Page 66 of An Archer's Redemption

He wasn’t anything like I expected.

When we first met, he was cloaked in darkness and shadow, giving the impression his life would likewise be veiled in secrets, but that hadn’t been the case. A few sips of courage had him recounting a childhood in the countryside with his older brother and two younger sisters. He laughed as he described antics that must’ve driven his mother mad.

As we talked, I realized his life—at least his life before donning his robe—had been similar to mine. He talked of tending his family’s land and herds. I didn’t have brothers and sisters to terrorize, nor did I tend livestock or till soil, but I did have routine and duty to my family and our business. I understood his upbringing and admired his openness and quiet strength.

My mind wandered to his square jaw.

Enough of that, I told myself.You barely know the man.

But a flush flared through me again as I saw his eyes in my mind.

I pulled the covers over my head and laughed before rolling over and drifting off to sleep.

Chapter 27

Liam

The morning began as the previous one had, with annoyingly chipper sunlight streaming through the window. I lay awake, staring out the window, not really seeing anything. When it was clear sleep would not return, I released an annoyed huff, wiped my eyes, and rose.

I was supposed to work today.

In a family-run inn, there were no days off.

Ma had made that up last night when she saw a glimmer of hope that I might finally have an attraction to someone other than a cleaning rag or chopping block. She’d been nagging me for years to “find a good man,” though I never could understand her rush. I was happy working with my parents and the inn, happy seeing guests every day and making them laugh, happy being part of something special.

Besides, most men wanted to find a goodwoman. Those who might lean in my direction too often acted like scared rabbits or stuffed-up braggarts. I was sure things were no different inlarger towns, but in a tiny speck like Oliver, the menu held even fewer options.

But the night before, when Seth’s persistent smile made my heart flutter, thoughts of the inn and cooking and guests were replaced by deep pools of brown and locks of ebony, with the cutest tiny curls at their ends.

I giggled when I realized I was twisting my own locks with my fingers as I daydreamed.

Despite my mother’s unfathomable grace, I knew my day off would include a trip to the market to purchase essentials for the evening meal. There could be no respite from our guests’ stomachs. I donned my dress, fumbling as I put one arm in the wrong sleeve.

After a quick visit to the kitchen to grab a steaming biscuit and affectionate kiss from Ma, I ambled out of the inn. It was too early for the stalls to be open, but I had nowhere else to be and enjoyed the thought of an aimless stroll on a chilly day.

I’d made it halfway to the docks when the cheerful squeal of children grabbed my attention. Someone had worked a pack of little monsters into a frenzy. They were screaming and laughing with reckless abandon. The merry sound made me smile, so I turned to follow it, curious to see what had the little rascals so energized.

I rounded the corner of the apothecary and stopped mid-stride. My grin widened at the scene before me. A tall man facing away from me had a toddler attached to each of his legs while a third had her tiny arms and legs firmly wrapped around his waist. Two more ran in circles around the man, poking him playfully with their “swords,” which were little more than willow branches that bent as the boys waved them.

A slender woman, her silver mane blowing wildly in the winter breeze, sat some distance away. Her laughter rose above even the children’s shouts.

The man let out a roar and raised his hands, fingers crooked like claws, as he lifted one leg in a dramatic stomp. The attached toddler squealed with delight and screamed, “Get him! He’s trying to flee!”

The two swordsmen renewed their assault.

My own laughter joined the chorus.

The sillier the man acted, the grander his gestures, the louder the children’s giggles and screams became. At the sound of a newcomer’s amusement, the man turned, and our eyes met. The monster’s mock snarl morphed into a warm, broad smile as Seth straightened, then bowed, a gesture made even more comical by his dangling darlings.

“M’lord, save me! I am but an innocent beast attacked by these ruffians. Please, have mercy, fine sir!” Seth’s plea caused the thin woman to double over with laughter and sent the children into a frenzy.

High-pitched cries of, “No! He’s mine. He’s a monster,” rang through the yard.

I raised both hands in surrender. “Poor monster, you’re on your own in this fight.”

I stepped around the fray and sat beside the older woman. We laughed until tears streamed down both our cheeks. When the swordsmen finally found their opening, the monster stumbled to his knees while the squealing barnacles still clung to his legs. He released cries and moans of pain, then dramatically uttered, “Oh, if I only had more time to live.”

I laughed so hard that my side hurt as the children cheered in victory.

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