“It is trade,” Maxwell corrected, though he felt an odd satisfaction at her delight.
A vendor called out, “Fresh oatcakes. Hot off the stone.”
Another shouted, “Heather honey. Sweet as sin.”
Ariella’s eyes widened at the colors, the bustle, the noise. She moved toward a stall draped in bright cloth, fingers hovering over ribbons and pins. She stopped to watch a woman weighing flour. She leaned toward a basket of candied nuts like it might contain treasure.
Maxwell stayed close, silent and watchful, letting her drift while he tracked the edges of the crowd. If O’Douglas had eyes here, they would be subtle. A stranger watching too long. A familiar face asking the wrong questions.
Ariella paused at a honey stall. The vendor lifted a small spoon. “Taste, me lady. Wildflower honey. Good for the throat.”
Ariella tasted it and sighed. “Oh. That is lovely.”
Maxwell watched her mouth as she licked a bit of honey from her lip, then looked away sharply.
Next came a tart stall. Berry tarts cooling on a board, crusts golden and flaky. Ariella chose one and took a careful bite, eyes closing as if she were praying.
Maxwell felt heat curl in his stomach at her expression.
She turned, holding the tart out slightly. “Do ye want some.”
“Nay.”
Ariella lifted a brow. “Ye daenae eat sweets.”
“I eat what keeps a man alive.”
“That is a grim way to live,” she said, then took another bite in defiance.
They reached a stall with candied nuts and sugar twists. The vendor, a young man with a grin too big for his face, held up a stick coated in glossy sugar. “Try this, me lady.”
Ariella sniffed suspiciously. “It looks… sticky.”
“It is,” the vendor said proudly.
Ariella leaned back. “I daenae want it.”
Maxwell stared at her. “Ye just ate honey and berry tart.”
“That was refined,” she said, entirely serious.
And Maxwell felt the urge to laugh and hated it.
“Stubborn,” he murmured.
Ariella’s eyes snapped to his. “I am nae stubborn.”
“Aye,” he said softly. “Ye are.”
Heat flared in her cheeks. She glared playfully, like she wanted to bite him and kiss him in the same breath.
Maxwell’s pulse jumped.
Before he could think better of it, he reached out, took the sticky sweet from the vendor, and bit into it himself.
Ariella’s eyes widened in outrage. “Maxwell.”
He chewed slowly, never breaking her gaze. The sweet was cloying, stuck to his teeth, and he did not care.
