“‘Tis all ye can do. When me parents died, ‘twas all I needed. Me uncle and cousin knew this. They helped me a lot.”
“Ye are very kind to me,” she said.
“And I would be kinder still if ye let me,” he said to her. “If ye need me, send for me. If ye cannae, ride to me uncle’s house. They will get me for ye.”
Ceana couldn’t believe how caring he was. She felt her head clench a little bit. It was too easy to love him.
“I will if ye promise that ye will do the same for me.”
Another man might have laughed and asked for what he would probably need her help but not Torcall. “Aye,” he said to her. “We have a deal.”
“How do ye spend yer days?” he asked her.
“Mornings are filled with chores. Me ma assigns us something each day. A lot of my time is spent with children like Jack.”
“Children like Jack?” he arched a brow.
“Aye,” she nodded, “children with lots of love to give but no one to give it to.”
“So, orphans?”
“Nay, children with lots of love to give but none to give it to,” she repeated.
Torcall shook his head with an amused smile on his face. “Me way is shorter.”
“Me way is better. ‘Tis cruel to call them orphans. It focuses on the negative.”
“I didnae mind bein’ called an orphan. ‘Twas the pity I hated.”
“Pity?”
“Aye,” he said with utter disgust on his face. “‘Twas what made me eager to master the sword at a young age. I wanted to be feared nae pitied.”
“If I ran into ye in the dark, I would be scared.” She shivered. Torcall was so big and strong that she wondered what it would be like to watch him fight. Unwillingly, thoughts of him shirtless and sweaty filled her head, and a blush started to form on her cheeks.
“T’would be wise of ye,” he grinned. Briefly, he smiled and tossed a wink her way. Ceana felt her heart skip and looked away temporarily.
Her blush was becoming apparent, and Ceana thought it best to change the subject.
“And ye?” she asked him. “How do ye spend yer days?”
“Trainin’ with the men and getting into occasional fights.”
“Fights?” she asked with a frown on her face. “Why do ye fight?”
“Well, this is how we train,” he looked at her with a shrug and a smile.
“Do ye get hurt?” She hated to think of him hurt.
“Sometimes,” he admitted, “but I always make sure to hurt the other person more.”
She shivered again. “‘Tis somethin’ I do nae understand.”
“Ye should nae. Women should ne’er have to witness violence.”
“I wish that was so,” she said with a sad voice.
“Ceana?” he said, “I see that sad look in yer eyes, and I do nae like it.”
