Fergus touched her white-blonde hair, pushing a lock back from her face. “How could anyone nae care about ye?”
Jeane smiled softly. “I daenae ken, but me father never has. He’s only ever criticized me. Expected me to be perfect. Invincible. And after all these years, ye ken, I’ve never let him see me cry.”
She tilted her head up as if proud.
Fergus just listened, not wanting to interrupt.
“Me father, all he wants is for me to be married. Run a household. He doesnae understand when I wander in the woods or run around outside. He willnae let me have friends.” She paused as her voice started to shake. It was steady when she spoke again. “I had friends once. Such good friends. He encouraged me at first and then ripped them away. He wants me bound. He wants me trapped all the time.”
“And ye daenae wish to be married?” Fergus asked.
“Nae to the men me father wants me to marry. They’re men like him. Men who would criticize me. Who wouldnae understand me.”
“I understand ye.”
She looked up at him curiously. “Do ye, Fergus? Do ye understand that I need me freedom nearly as much as I need bread and water?”
“Aye. I ken ye’re a free-spirit, lass.”
She smiled. “That’s what me friends would have said. That I was a free spirit. They used to accuse me of being a changeling, just like ye did.”
Fergus hummed in the back of his throat.
“I nay longer think ye’re a changelin’.”
“Nay?”
“Nay. I think ye’re a witch.”
Jeane laughed out loud, throwing her head back, and Fergus’ heart ached with how beautiful she looked doing it.
“A witch, aye?”
“Aye. An evil one.”
“Evil? I havenae been evil to ye, Fergus.”
“Haven’t ye? Ye’ve bewitched me, havenae ye?”
She smiled. “You daenae act bewitched.”
“I assure ye, little mouse, I am,” he said honestly. “I’m bewitched by yer beauty, bewitched by that freedom ye want so badly. Every time ye look at me, me heart flips in me chest.”
Jeane looked up at him, and Fergus leaned closer, waiting for an opening to brush his lips across hers.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Jeane’s heart seemed to stutter in her chest as she looked up at Fergus. He had told her that she had bewitched him, but what exactly did he mean by that?
“Stop,” she said, although she did not want him to stop. She wanted him to tell her more about how beautiful she was, how she had enchanted him.
“Aye, all right,” he mumbled, his expression shuttering. “Ye’re right. I cannae give ye what ye need.”
“And what’s that?”
He did not answer, and Jeane frowned up at him.
“We were havin’ such a good conversation. Daenae change on me now.”
