Maeve rattled off a few snippets of good news, extolling her students’ intelligence and accomplishments.
Giving her shoulders a squeeze, her father said, “Those students are lucky to have you while they do.”
“I’m proud of their progress,” she said. Even though the position at the little school wasn’t her first, second, third, or fourth choice, the students gave her something to do. Otherwise, she’d be stuck here at home, no doubt roped into mucking stables or something equally dreadful. Although small, the school and its students gave her…purpose.
“You haven’t heard back from Dundúran yet?”
“No, unfortunately. I’m not convinced Sorcha conveyed the urgency.”
“Perhaps not. You know she’d enjoy keeping us all here. Well, perhaps best to write yourself, then, chickadee.”
“I will, papa. I’ll sort something out.”
“Very good.” And with a kiss to her head, he opened the front door for her, the two of them walking into a warm home full of savory smells.
Although Maeve aimed to carve a unique place for herself in the world, there were times it was a relief to fade into the background of her large family. Not every chair was taken around the dining table, but there were enough that she could eat dinner unbothered and retire up to her room quickly.
Her father was right, of course. She needed to write to Lady Aislinn herself.
As much as her mother and Sorcha wanted the family to stay together, her father had always encouraged them to see the world before settling down. He was right to encourage her not to get too comfortable.
And besides, all this worrying over Mister Soren just wouldn’t do. The last time she’d allowed herself to be distracted by a man, nothing had turned out well. Maeve was determined not torepeat her mistakes.
Sitting at her little desk, Maeve pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment to begin drafting her letter.
Dearest Lady Aislinn,
I hope this letter finds you and Lord Hakon well. I hope we might enjoy a visit soon and hear all about your visit to Kaldebrak.
I am writing you now in regards to Sorcha’s last letter. I would like to finish the term in my current position, but come wintertime, I am at your disposal.
In the interim, I was considering—perhaps your ladyship would like to visit the school this summer? The children would all love to see you, and if Princess Isolde should be visiting in summertime again, she may enjoy meeting otherly children near her own age.
Please let me know your thoughts.
For now, I am as always,
Your friend,
Maeve Brádaigh
11
Soren had always prided himself on the control he exerted over his unrulyturuk; now more than ever, the daily struggle was a true test of his will against the beast’s. While keeping near Miss Maeve did satisfy theturukin many ways, it was quickly growing greedier.
They both wanted to know what her reddish gold hair would feel like slipping between his fingers. What would it be like to taste the silky smooth expanse of her skin? At night, he’d imagine what it’d be to have her beside him, singing softly to him, her dulcet voice low and intimate.
Ibás, his fur stood on end just thinking about it.
He found the best way to deescalate was to placate—rather than pouncing on Maeve and licking her head to toe, he observed her instead. Thoroughly. To a degree that might’ve seemed excessive to an outside observer.
As spring bloomed in all its glory, the days lengthening and warming, what Soren noticed was Maeve’s growing distraction. It never affected her teaching or devotion to the children, butwhenever she had a moment alone, her gaze would travel far away, her thoughts along with it.
It made Soren worry that something, or someone, was bothering her. Of course, this infuriated histuruk. Soren had to press his paw over his chest during evening classes to keep down all the hostile growling. Often, he could hardly pay attention to the lesson and didn’t remember much about what they’d learned, so focused was he on rooting out any potential trouble.
However, after several days of this, Soren was no closer to an answer. It seemed that his walking Maeve home each evening had tamped the most fervent of hopes. Whatever the other single men thought happened on those evening walks, it kept them from pressing their own suits. A small comfort.
But that garnered few answers. He thought perhaps to ask Kiri, as his brother was at least in the classroom with her for most of the day, whereas Soren usually kept to his own realm of the grounds. However, asking Kiri came with its own dangers—mainly, that infernally smug expression he was developing lately.
