“Aye, courtin’ ye are, which will only lead to one thing. I daenae ken why ye insist on drawin’ a line between the two but if ye insist. Is it about the man ye are courtin’?”
“Aye,” Jonet nodded. “This mornin’, he went to the village to get me sweet cakes because he remembered when I told him they were me favorite.”
“How kind of him.”
“It was,” she agreed. “But, on his way back he was attacked.”
Christal’s jaw fell. “Attacked, ye say? By who?”
Jonet shook her head. “I daenae ken. But he thinks it was an accident. An arrow shooting out of nowhere like, that must have come from a hunter of some sorts, he says. I just cannae believe it.”
Christal frowned. She took Jonet’s hand, patting it gently and Jonet instantly knew what she was going to say. What they all say.
“Daenae think about it too much. Ye weren’t there. It may very well be what he says and ye are only makin’ yer fears get the best of ye.”
She knew as much. Christal was hardly saying anything to Jonet that she hadn’t heard before. She had thought about it nonstop since Matthew told her of the event. Jonet wanted to believe it was true with all her heart, but at the same time, she would pray in case it was not.
“I daenae think I will be able to finish the sweet cakes today, Christal,” Jonet shook her head.
“Well that’s all right. Ye barely started.”
Jonet huffed a laugh. She looked down at herself, sighing. “I suppose I should go change. I should avoid Freya while I’m at it. I daenae think I can handle her judgment right now.”
“Quite understandable,” Christal smiled. “Ye run along now
.”
Jonet came to a stand at the dismissal and turned to take her leave. The moment she did, she spotted someone at the threshold. Her heart fell.
“Matthew!”
Yet he was not alone. Right behind him came her father, and Dougal, then Jonathan. They all looked at Jonet’s flour covered body and laughed, but they moved right along with the meat they carried. Only Matthew remained.
Embarrassment colored her red. She wanted to run and hide from his sight, but her pride kept her there.
“Havenae ye learned, Jonet?” said Jonathan. “Ye shouldnae be tryin’ yer hand at cookin’ or bakin’ again.”
“It was only a little accident,” she murmured.
“Aye, but ye have a little accident every time ye try this,” Dougal jumped in, chuckling. “Though, I’m nae complainin’. It’s very amusin’.”
“I’m glad ye found this funny, Uncle,” she did not want to look at Matthew again, afraid to witness him taking in this embarrassing spectacle.
“I think we all find this hilarious, lass,” her father spoke up. “We definitely have somethin’ to talk about at dinner over this good venison I brought in.”
“Nay,” Dougal shook his head. “Nay one will be able to speak when ye all taste this veal.”
Jonet listened to her father and his brother strike up their usual competitive conversation, then turned her attention to Matthew. Her breath hitched on her throat when she witnessed the look in his eyes. They were dark, trailing down the length of her then back up. There was a slightly amused smirk on his face, but that did not compare to the heat in his eyes. It drew her in, making her approach him without another thought.
“Ye are quite a mess,” he observed.
“Aye,” she nodded, not looking away from him. He was all sweaty, she realized. She could picture him hunting alongside her burly family and her heart began to beat rapidly.
As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, his smirk widened. “I dinnae ken it would be so interestin’ to see ye covered in flour like this.”
“Interestin’?”
He lifted his gaze up to her and shook his head slowly. “More and more ye surprise me.”