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The sound of her laughter warmed him more than sunlight ever could.

He stepped closer, unable to resist. His lips brushed hers in a lingering kiss, soft but filled with unspoken promise. When he pulled back, he pressed a gentler kiss to her temple, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. His hand rested at the base of her nape, thumb tracing lightly as if memorizing the shape of her before he forced himself to let go.

“Would ye like to go with me when I speak to Gowan?” he asked quietly.

Anne hesitated, her gaze drifting past him to the rolling fields beyond, thoughtful. “Gowan and I share first meal together, come then. I believe ’tis best that way.”

Camden nodded, though leaving her felt like stepping away from warmth into the shadows. He turned and walked down the path, resisting the urge to glance back more than once.

Every wish seemed to be coming true. There was no doubt in his mind now. She was the woman he was meant to marry. His declaration of love had not been spoken lightly; it was true, a sensation that was now rooted deep in his soul. Stronger, truer feelings than he had ever known.

After spending the day with her, the world itself felt changed. Lighter. Brighter. His boots seemed to float over the packed earth, barely touching the ground. He had duties, and it was best to see to his responsibilities, but he’d be counting the minutes until he could see her again. It seemed an eternity before morning would finally come.

The apothecary greeted him with its familiar herbal sharpness, bundles of drying plants hanging from the rafters, and the faint bitterness of ground roots in the air. Brae stood at the table, surrounded by scattered leaves and stems, Camden’s ledger open before him. The lad scribbled intently in his own smaller book. The dog they’d rescued from the woods lay next to Brae’s feet, seeming to have chosen the younger man over him.

“Ye ken how to read and write?” Camden asked, surprise threaded through his voice.

“Ay,” Brae answered without looking up. “Mum taught all of us. She teaches most of the bairns from neighboring farms as well.”

Camden nodded, oddly impressed. The boy’s focus spared him questions about where he’d been, and he slipped through to the living quarters, fatigue suddenly settling over him like a cloak. He found a cup of cool water to drink and sat, intending only to rest his eyes for a moment. Sleep claimed him swiftly.

He woke with a jolt to Brae shaking his shoulder. “Someone’s here asking for yer help.”

Camden blinked, pushing sleep away. A small boy stood in the doorway, face smudged with dirt, eyes wide and strained in exaggerated misery.

Jumping up, Camden approached him at once. “Where are ye injured?”

“Nae myself.” The boy’s voice trembled. “I must speak to ye alone.” He cast Brae a suspicious glance and pointed toward the door.

Though puzzled, Camden followed him outside. Evening shadows had begun stretching long across the yard, the air cooling with the coming dusk. “What is it?”

The boy looked about nervously, as though danger lurked behind every corner, then lifted pleading eyes. “Me sista… she’s in trouble. Needs ye to see about her. She does nae wish for anyone to ken.”

Camden’s chest tightened with understanding. This was not unfamiliar. A frightened girl. A secret birth. Fear and shame forcing them to hide. “I will fetch my box. Wait here,” he told the boy.

Weariness tugged at him, and for a fleeting moment he wished Beitris were present to go in his place. Yet he knew better. In such matters, time could not be spared. One delay, one hesitation, could cost dearly. Duty steadied him as he turned back inside, already preparing himself for whatever waited in the night beyond his door.

The boy moved fast, faster than Camden would have expected for someone so chubby, weaving through the narrow lanes without once looking back to see if he followed. Camden lengthened his stride, his medicinal box bumping at his side as they passed the last open shops, the tavern’s warm glow spilling laughter and music into the evening air.

It all faded behind them too quickly. Soon there were no voices. No lamplight. Only the dimming sky and the darkening line of trees ahead.

By the time they reached the edge of the forest, Camden’s patience had thinned. The air here felt cooler, damp with the scent of moss and decay. Branches creaked softly above, though there was little wind to move them.

“Why did ye nae tell me to fetch a horse?” he asked, irritation edging his voice.

The boy turned, smiling too broadly. “’Tis just a bit further.” The grin lingered a moment too long.

Camden’s steps slowed. The earlier desperation in the lad’s face was gone entirely. In its place sat something sharp and almost what he’d describe as expectant. He continued anyway, senses sharpening. He noted footprints pressed into the soil. Too fresh. Not the scattered wandering of hunters or gatherers, but repeated paths back and forth.

He caught another scent beneath the loam and leaves, a floral scent.

And still no sound of distress from the supposed sister. No crying. No movement. Nothing but the hush of waiting trees.

Camden halted and beckoned. “Come here, lad.”

The boy didnae move closer. He stood a distance away, watching Camden as one might observe a dog deciding whether it would bite.

“What is yer name?” Camden asked quietly, studying him now rather than humoring him.