“Aye, lad,” Magnus said, patting the enormous head. “I’m pleased to see ye, too. How about we go see yer mistress, eh?”
Snaffles’ tail whipped around like a windmill as he started off in the direction of the kitchen garden. Magnus followed, the scent of freshly turned soil filling his nose as he rounded the corner.
He found Isabelle on her knees with her back to him, hands in the dirt, busy turning over soil in one of the vegetable patches. Aiden, dark-haired and serious, crouched next to her, mimicking her actions with his own trowel. They didn’t notice Magnus’s arrival until Snaffles barrelled into them with a happy yelp, announcing Magnus’s return.
Isabelle gasped, falling onto her side with a soft oomph before breaking into laughter as Snaffles began to lick her face. His heart clenched at the sight of her—a smiling, laughing Isabelle covered in freckles and dirt—and he found himself grinning idiotically.
“Snaffles!” she managed, her voice muffled by the dog’s fur, attempting to push the hound away.
Snaffles finally obeyed, backing off and prancing around with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. Straightening her clothes and swiping a few strands of hair from her face, Isabelle turned and her gaze fell on Magnus. She scrambled to her feet.
“Magnus! You’re back!”
A smile that warned his heart lit her face. Before he could respond, she rushed over to him, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him full on the lips.
Magnus froze. Shock coursed through him, leaving him stunned and breathless, like a sparrow caught in a falcon’s grasp. Her lips were soft against his, tasting of sunshine and a sweetness that was uniquely Isabelle’s. A rush of warmthflooded through him, chasing away the chill of the late afternoon air as, for a timeless, ecstatic moment, the world spun blissfully out of orbit.
But it was a fleeting, impulsive act, and it was over before it began.
Isabelle pulled back quickly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. There was something in her eyes—a shock, realization, fear perhaps?—as she hastily disentangled herself from him.
“I... um...I’m sorry,” she stuttered, taking several steps back. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, her eyes darted around, not meeting his.
Magnus was most definitelynotsorry. His lips tingled where she’d kissed him and a painful ache had lit in his groin. Dear God, what was this woman doing to him? He wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her back, kiss her like he’d ached to ever since he’d met her, kiss her until she melted into his arms and gave herself to him.
But the moment was over and Isabelle had retreated back into herself. And besides, Aiden was watching with wide-eyed fascination.
“Dinna be,” he finally managed to say, breathless. “I could get used to welcomes like that.”
Her face flushed again, but the faintest hint of a smile quirked her lips. “What can I say? You were missed.”
Magnus chuckled. “I was? And here’s me thinking the dog is the only one who likes me.”
Aiden, who had been watching the entire exchange with the keen interest of a ten-year-old who’d been thoroughlysheltered from the world, finally found his voice. “Are ye going to get married now?”
Magnus choked on his chuckle. “It doesnae quite work that way, lad.”
He cast a sidelong glance at Isabelle, who was blinking rapidly and biting her lower lip. She seemed torn between mortification and amusement. Magnus felt an urge to kiss away that troubled look, to run his fingers through that silky hair, to lay her down and—
He cleared his throat, desperately trying to yank his thoughts into some semblance of order. He bounced the bag of coins he’d gotten from the horse trader on his palm. “My trip to Hodwell was a success.”
Isabelle looked at the bag. “Where did you get that?”
“I sold the horse.”
“What? Why?”
“Because if I’m going to get what I need from Armand of Torloch, I’ll need money.”
“Why? What are you planning to buy?”
“This isnae for buying things with. It’s a bribe.” He could think of only two ways of getting the information he needed out of the blacksmith who had made the sword. Beating it out of him as he’d done with the blacksmith in Hodwell, or paying for it. After what had happened yesterday, paying for it seemed by far the best option.
“Ah! Good, there ye both are!” said a voice. “I’ve been looking for ye.”
Abbot Oswin stepped out into the kitchen garden and came hurrying over, holding up his habit to keep it fromtrailing in the soil. The light reflected off his tonsure as he reached them and bobbed his head.
“Good news! I’ve managed to secure ye transport to Torloch, as ye requested. Sean MacTavish brought in a cartload of leeks and parsnips for us this morning and he’ll be returning to his farm just outside Torloch. He’s agreed to give ye a ride. He’ll drop ye off with Mistress Kearnan at the boarding house there. I often send pilgrims and travelers her way, so she’ll take care of ye.”
