Hannah gasped at her sister’s audacity. “Violet Leon!”
Violet laughed merrily at that, a sound that warmed Hannah’s heart with its vibrancy. “Ye sound defensive. Did I hit a nerve?”
“Nay! Ye didnae!”
“Ach, again with the bad lies! But I mean it, Sister. Ye should be careful.”
Hannah cleared her throat, tossing back her head. “He willnae hurt me. I already told ye that.”
Violet pursed her lips. “Maybe he willnae hurt ye physically, but there are other pains a person can suffer, too. Besides, I can tell ye are playing with fire.”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “Goodness. When did me sister become the wise woman of the village? Is there anything ye daenae ken?”
Violet chuckled. “I’ll be seeing to the chickens, then.” She headed out through the front door, Hannah swiping at her as she went.
Hannah was still chuckling when she returned to the distillery to snag a full bottle of whiskey, remembering she owed the farrier. She imagined he would be less nervous about accepting his payment without Aiden looming over her shoulder.
She was still smiling when she started down the path from the cottage and saw people out and about. Shouting to one another from doorways. A group of women waulking wool together. Men working their fields. Children shrieking in delight as they played tag.
It felt like it had been months since she’d seen so much life in the village. Her heart swelled at the sight of it all, delighted that she could tell Aiden all about the life he’d breathed back into the village with just some plants and healers.
She smiled at a passing woman. “Good day!”
The woman frowned at her and hurried by without a word.
That was strange.
Deciding perhaps the woman was having a bad day, or was in a hurry, or… who knew, Hannah tried not to take it personally and kept on her way.
When she got to the village… well, it was bustling. None of the villagers would look at her, even when she tried to greet them. In fact, every one of them seemed to be deliberately not looking at her.
Confused, she decided to keep going.
“Hure,” she heard at her back.
She paused, glancing over her shoulder. Surely she’d misheard.
“Strumpet.” She heard that one loud and clear.
Her face reddening with embarrassment and anger, she hurried past, going to the door of the farrier. He glanced up, saw her, and frowned.
“Liam. Here.” She held out the whiskey bottle.
He scoffed. “Nay.”
“Nay?” She looked at the bottle and then up at him. “What do ye mean, nay?”
“Get out.” Liam came at her. His hammer was still in his hand, though he didn’t raise it. That was still enough for her to back away from him and out through the door, which he slammed in her face.
Now there was definitely something going on.
Hannah swallowed hard, staring at the wooden planks in bewilderment. What had she done? She couldn’t think of anything she’d done wrong. On the contrary, she’d brought the Laird’s attention to their plight, hadn’t she? She didn’t expect them to be singing her praises, but she certainly didn’t expect this sort of treatment.
She glanced around, seeing more spiteful looks. Not wanting to risk another confrontation, she hiked up her skirts and fled with the whiskey bottle back down the road. She didn’t stop running until she’d made it back to her cottage.
Out of breath, she slammed the door open, startling her sister from her sweeping of the hearth.
“Hannah?”
