Page 11 of A Rogue to Cherish

“Well, there are plenty of young lasses at the house. Also, you haven’t had the opportunity to meet anyone in the area in which we live. I am sure you will soon find a friend.” Her aunt smiled. “Speaking of which, I must stop and visit Martha, she has not been feeling well at all.

When the wagon stopped, both Wren and her aunt climbed down. Her aunt waved in the direction of where they lived. “Continue on to the house. I will see about Martha and be home shortly.”

“I will start supper,” Wren said as they came to the small house where Martha lived, and her aunt went to the front door. Wren continued to their home, which was not very far, where she took the shopping basket that had been left by the door and continued on the short distance to the village center.

The square was bustling with activity. It was the end of the day, and most were there to gather items to cook for dinner. She went to the bakers and purchased a loaf of bread, then stopped at a stall and purchased sausages. Once that was done, she turned to head back home.

A man stepped in front of her, his dark gaze taking her in. “Do I know you?”

Wren moved backward, not liking how close he was. “No, I do not think so.” She took a step sideways. “Allow me to pass, sir.”

“I think I know you,” the man persisted. He was a bit taller than her, and of stocky build, reminding her of an ox. He had a thick neck, dark brown hair, and a bushy beard. “Ah yes, you came to my father’s shop the other day. With your aunt.”

Unable to remember him, but hoping that he’d allow her past, Wren nodded. “That must be it.”

He crossed his beefy arms. “You’re new here. I can show you around.” When the corners of his lips curved, Wren felt an urge to kick him. A man did not court a woman by intimidating her.

“It is not necessary. My aunt has shown me the entire area.” It was not an exaggeration since the small village on the outskirts of Glasgow was not particularly large. “If you would excuse me, she is expecting me at home.”

“I am Clyde,” he said as if she’d not spoken a word, and then gave her an expectant look.

“My name is Wren.” She took a second sideways step. “I best be on my way.”

It wasn’t surprising when Clyde came alongside, his bulky form walking in sync with her. “I will ensure you arrive home safely then.”

“I can see my house from here,” Wren said dryly. “There is no need.”

He stopped and touched her forearm. “If I can be of assistance, do not hesitate to ask.” His earnest expression made Wren relax.

“Very well, Clyde. Thank you.”

Wren continued home, shaking her head. She’d asked for a girlfriend, not a butcher’s son who was also, apparently, an admirer. A few moments later, she sifted the dirt in her aunt’s small garden, looking to unearth some potatoes to go with the sausage, when a young woman appeared from the square and walked up the path leading to the house where she stopped.

“Are you Wren?” she asked and smiled, displaying a gap between her front teeth. “I am Laurel. Your Aunt Mairid sent me to tell you she will not be coming home for supper.”

Alarmed, Wren left the garden and hurried to stand near Laurel. “Did something happen to her?”

“No,” Laurel said, shaking her head. “My Aunt Martha invited her to remain. They sent me to come for you to join us.”

“Oh. I did not know Martha had someone living with her,” Wren replied, delighted to meet Laurel, who seemed to have a sunny disposition.

“I have moved in with her during the last sennight. She has been rather poorly and my mother, her sister, asked if I could help care for her.” Laurel waited as Wren put the items she had purchased inside their house and locked the front door. They walked side-by-side to Martha’s house.

The young woman continued her chatter. “Of course, I do not mind. I have two sisters and a brother still at home, which makes our house rather crowded. At Aunt Martha’s, I have my own bedroom. It is quite delightful. I wish I would have thought of it sooner.”

“As you may know, I recently arrived to live with my aunt as well,” Wren said. “She tells me that your mother, your aunt, and she are childhood friends.”

“Thick as thieves, they are,” Laurel exclaimed. When the young woman wove her arm through hers as they walked, Wren smiled.

It was turning out to be quite an interesting day.