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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

T here was a lot that Torrin wanted to ask Valora, but it didn’t seem like the right time for any of it.

The subject of their parents had shifted the mood between them into something more intimate, but also heavier.

It was a heavy burden that they both carried, and Torrin had meant for that day to be fun, a way for Valora to meet the people who may soon be her subjects—not for them to fall back into their grief.

So, as he took her back to the village square, he dragged her to a stall that he knew and loved.

The moment the woman behind it, Ella, saw him, she gave him a big smile that stretched her ruddy cheeks.

She was an older woman, though no more than a decade older than Torrin himself.

Even so, she looked much younger than her years, and the only thing that gave away her age were the gray hairs around her temples.

"Welcome, me laird!" she called over the bustle of the market. It was busy at that time of the day, people running about to finish their daily chores while others enjoyed a simple day at the market, purchasing goods and food. The latter was what Torrin had in mind, and so he had taken Valora to Isla, knowing she would never disappoint. "It’s good tae see ye again. Are ye stayin’? "

"Nay, nay," said Torrin with a wave of his hand. "Nay this time. We must return tae the keep."

Ella’s gaze fell on Valora then, and her smile only widened. "Are ye the lady who took care o’ our wee Jamie?"

Valora glanced at Torrin from the corner of her eye, as though she didn’t know what and if she should respond. Torrin took the lead, taking a step forward at the same time so that he was leaning over Ella’s fragrant stall.

"That’s her," he told her in a conspiratorial tone. "She’s too humble tae say it."

"Well, thank ye," Ella told Valora. "That wee laddie is runnin’ around all day. I keep tellin’ him, watch herself, Jamie, but he never listens."

"I dinnae think he listened tae me, either," Valora confessed. "Though he agreed he would stop."

"Dinnae believe a word from his mouth," said Isla. "That’s what he says tae everyone, but he never keeps his promises."

The two women laughed together, much to Torrin’s delight. The people in the village seemed to have taken a liking to her already. Word traveled fast in those parts, and Torrin was willing to bet everyone in the village knew it had been Valora who had cleaned and dressed his wounds.

"Well, what can I get ye, me laird?" Ella asked him then, pointing to the array of delicacies on her stall. There was everything from bannocks and pastries to cured meat.

"I wanted Miss MacNeacail here tae try yer pastries," said Torrin. They were always sweet, flaky, decadent in a way that even the cooks in the castle couldn’t replicate.

"I have apple an’ pear an’ thyme," said Ella. "Take yer pick."

"Two o’ each," said Torrin, but Valora turned to him with a stunned look.

"Who will eat all that?"

"If ye dinnae, then I will," Torrin said, knowing himself. He could not resist those damned things. Then, he turned back to Ella and added, "An’ some meat. Did yer husband make it?"

"Och aye," said Ella. "Ye ken how he is with these things."

Torrin did, indeed, know how her husband was when it came to curing meat. He had honed it down to almost an art, in a way no one else Torrin knew had.

Truly, I should ask them tae work fer me in the castle.

But then he would be taking all that joy away from the villagers, and that was the last thing he wanted. He would limit himself to visiting them and eating at the village—and perhaps packing some more to take with him to the castle when he left.

As they spoke, Torrin saw a giant, shaggy dog, its fur almost covering his eyes walking towards them.

"Ach, there ye are again," Ella told the dog, gently shooing it away. "Did I nae give ye enough food afore? Ye want more now?"

The dog paid her no mind. It was far more interested in the pastries and the meat Torrin had in his hands, and it showed its interest by circling his legs repeatedly, trying to get his attention. From under its fur, Torrin could see its eyes, big and brown and pleading.

Before Torrin could try to command it to sit so he could give him a bit of the meat, it jumped right on him, sending him tumbling backwards onto the street.

Torrin stumbled, barely managing to hold himself upright as the dog wagged its tail happily and licked at his hands, trying to get to the meat, forcing Torrin to step back and forth, left and right, in some sort of ridiculous dance, in which the dog was a leading and he was following.

All around them, the market erupted in laughter, Valora joining in with the rest of them as they watched Torrin struggle. No one went to help, though whether because they thought he was too proud to accept their help or because they simply found it too amusing, he didn’t know.

All he knew was that he was covered from head to toe in dog hair and slobber.

In the end, it was Valora who stepped in, gently trying to guide the dog away from Torrin.

But the dog was almost as big as she was and twice as stubborn when it came to food.

As the three of them stepped around each other, both Torrin and Valora trying to avoid stepping on the dog itself, and they were soon all tangled in this dance, all three of them threatening to topple over.

One wrong step had Valora falling right into Torrin’s arms and in favor of catching her, Torrin let go of the food he was holding.

Pastries and meat flew everywhere around him, bits of flaky pastry raining around them like snow, and Torrin barely had time to wrap his arms around Valora and ensure she wouldn’t topple right over.

Not for the first time that day, they were plastered against each other, and as Valora craned her neck to look at Torrin, they were breathing the same air for what seemed to him like an eternity.

The moment stretched and stretched, time losing its meaning. Torrin could have stayed there forever, looking into Valora’s eyes, crinkled as they were in the corners by that smile she was still bearing. He couldn’t help but laugh, as well.

In front of them, the dog sat proudly, as though it had orchestrated the entire thing just to get the two of them close. After all that, Torrin supposed it deserved a good treat, and so he laid all the food in front of it—especially the meat, which was the main thing he was after.

Torrin didn’t know who was more delighted—the dog or the villagers who cheered when it began to eat, hungrily devouring the cured meats. Turning to Ella and throwing a coin at her, Torrin said, "Throw him a sausage too, will ye?"

"Me laird, I think that’s plenty fer the poor thing. How much will it eat?"

"Well, it’s hungry," said Torrin, leaning down to scratch behind its ear. The dog not only allowed it, but it nuzzled Torrin’s hand, eager for more.

"Daein’ all this will make him follow ye around all day," Ella warned.

"Ach, that’s fine," said Torrin dismissively. "What’s the worst that can happen?"

It turned out the worst that could happen was the dog following them around all afternoon, just like Ella had predicted. No matter where he and Valora went, the dog was right behind, like an extension of them, like a shadow. And of course, Valora took pity on the creature, much to Torrin’s chagrin.

"But me laird, he has chosen ye," she told him, her eyes just as wide and pleading as the dog’s. "Look at him! He’s been right behind us this whole time. He willnae leave us from his sight."

"Aye," said Torrin. "That’s precisely what I fear."

"He clearly chose ye," Valora insisted. "Ye cannae simply leave him here! We must take him with us."

"Take him with us?" asked Torrin with a raised eyebrow. "Where? Tae the castle?"

"Well, where else?"

"Absolutely nae," he said. The last thing they needed was yet another animal roaming around in the courtyard and making a mess. "We dinnae need a dog at the castle."

"The bairns will love him," Valora said.

"Nay."

"It can help!"

"How can a dog help, Miss MacNeacail?"

"Well, ye can teach it tae dae tasks around the castle!" Valora said, and the certainty and enthusiasm with which she spoke made Torrin chuckle. "An’ even if ye cannae, then it’s just a poor soul! A wee creature! We should help it since we can."

"There is naethin’ wee about this beast," Torrin pointed out, though he had to admit that the way the dog was looking at him whenever he turned his head to glance at it was almost enough to convince him. "I’m nae takin’ the dog."

"We’re takin’ the dog."

"We’re nae daein’ anythin’," said Torrin. "An’ I’m nae takin’ the dog."