Page 26 of The Archer’s Wish

“How did Gowan fair?” Camden’s voice broke through her thoughts, making her jump.

“I told him he could return to his duties in the morning,” she said ensuring to paste a smile onto her lips. “He tried to hide it, but he’s already done so.”

Camden chuckled, “Still, that he waited so long, ye must have scared him into submission.”

“Aye, I did.” She studied her cousin then, watching the way he sorted herbs with easy movements, oblivious to the tempest inside her. After a moment she asked, “Do ye ever plan to marry?”

His brows shot up. For a heartbeat she thought he’d drop the jar in his hands. “I suppose so. Once I find the right lass, I do plan to.”

She gave him a dubious look. “Does it nay worry ye, remaining alone? There are plenty of bonny lasses in the village who find ye suitable. And yet, ye court none of them.”

Camden sighed and stared at the ceiling as if seeking divine rescue. “I have nae had time for it.” A shrug. “Why are ye so curious about my plans for a wife?” His eyes suddenly widened. “Did someone ask about me? Was it that contrary woman, Sorcha?”

Beitris burst into laughter at his horrified expression. “Nae. I only wonder if men think on such matters as often as women do. I am considering that I should marry soon but I have nae the faintest idea how to begin.”

“Find a suitable man and marry him. ’Tis nae difficult.”

She arched a brow. “Should I beat him over the head with a tree branch and drag him to the clergy?”

Before Camden could retort, the door burst open and a woman hurried in, a young boy on her hip. His shrill cries echoed painfully in the small space, and Beitris’s heart twisted as she saw the odd angle of his dangling arm.

Instinct took hold. Camden stepped forward, quickly and gently taking the child, while Beitris reached for the mother’s trembling hands, soothing her with soft words. The chaos of the moment swept through the apothecary, pushing aside her earlier thoughts.

The village square buzzed around Liam, but none of it settled in his mind. Not the vendors calling out their wares, nor the children chasing one another with the boundless energy he once possessed. Even the distant sound of the smith’s hammer, usually a familiar, grounding rhythm, felt muted beneath the weight pressing across his chest.

He’d left Beitris not long ago, but her scent still clung to him. Sweet herbs. Warm skin. Something soft and womanly he couldn’t name for fear of what it meant.

Fool, he told himself. He had no business thinking of her when he could barely walk from one end of the square to the other without stopping. She deserved better than a man held together by stubbornness and half-healed bone.

But the memory still came, unwelcome and irresistible, of her lips parted in surprise, her breath warm against his cheek, the way her eyes had widened when he pulled her down over him.

Aye, that moment.

It had set his blood aflame, and worse, it had carved a mark he could not scrape away no matter how he tried.

He rounded a corner, intending to fetch a new binding for his leg, and found himself stopping without thinking. Through the open door of the apothecary, he spotted her.

Beitris.

Standing beside Camden, her head bent, her red hair loose around her shoulders. They were in conversation, at ease in each other’s company.

Liam leaned his shoulder against the wall, unable to look away.

She was light. In a world that had gone dim for him, she brought brightness simply by existing. And that, more than anything, terrified him.

A woman like her could make him believe in things he’d long since discarded. Healing beyond the flesh. A future not marked by pain. Even love. Dangerous thoughts for a man who had no right to them.

Before he could gather himself, a woman rushed inside with a crying child. Beitris moved instantly, calm, steady, soothing the woman as Camden took the child. His chest tightened at the sight.

She deserved a healthy man. Not one who winced when turning too quickly. Not one who feared waking in the night screaming like a bairn. Not one who wanted her despite it all.

He exhaled sharply and pushed away from the wall, for some reason guilt sweeping through him. He should leave her be. Stop thinking of her. If he were a wiser man, he’d avoid her until the festival ended.

But he’d had fought wars, faced death, and stood against men twice his size. He’d never yet figured out how to walk away from the one thing that made him feel alive again.

*

The music reached Beitris long before she stepped outside. The lilting notes of fiddles weaving through the air, tangled with the mouthwatering scent of roasting boar, honeyed pastries, and spiced root vegetables. The late sunlight bathed the village in gold, slipping behind the distant hills as a cool breeze swept through the square, lifting the edge of her shawl. She clutched it tighter about her shoulders, drawing comfort from the familiar wool as she crossed the road in search of Ailith.