Chapter Sixteen
Kyle set the training sword back on the rack, wiping the sweat from his brow, and letting the cool breeze wash through his hair. He knew his brother was right, and it irritated him to no end. Kyle did not like being wrong about anything, and the fact that perhaps he had been was an itch at the back of his mind.
There was a fluttering of birds above, and Kyle glanced their way, following their flight South. How free they were. He watched them pass over the south gate and thought of the freeholder knights who had camped outside the night before and felt his gut twisting. There was no real reason for them to be there, and that disturbed him.
Kyle wiped his brow with his forearm and took in a breath of the northern breeze. There were a multitude of things running through his mind, clawing at him. The Englishman was a problem. He didn’t know why yet, but he knew something was wrong. Then there was Laila. In all honesty, she was his foremost concern. He couldn’t piece together why she had run off the way she had, and with that came the constant self-questioning of what he had done wrong, and why, and where, and when. Women, he knew, were terribly complicated. His brother was right. Sophia would have the answers.
He went down from the training yard and trekked through the mud from the morning dew, letting it splash up against his heels. With each step, he felt the grime of his actions the night before, even though he was still unsure of what he had done wrong. Women. Bah. Sophia would understand. Then again, she was a woman herself. What did he even know? Nothing. The past few days had taught him that.
He approached the rear of the orchard, eyeing Sophia’s door as he went. It seemed open at the crack, and he wondered if perhaps she was out and about. Just a shred of doubt was enough for him to question his actions, and he paused there among the trees, looking around with a boyish uncertainty.
“And what are ye doin’ there?” Sophia’s voice called out to him, and he spun around to see her pulling a piece of fruit from the ground. It was beaten and bruised, yet she still gave it great care, pinching it softly so the juices wouldn’t run amuck along the edge of her garments.
“Looks a bit rough, don’t it?” Kyle called back to her, musing up a smile. “What will ye do with it?”
“Make a dram or two, I suppose,” Sophia answered with a smirk.
“Ah,” Kyle replied, trying to match the friendly expression.
“But ye have nay answered me question,” Sophia went on, a taunting look twinkling in her wise eyes. “Have ye come tae pick fruit? A bit late in the year for that.”
“Aye,” Kyle mused, his eyes falling to the mud. He kicked his feet a bit, watching the splatter of his strike hit out against the neighboring tree trunks, and frowned a bit at the uneven patterning of the sloppy strike. “I suppose I haven’t.”
“Well then,” Sophia said, moving the fruit to a wicker basket that sat beside her on the ground. “I suppose ye best come inside.”
She led him up the rickety stairs and inside the small home, and Kyle felt the familiar, comforting smell of the abode wash over him. Of all the uncertainty in his world, this was the safest, most concrete place he had ever been party to.
“So,” Sophia began, planting her rotting fruits on the small central table one at a time. “Does that lass still bother ye?”
“Bother?” Kyle gawked, and he felt himself blush a bit. “There is nay a bother.”
“Ah,” Sophia said, grinning further as she set the basket up on a nearby hook. “But of course.”
“She just, well she just,” Kyle tried to find the words, squirming a bit in his place. “I dinnae bloody know.”
“Know what?” Sophia asked, her eyebrows raised. “I think ye are a bit confused.”
“Confused?” Kyle asked, squirming even further.
“Aye, confused,” Sophia said, arranging her fruit in a specific line on the center beam of the table.
“And what the bloody hell am I confused about?” Kyle scoffed, kicking his feet against the pressed dirt floor. “I think I know who I be.”
“That’s not what ye’re confused about,” Sophia said, shaking her head with a grin.
“And so, what then?” Kyle asked, letting his masculine expression get the better of him. “Ye know all the answers but refuse tae share them?”
“Ye know the answers just the same,” Sophia laughed back, eyeing the line of fruit she had assembled rather than casting a look his way. Kyle felt demeaned, yet he could not push back against such a powerful figure in his life.
“What is it then?” he asked forcefully, trying to keep himself in line. “What is it ye wish me tae know?”
“Oh, come now,” Sophia scoffed back. “Ye already know everything ye are here tae ask me about.”
“I grow tired o’ these riddles,” Kyle said, dropping down onto the bench that stretched alongside the center table.
“Of that, I have no doubt,” Sophia said, laughing a bit, and began collecting her fruit once again, dropping them into a nearby bucket that rested near a low window. Kyle gave an exasperated sigh and made a show of throwing up his hands.
“Ye are here tae know if ye truly like that lass from down south,” Sophia said, rolling her eyes right back at him. “And ye are here tae know if that is right or wrong since she’s English, and ye are here tae know what ever ye might o’ done wrong last night, is that about it?”
