The woman nodded, turning to the man beside her. “Rory! Middlin’ bread and two oatcakes.”
Thalia took her coin purse out of her satchel and paid the woman what was owed her. She moved down to the next counter, where the younger woman was busy wrapping up the order right before her own.
“Thank ye, Alec. I’ll see ye tomorrow.” She handed the parcel to the man, then turned her smile on Thalia. “Good mornin’. I’ll have yer order packed shortly.”
“I’m nae in a rush,” Thalia answered with a wave of her hand. She looked around again as the woman began wrapping her order in brown paper. “This is a lovely place. It’s me first time here.”
“Thank ye.” The woman’s grin widened. “It’s me parents’ place. That’s them there.” She pointed at the older couple. “I’m their apprentice, but one day, this will be mine.”
Thalia felt the woman’s pride as if it were her own. She felt the same about her work as a healer. There was so much joy to be had in having a life that you could truly make yours.
The woman folded the paper and tied a linen string along the top to hold it closed. “There ye are. Come back and see us again!” she chirped.
“I will. Thank ye,” Thalia replied and left the bakery with her food.
She opened the wrapping, taking care not to tear it, and nibbled on the oatcakes. She hummed, savoring the sweetness as she made her way down the street.
She stopped by another shop, peering at the wooden dolls in the display. Their painted faces peered up through their woven yarn hair, and she examined them carefully. They were dressed very prettily in tiny gowns.
Perhaps I’ll grab one for Daisy before I leave.
As she turned to leave, her shoulder bumped into a man who had been walking in the opposite direction.
“Oh!” she cried out in surprise. “Pardon me, sir. I didnae see ye there.”
The man looked at her, his dark eyes trailing down her body in a way that made her want to run away and hide.
“Apologies, me Lady,” he replied in a gruff voice.
Thalia waited for him to do or say something else, but he only stared at her as if he were waiting for her to make the next move. She had been pressed up against the glass during their collision, and now he stood between her and the open street. A few people passed by, but no one bothered to give them attention.
She tilted up her chin and tried to keep her voice steady as she announced, “Excuse me, I have other things to attend to.”
She pushed past him, and to her relief, he let her go. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she forced herself to take deep breaths as she found the shop she had been looking for.
A small wooden sign hung atop the door, labeled,Weaver. She stepped inside, letting out a heavy sigh as she did. There were yarns and a few bolts of wool along one wall. It was small, but it would do.
“Good mornin’,” the older woman at the counter greeted cheerfully. She smiled, the wrinkles around her cheeks deepening. “Let me ken if ye need anything, dear.”
Thalia nodded at her, giving her a small smile.
Her encounter with the man had shaken her, and now that she was away from him, her head began to clear. Her breathing slowed, and she found it easy to move on from the incident.
She went over to the array of fabrics and began examining them. They were all wool, with a wide range of colors to choose from. One of the plaids caught her eye. Woven blue, brown, and green that would be quite lovely for a skirt.
Her mind began sifting through the possibilities. She could have a solid color for the bodice, and the plaid was similar to the pattern Finlay often wore. If it matched his colors, it would perhaps be enough of a statement to show her uncle, and maybe Finlay himself, that she was serious about this betrothal.
She heard the door squeak open behind her, but she kept her attention on the fabrics.
“Good mornin’,” she heard the older woman greet the new customer.
Footsteps approached her, but she paid them no mind until she heard a gruff voice say, “Me Laird suggests ye buy red for the wedding. He thinks it will look best on ye.”
Thalia jumped back as she recognized the voice from a moment ago. She stumbled back into a nearby table and gripped it to regain her balance.
“Yer Laird?” she gasped, willing her heart to slow down. She had met many of the servants there, but perhaps she had not met all of them yet. “Ah… I’m sorry. I daenae recall seein’ ye before at MacAinsley Castle.”
The man pursed his lips. “That’s because I daenae answer to Laird MacAinsley.”
