Page 25 of Highlanders for the Holidays
“How long have ye been a knight?” she asked.
“I’m a de Ware. I wasbornwith a sword in my hand.”
She chuckled and gave him a poke in the ribs. “That must have been painful for your mother.”
“Oh, aye, the poor woman had eight of us wee knights.”
“Eight? ‘Tisn’t a family. ‘Tis an army.”
“France’s best,” he said proudly. He wrapped his arms tighter around her. “I can’t wait to show ye off to my brothers.”
He began to rattle off their names, too many to remember, giving a humorous description of each. And with each name, Ysenda grew more and more despondent. They sounded so wonderful. But she was never going to meet them. And she had to face that fact.
Indeed, the reason she wouldn’t wish at the Viking well was that she didn’t want to indulge in the false hope that she could somehow keep him for herself.
As she watched the stream in silence, her eyes mirrored the well, filling with water. A secret tear trickled down her cheek as she longed with all her heart for that which she couldn’t have. Then, ashamed of her selfishness, she quickly wiped it away.
His voice was full of affection as he continued speaking about his family. Meanwhile, the water gurgled over the rocks. The ice at the edges of the rill made soft cracks as it yielded to the sun. Snowmelt dripped from the trees.
Ysenda closed her eyes, wishing she could stay here forever, enfolded in his arms.
She wished a lot of things.
But what she’d said was true. She didn’t believe in wishes.
