And while no one would ever label Lord Alek askind, he hasn’t been cruel to me or to Nora. He saved our lives! He could’ve abandonedBriarlock altogether, instead of bringing his business to me when Jax’s actions upset him.
The warmer weather doesn’t stop the rain from falling, and it doesn’t stop the chores in the barn. I’ve been so busy in the bakery that much of what I could accomplish in the daytime has now been shifted to the evening. Mucking stalls is miserable in any weather, but particularly so when I have to push a wheelbarrow through the mud. The barn is only half done, and I’m all the way soaked, my hair a sodden rope hanging down over my shoulder. Once the sun goes down, the nights are a reminder that winter isn’t a distant memory yet, and I’m shivering while I push the wheelbarrow back inside to clean out the cow’s area. A persistent dripping is somewhere in the corner behind the henhouse, and I don’t want to investigate to find out how bad it is. It’s a miracle that the barn hasn’t fallen down entirely.
A scratch at the wood overhead makes me freeze and look up. Somewhere out in the night, I hear an animal screech, and I jump. We had foxes get into the henhouse last year, and I always worry about wolves in the woods. A gust of wind blasts the barn, and it seems like every wooden panel rattles around me. Another leak starts in an opposite corner, a persistentdrip-drip-drip.
I scowl. Maybe the barn will crash down on me rightnowand spare me a lot of trouble.
A nagging thought in the back of my head screams that I could pay for repairs from the money I’d set aside for Jax.
I tell that nagging voice to go away.
Another gust of wind, and that animal shrieks to the night again, the sound faintly echoing against the mountains, followed by a loud roar of thunder. Muddy May stomps nervously.
“It’s all right,” I murmur to her.
The barn door creaks, and I’m sure Nora is bolting out here because she’s scared of the thunder, though she’d never admit it. But when I turn to look, a man in a hooded oilcloth cloak is coming through the door. I only have one lantern with me, so I can’t see his face, but the shadows and the thunder and the darkness serve to make him a thousand times more terrifying.
I suck in a breath and grip the pitchfork, lifting it menacingly.
He steps closer and shoves back the hood. Lord Alek’s red hair looks black in the lantern light, raindrops gleaming on his cloak. The corner of his mouth turns up in a bemused smile. “I’ve never been attacked with apitchfork.”
I lower the pointed end and swallow. “I didn’t expect you to come to the barn.”
“Nora told me where to find you.”
I wince at the thought of the muddy courtyard, the door that barely slides. “You could have waited in the bakery, my lord.”
“I know.” He steps closer. “The rain has never bothered me.”
Spoken like someone who can afford an oilcloth cloak. I shiver and turn to shovel another pitchfork full of straw. “Do you have another message for me to carry?”
“Not today.” He pauses, looking around. “Your barn has fallen into disrepair, Callyn.”
He says this disapprovingly, so I shove the pitchfork at another soiled pile. That persistent dripping sounds like it’s mocking me now. “Well, I’m a baker, not a carpenter.”
“And the world is luckier for it.” He looks around again. “I’ll send a worker to do the repairs.”
He says this so casually, but I stop and stare at him like he’s addled. “What? Why?”
He stares at me like I am. “Because I can?”
I turn back to the mucking. If he doesn’t have a message, I’m not sure what he’s doing here. Not knowing leaves me off balance and uncertain. “I’ll get to it eventually. Don’t trouble yourself, my lord.”
“It’s no trouble. I can’t tell people about a wondrous little bakery in Briarlock if they arrive and it looks as though the farmhouse will collapse at any given moment.”
I flush. “Ah, so it’s to keep up your reputation. Perhaps you could simply stop telling them.”
“Are you displeased with your newfound popularity?”
“I don’t need charity.”
“It’s not charity.”
His voice sounds closer, and I look up to find him right beside me. My heart beats a steady thrum in my chest to find him so close. He’s taller than Tycho, taller than Jax even. And while Lord Alek isn’t strikingly handsome, there’s something about him that makes you look twice. Maybe it’s the dark look in his eye or the strong set of his shoulders—or maybe it’s the casual arrogance that seems to say that he might not be dangerous rightnow, but he just needs a second.
I shiver again, and this time I’m not sure if it’s the cold or if it’s him.
“You’re not dressed for this weather,” he says.
