirmed,” Gowan said, pulling her away from her musings. He had woken and stood next to the small kitchen table studying her. With sleep tussled hair and drowsy eyes, he looked endearing.
“Aye, I am being overly sentimental.” She motioned to the table. “Sit.” Bringing two bowls filled with porridge, she placed one in front of him and the other in front of the empty chair, then sat. “There’s something I wish to discuss with ye.”
“What is it?” Gowan gave her a worried look. “Are ye unwell?”
Anne shook her head. “Nay, what I am is scared. Gowan, I dinnae wish to end like Agnes. Dying alone. It is my biggest fear. To become an old forgotten woman living in a cottage by the creek with no one to see after me or even to care. I have always wished for bairns, for a husband, and to be surrounded by my loved ones.”
“Ye can have all ye wish,” Gowan stated, his gaze locked on her face. “Why do ye think it is nae to be?”
She let out a long sigh. “I am seven and twenty. I have naught one suitor. Haven’t had in a very long time.”
The revelation made her brother gawk at her as if what she said was something he’d not considered and ever thought about. “Ye will always have me, Anne. If ye wish, I can come live with ye, or we can furnish another room, and ye move here.”
Despite the sadness in her heart, Anne chuckled. “I dinnae think yer future wife would wish to live with ye and yer spinster sister.”
“I have nae even given any thought to taking a wife,” Gowan argued. “There is plenty of time…years even… before I—”
“Dinnae dare wait years,” Anne exclaimed startling herself with the harshness in her tone. “Ye are near one and thirty. ’Tis past time ye take a wife and have bairns of yer own.”
Gowan shrugged. “I will nae marry anyone who does nae accept ye.”
For an unexplainable reason, ire rose. “So even ye consider me to be unmarriageable then?”
To his credit, her brother was wise enough to stay silent, head bent in thought before speaking again. “That ye have nae one suitor is possibly all my fault.”
Anne blinked. “Dinnae blame yerself. Why would ye say that?”
Color rose in his cheeks and he looked everywhere but at her. “I may have threatened that any man approaching ye, I would…”
“What Gowan? Would what?”
“It was at the tavern… I may have been drunk…” He blew out a long breath.
“I may have repeated often… mayhap all the time… for a long time…” he paused.
Glanced up at her. Then taking in a big gulp of air, he blurted out, “I threatened that anyone who approached ye would have their head slammed on my anvil and discover what being hit with a blacksmith’s hammer would actually feel like. ”
Too shocked to do more than stare wide-eyed at her brother, Anne didn’t ken what to think. Being protective had been his nature since their parents had died in a fire that had left them orphaned, but what he’d done was not acceptable.
Finally, she stood, stared down at him, and through gritted teeth asked, “Ye threatened an entire village of men against pursuing me? Did ye ever think to tell me so that all this time I didnae think I looked like an ogre’s offspring?”
He shrugged, wide shoulders lifting and lowering. “I didnae think to.”
“Ye didnae think to,” Anne repeated, her voice raising an octave as she stomped closer to her brother and pushed her finger into his temple none too gently. “I have to go before I lose what’s left of my temper and beat ye with a broomstick.”
Grabbing her shawl, she wrapped it around her shoulders and stormed from the house.
By the time she reached the village center, her ire had blossomed into rage.
If she ended up a dried-up spinster, she would indeed move in with Gowan, and he would be the one caring for her. It was an appropriate punishment.
And to think she planned to ask him to help her find a husband.
“I would nae be surprised if Liam did the same,” Effie exclaimed between guffaws. “I can only imagine Gowan’s expression when ye threatened to beat him with a broom.”
They sat outside Effie’s home on a bench looking at the forest. Not wishing to go home and too angry to visit Florie, Anne found herself walking the short distance to visit her friend.
Despite her earlier ire, Anne chuckled. “He was terrified. Men are deathly afraid of broomsticks.” The pair of women collapsed into fits of laughter.
Effie sat up straight, her brow lowering in thought, followed by a look of excitement, eyes wide and lips curving. “There is a way to get ye married straight away.”
“Public auction?” Anne grumbled, picturing herself standing atop a high stage as men circled, examining her closely.
“The Miracle Stone,” Effie said in an awed tone. “Ye can look for it. I will help ye. I am certain it was the stone that healed my brother, although he will nae admit it.”
“The stone is naught more than a tale.” Anne let out a sigh. “If it were real, there would be nae sickness, broken hearts, or calamity ever befalling our village.”
Effie stood and dusted her skirts. “Say what ye will. It is real and appears here in our forest. It moves about the surrounding lands and appears upon those who are deemed worthy. When the fortunate person happens upon it, their wish comes true.”
Anne stood and hugged her. “Thank ye, Effie. I can always count on ye to lighten my mood. I am already a fortunate woman, because I have ye as a friend.” She gathered her shawl around her shoulders. “I’d best head home. There is much to do today.”
“Think about what I said,” Effie insisted. “There is a reason for tales and fables. They are based on truth.”
Deep in thought, Anne walked toward the village square and into the bakery. Once inside she waited in line for it to be her turn.
“I am a bit worried about the lad. When he finds out, I am nae sure what his reaction will be.” Camden’s aunt stood toward the back of the room with another woman.
The woman shook her head. “She should be ashamed to face yer family, especially after how she treated him. The nerve of Eara returning to Tokavaig.”
Then the woman added in a hushed tone. “I thought best to let ye ken. So ye can warn Camden.”
Anne’s ears perked at the mention of his name.
“Thank ye,” Camden’s aunt said shaking her head. “She broke our Camden’s heart, and it is only recently that he seems to be returning to normalcy. I believe he is courting.”
Anne hated to eavesdrop, but it was impossible not to. Whoever the woman was at the front of the line seemed to be purchasing enough bread to feed half the village, which meant Anne couldn’t move forward. If she were to be honest, in a way, she was grateful.
“Courting?” the woman asked.
Camden’s aunt huffed, “Aye. Unfortunately, it is that lass Moyra.”
The line moved forward then so she couldn’t hear what the woman whispered in response. She’d heard the rumors of what had happened to Camden. But it had been around the time she had lost her parents, so she’d not paid much heed.
Her family had lived in a house attached to the blacksmith shop, and almost three years ago, Anne had woken to screams. Their house was engulfed in smoke.
Terror had seized her when all she could see were smoke and flames.
Gowan had saved her life. Unfortunately, their father and mother had perished that night.
When Anne had refused to live in the house Gowan had rebuilt next to the blacksmith shop, he’d then built her cottage closer to the creek, not too far from his home.
Helping the elderly had been her way of recovering, but there was so much she’d missed as she’d spent most of her time just outside the village.
Curiosity filled her as she ordered her loaf of bread, sliding a look to where Camden’s aunt now stood alone, seeming deep in thought.
“How fare ye, Missus Lewis?” Anne greeted the woman who walked closer with a smile.
“I am well. What about ye, poor lass? I heard about Agnes, bless her. Ye must be very sad.”
Anne loved Camden’s aunt. Always had a kind word. “I am very sad. But otherwise well.”