Chapter 14 Evera #2
“You spoil that mare,” my brother said.
I rolled my eyes, and he shot me a pointed look. Right, ladies didn’t roll their eyes either.
“I’m going,” I said to Aureus.
“I will accompany you, then,” Ruairc chimed in, his smile easy and honest. He was either oblivious to my denial of wanting to spend time with him or feigning daft for the chance to be alone with me.
When we were children, I’d enjoyed his company, climbing trees and racing through the woods; back when he would sooner kiss a toad than consider putting his lips to mine. Things had changed.
I suppressed a sigh. “I’ll go dress.”
The stable smelled of horses and dried fodder and dust. It was wonderful.
Though it would be better without the cobbler’s voice following after me.
Friendly nickers greeted us as we entered, and Ruairc halted in whatever he was going on about when a black stallion brought his head over a stable door and snorted a welcome. Ruairc offered a hand to the animal and stroked the side of his face.
Leaving the two, I made for the back wall where tack and brushes were stored. They were communal items, free for us to use as long as we cared for and returned them. Our family couldn’t afford a stall, so Sorrel was in the pasture.
“I need to grab a brush,” I called over my shoulder.
I selected one, then grabbed a second, deciding Ruairc could make himself useful if he was intent on following me around. Turning back, I stumbled and tripped into him standing directly behind me.
Ruairc caught me, and I stiffened in his arms. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” I said sharply, gaining my feet and removing his arms from my waist.
His easy smile faded, and a muscle at his jaw twitched. I handed him one of the brushes and shouldered past him. He’d planned my future without considering my thoughts; I wouldn’t feel guilty for my cold demeanor.
Ruairc walked beside me to the paddock, unusually quiet.
Sorrel trotted over, nickering and tossing her head as she pranced.
She was a beautiful mare, her patchy, shedding coat notwithstanding.
She lowered her head when she reached us and nuzzled against my chest. I patted her neck, then stroked down the side of her face.
Her thick winter hair came out in chunks between my fingers.
In the warm rays of late dawn, we brushed in silence for some time.
The discomfort of the quiet was tangible, but it was better than speaking.
Through hooded lashes, I glanced over Sorrel’s back to study the cobbler.
If he’d asked for my hand directly, rather than asking my brother, would it have changed things?
In a sense, I loved him, or at least I had at one time.
In childhood, we’d been nearly as close as Aureus and I were.
Though I was unsure if I could ever bring myself to desire him, if he’d come to me personally, I could have at least given his proposal consideration.
It was the fact that he’d gone to my brother and never asked what I wanted that upset me the most. I saw it for what it was—a hint at what being his wife would be like.
I’d belong to him, and he would make all my decisions for me.
I would keep his home, tend his needs, and bear him children.
I’d never be able to practice healing again.
Though I knew his intentions were good and that he would never mistreat me, marrying Ruairc would stifle my soul.
“I’m trying,” Ruairc said, catching my eyes. He stopped brushing. “What happened between us? Don’t you remember how it was when we were young?”
I brushed along Sorrel’s neck, dislodging thick clumps of fur. Her silky spring coat beneath promised the change of seasons would be upon us soon. “I grew up. We both did.”
Ruairc’s hand rested on mine at the top of Sorrel’s back, stilling my movements, and I fought the urge to pull from his touch.
“I know.” Ruairc’s voice was soft, and he trailed a thumb over the back of my hand before dropping it. “I’m just a shoemaker, Evera. I’m a simple man. But I’m trying to say the right things, do the right things. For you.”
I let out a breath. “What is it that you remember?” He drew his brows slightly, and I clarified. “From when we were kids.”
His easy smile returned. “I remember your excitement when you first learned what wild plants could be found in the woods. I remember going with you to collect them and how your face lit when you told me of their uses. You so rarely smiled back then.”
I closed my eyes. Ruairc was sweet, and he knew me for who I was; I would give him that. But he was traditional in every sense of the word, and he would expect me as his wife to fit into the image society expected of me.
Ducking under Sorrel’s head, Ruairc came to stand beside me and raised a hand to my cheek. “You still so rarely do.”
He was close, too close. Though his intentions had been clear for many years, his advancements had never surpassed lingering glances or the slight brush of his hand against the back of mine when we walked close together. Never had he touched me like this.
“I smiled yesterday,” I reminded him. “When you greeted us at the wagon.”
Was it the agreement he came to with my brother that emboldened him? Or was it only that he was older now, knew what he wanted, and understood how to pursue a woman? Did his confidence come from experience? Did I care if it did?
“You smiled because you’ve grown up. Because it was the proper thing to do.” He leaned in closer. “I want to see the smile you shared with me when we were just children in the woods. When you found passion.”
Oh. Gods.
His eyes hooded, and he lowered until his breath warmed my face. He wouldn’t kiss me. He would wait, let me close the distance. It was the kind of man he was. But I didn’t want this. And he was dreadful at reading a mood.
I put a hand on his chest and turned my head aside. “I’m sorry, Ruairc.”
Quiet fell between us, even as his breath still warmed the side of my face. “Is this because of your mother?”
I took a step back, raising my guard. My tone sharpened. “Because of my mother?”
Ruairc’s jaw tightened. He exhaled, retreating with carefully chosen words. “Don’t be upset.”
Gods, he sounded just like Aureus. Why did men always feel inclined to tell me not to be upset? Irritation stung, but I held my tongue, waiting for him to tell me what it was I wasn’t supposed to be upset about.
“I know you don’t like to speak of her, but you can’t live your life in fear of relationships because of—”
“Because of her?” My tone was sharp. “Because she was a prostitute?”
I remembered little of Mother. I had memories of hiding with Aureus, waiting for her to return to us. Other times, of watching because the man who bought her was impatient. But I didn’t resent our mother for what she was. She’d done it to keep us fed, to keep us alive.
Ruairc’s eyes widened, and he sucked in a breath. He shook his head. “Evera, that’s not what I meant.”
I leveled my gaze, irritated that the way he said my name brought back memories of when we were children, when we were close.
Ruairc’s family came from the western lands, and he had a slight difference of accent, which led him to pronounce my name Ever-ah instead of Ev-air-a.
It had been a while, I realized, since he’d said my name.
“When my father died,” he said, “I cried. Do you remember that?”
He’d been ten. “I remember.”
“You asked me why I cried. You said my mother could be free of him finally.” I remembered that too. “When I told you my father was good to her, loved her, loved us both, you told me I was wrong. You were eight. And all you knew of men was what you’d seen them do to your mother.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat and lowered my eyes to my boots. He raised my chin, the notion gentle, intimate. My stomach swirled.
“Not all men are like that,” Ruairc said. “Don’t close your heart to love without giving it a chance.”