His gaze grew earnest. “You excelled where you were gifted. That’s what all people who achieve great things have done. You leaned into your strength and accomplished feats few people would attempt.”
She raised her brows at him, trying not to let the warmth of his words stir the parts of her that longed for them to be true. For as long as she could remember, she’d worked so hard to be seen as strong. Her family and close friends knew her weaknesses and vulnerabilities. But among most of the village—especially the other guards—she’d spent most of her life proving her strength and savviness and wisdom as a leader.
But something in her pushed against his praise. “You haven’t heard enough to know if that’s correct or not.”
He motioned toward her shoulder, where she usually kept a quiver of arrows slung. “You’re a crack shot with that bow and arrow, a fact I can attest to.” His hand moved to the center of his middle. “And you’ve attained the role of leading this entire band of guards and bringing in meat for who knows how many people. All of this as a woman no older than—what? Two and twenty?”
His praise wove through her, seeping around the raw edges of her confidence and shoring them up, soothing the doubt that always plagued her in moments of weakness.
She tried to summon a modicum of fire when he mentionedher gender—she hated when men thought she should defer to them and their abilities simply because she was a woman. But there was no sneer in his tone. Nothing but respect shone in his gaze.
Well, notnothing.
She didn’t dare rely on her ability to read what else shimmered there. Attraction, maybe?
But could there be more? Could anything more exist between them? He came from such a different world. Would he be willing to leave it all for her?
Or would she be willing to leave Laurent for him?
The thought smacked her with a force that made her blink. She’d never considered leaving this place. Not truly. No one left Laurent, not ever. They had everything they needed here. There were enough families within the community to provide matches for those who chose to marry. And those who didn’t, like her uncle, simply didn’t marry. She’d always thought she would follow in her uncle’s steps. But that no longer seemed desirable.
“Brielle?” Evan’s voice broke through her churning thoughts. He touched her arm, and only then did she realize she was swaying. She shifted her feet to better brace herself.
“What is it? You’ve lost three shades of color.” Worry lined his brow.
She forced herself to relax and summon a smile to reassure him. “Nothing. I only...” She couldn’t say what she’d been thinking. In truth, she had no reason to think it.
Sure, Evan had sat beside her and shared bits of his life as they went through his packs. But maybe that had only stemmed from his desire to fill the long, dull hours of sitting on a fur in the dark storage room.
Maybe her attraction to him was simply because Evan was an outsider, not one of the men she’d known since they toddled together in infant gowns.
He was still studying her, waiting for her to finish her statement. She shook her head. “I’m well.”
His eyes softened into a look so gentle, she would never have thought a man could manage it. Especially not a man as strong and virile as this one. His thumb on her arm rubbed a soft stroke, and she wanted to drop her hand and let his slide down her arm until their fingers clasped.
But she couldn’t do that out here where all could see. In truth, even this simple touch would draw questions if anyone looked their way.
Evan must have realized that, for he pulled his hand back. Then his gaze slid past her to something over her shoulder. His brows knit as he watched, and the sound of young voices told her what he must be seeing. Widow Cameron would be bringing the children to watch the trading.
She turned to watch the procession and grinned at the sight of the little ones straggling across the courtyard. Marcellus must have come to tell them about the trading party, because he led the way with a boy on either side of him. He loved having news to tell, and he seemed to be adding layers of detail to whatever story he was imparting now, enough to enthrall the lads around him.
She’d always known on some level that Marcellus didn’t think the way she and the others of their age did. He’d always been fanciful and was not always very grounded. Even when they were youngsters playing Leap the Frog and Steal the Falcon, she would abandon her games and lean in like these lads as he spun a wild tale. She finally realized thatonly half of his stories were based in reality, but the other half were so fascinating, and the tales lingered in her mind for weeks afterward.
He caught sight of her and Evan and paused in what he was saying to wave at them, a grin stretched wide across his face. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled across the courtyard between them. “Evan, come see the trading.” He pointed to the cluster of hagglers against the far wall.
Evan’s chuckle rumbled through her. He raised his hand to wave, then motioned for Marcellus to go on without him. As the youngsters continued their trek, Evan chuckled again. “If ever you’re feeling down, he’s a good one to lift the spirits.”
She let her grin slip out. “He is that.” She’d not grinned half as much before Evan came, which proved he must have that same ability Marcellus possessed to lift spirits. Although in a very different way than Marcellus.
They watched the children scamper across the remainder of the grassy area, two of the youngest ones spinning in circles as they moved forward. Trading days always spread joy through the camp, and the little ones took quickly to the festive atmosphere.
She sent a glance to Evan, and a wistful expression filled his gaze as he watched the children. She’d expected a smile to play at his mouth, not the sadness that turned the corner of his eyes downward.
Did something about the group stir unpleasant memories for him? He’d said he and his wife had no children, but were there some who had been lost? Perhaps he was thinking of his own brother who’d died. Maybe whatever memories these young ones sparked hadn’t been unpleasant at the time, butnow raised a longing for what had once been. She wanted desperately to ask him, but that felt like pushing too deep. Not unless he invited her into that place.
“Brielle.” A familiar voice snatched her from her thoughts, and she spun to see Andre sprinting toward them. From anyone else, running would raise her to alarm, but that boy ran everywhere he went. She’d never seen anyone with more energy than her baby brother.
“Papa says we can have a feast and use the big room. He’s invited Itchka and the other man to stay and eat with us.” Andre reached them and doubled over, hands on his knees as he worked to catch his breath. He peered up at her with a toothy grin. “Won’t that be fun?”
