Chapter Fifteen #3
She had clearly not come by chance. Her hair had been carefully styled, loose curls arranged to tumble just so about her shoulders.
A ribbon of deep color threaded through the strands, drawing attention to the glossy richness of it.
Her attire, something Camden had not seen her wear before, clung in flattering lines, the bodice laced to emphasize her figure, the fabric freshly pressed and chosen in a shade that warmed her complexion.
Even her lips carried a faint tint, and the subtle scent of lavender reached him before she had fully stepped inside.
She had taken time. Considerable time. Not for errands. And certainly not entirely for him.
Her narrowed eyes flicked from Eara to Camden. The lack of surprise in her expression made it clear she already knew of Eara’s return.
“Camden,” she said, pointedly ignoring the other woman as she crossed the room, deftly navigating around the broken glass. “I wished to give ye time to rest before calling on ye, but I see ye’ve been disturbed.”
Her gaze sharpened as it landed on Eara, who stood rigid, brow creased.
Moyra continued smoothly, “How fares the wee lad ye tended last night?”
“Recovering,” Camden replied. His patience thinned further. Moyra’s timing was no coincidence. She had come because Eara was here.
“It has been a long time, Moyra,” Eara said, a sneer edging her words.
“I am surprised ye returned,” Moyra answered with a soft huff, her tone light but edged. “Is yer husband aware of where ye are?”
Color rose swiftly along Eara’s neck, staining her cheeks. “Camden and I require privacy,” she said tightly. “We were speaking.”
When another knock sounded at the door, Camden’s stomach tightened. For one fleeting, dreadful moment he feared it might be Anne stepping into this chaos.
The door opened. Relief washed through him in a slow exhale when Beitris entered instead.
His cousin filled the doorway like a force of nature, vivid and unmistakable.
Her bright red hair, the same fiery shade as his own, blazed in the light, gathered loosely yet already escaping in wild strands that framed her face.
Sharp green eyes, keen and unyielding, surveyed the room with the quick precision of a hawk sizing up prey.
She needed no explanation.
Her gaze flicked first to Moyra, narrowing, then to the glittering shards scattered across the floor, widening, and finally locked onto Eara with unmistakable fury.
Beitris strode forward, boots striking the floor with purpose. Eara raised her hands instinctively, as though bracing for a blow. Camden would not have wagered against the possibility.
Beitris stopped only when they stood nearly nose to nose. “Get out,” she spat, voice low but cutting as steel. “And dinnae come here again. Ye made yer choice. I hope it proves punishment enough.”
Eara gasped sharply, as though struck all the same. Eyes filled, she fled the room. Her skirts swinging wildly, she knocked over a jug and left the door gaping behind her.
Beitris turned next to Moyra, and the shift in her attention alone was enough to make the woman edge away from Camden.
He found himself watching with quiet curiosity. When Beitris was in such a mood, one didnae interrupt.
Hands planted firmly on her hips, she gave a sharp huff. “Moyra. For all that is holy, allow Camden to pursue ye, not the other way around. Go home.”
Moyra bristled, chin lifting. “Ye have nae right to address me so.”
“I dinnae,” Beitris replied lightly with a shrug, though her eyes remained bright with challenge. “Only offering advice. Take it or leave it. Now be on yer way, Camden and I have work awaiting.”
Moyra shot Camden a lingering pout before departing without another word.
Silence settled in her wake.
It felt as though the very air shifted, lighter, breathable again. Camden sagged forward, planting his hands on the table as he lowered his head.
“What a morning.”
“It is early afternoon,” Beitris corrected dryly, already fetching a broom. The rhythmic scrape of bristles across wood filled the room as she swept herbs and glass into a careful pile.
In that moment, Camden felt a rush of affection so strong it surprised him. As she passed close, he pulled his cousin into a fierce embrace, wrapping his arms around her in a crushing hug.
“If I have nae said it before,” he murmured, “I say it now. I love ye, dear cousin. Ye are the finest ally a man could claim.”
Beitris laughed, warm and bright, the sound echoing through the apothecary. “I suspect ye’ve reached yer limit.”
He released her slightly, though curiosity lingered. “How long were ye here? What did ye hear?”
“I had entered through the back just after ye went to speak with Eara,” she replied casually. “I’d come from the bakery.” She gestured toward the doorway that connected the apothecary with his living space. “Brought ye something to eat.”
Camden blinked at her, uncertain whether to be grateful or offended. “And ye waited so long to intervene?”
“Ye needed to hear Eara,” Beitris said simply, sweeping another line of glass aside.
“Though I confess her boldness astounds me.” A mischievous glimmer sparked in her eyes.
“As for Moyra… Well, I’d hoped they might come to blows.
It would have been entertaining.” She gave him an impish grin.
“I ran around to come in the front door, praying I didnae miss much.”
Camden dragged his fingers through his unruly hair with a groan. “Ye are an evil lass.”
Grinning despite himself, he draped an arm across her shoulders. “I am famished,” he added. “Tell me, what have ye brought?”
Beitris went to the other room, returned and slid the parcel toward him, her red curls catching the light as she tipped her head. “Bread still warm, cheese, and honey cakes. I suspected ye’d nae broken yer fast as yet.”
She smiled motioning to the glass on the floor. “Keep me company whilst I clean this up.”
The scent reached him before he even opened the wrapping: yeasty bread and sweet honey. The comforting warmth of something made with care. His chest tightened unexpectedly. After the morning’s chaos, the simple kindness steadied him more than he wished to admit.
He tore off a piece and took a bite, closing his eyes briefly as flavor spread across his tongue. Only then did he realize how hollow his stomach felt and how drained the rest of him remained.
Beitris watched him for a moment, her sharp green gaze softening. “That took more out of ye than yer pretending.”
Camden exhaled slowly, leaning back against the table. The fatigue returned now that the storm had passed, settling deep in his bones.
“I thought I would feel something different,” he admitted. “Anger. Relief. Vindication.” He shook his head. “Instead, there was nothing. As if she were a stranger.”
Beitris swept the last of the glass into a pile. “That is something, cousin. It means she no longer holds power over ye.”
He considered that in silence, chewing thoughtfully. The idea settled into him with quiet weight. For years Eara had been a wound he carried, sometimes aching, sometimes lingering on the edges, but never gone.
And now only emptiness remained. Oddly, the absence didnae feel tragic. It felt freeing.
His thoughts drifted, unbidden, toward another woman, soft-spoken, watchful, her quiet presence lingering in his memory like the scent of herbs after rain. Anne’s hesitant smiles. The warmth in her eyes when she believed no one noticed.
A different sort of stirring moved through him then, gentler, uncertain, but undeniably alive.
Camden straightened slightly, as though catching himself wandering too far inward. He muttered, reaching for another bite, “I dinnae think she will return. I can concentrate on other… things.”
Beitris’s brow lifted knowingly, though she said nothing.
He finished the bread and wiped his hands, squaring his shoulders as purpose returned. “There is work awaiting. Villagers needing care. Life continues whether I sleep or nae.”
“That it does,” she agreed, tying off the bundled upbroken glass. “Though perhaps ye might attempt rest at some point.”
He gave a tired half-smile. “Perhaps.”
But as he gathered his things, his thoughts lingered, not on Eara, nor Moyra, nor the morning’s chaos.
They lingered on Anne. And for the first time in longer than he could remember, the path ahead felt open rather than haunted.