Warrior's Moon A Love Story (7 page)

She nodded wordlessly and he went on, “I’m so sorry, Chani.  I’ll be far more careful of being there early.”  She nodded again.  “But stay inside until I come in, all right?”

“Yes.  Thank you.”

“Are you ready to face your mother?”

“I think so.”

“Are you ready for me to go then?”

Chantaya hesitated.  She wasn’t sure what she was about him.  Between being so roughly attacked and then having him kiss her hair, she was in a complete emotional tussle.  At length, she said.  “I . . .  I think so.  Thank you for coming.  Thank you for coming every time.  Thank you for always watching over me.”

The smile was back in his voice again.  “You’re welcome, Chani.  It’s what I do.  Remember?  ‘Tis branded on my forehead.”  He pulled her close one more time.  “Good night, Chantaya Kincraig.  Sleep well.”

Chantaya slipped inside the door and shot the heavy bolt, then turned into the room.  Her mother was fast asleep in the rocking chair beside the fire with her sewing on her lap and Chantaya paused for a moment to take a deep breath and lean back against the door to try to clear her head before advancing into the room. 

Tears welled one more time, but all she had to do to swallow them was think back on how Peyton had kissed her hair tonight.  It had been absolutely strange that he did it, but then when she thought about it, her tummy did this nervous butterfly thing.  He was her dearest friend in all the world and he’d rescued her once again.  A big rescue this time.  Much bigger than the myriad times he’d hauled her out of one pickle or another, but that kiss.  That kiss was so different.  They weren’t truly kissing friends like that usually, although often lately, she’d wished they were and wondered what it would be like. 

His kiss tonight must have just been the situation.  Still, she sighed.  ‘Twas unbelievably thought-provoking.  Would he still be her same dear friend tomorrow?  And why did she hope so much that he would do it again?  It had been incredibly nice.  Just the thought of it brought a sweet warmth that was new to her.  ‘Twas near more troubling than the drunken Hershey.

Gently, she woke her mother and encouraged her to go to bed, then Chantaya banked the fire without ever mentioning the stranger at the tavern.  There would be time enough to tell her mother in the morning.  There was no sense in troubling her when she was so weary tonight.

Chantaya slept poorly and had weird dreams, but when she fought her way to wakefulness, she had only to remember Peyton’s gentle hug and his voice in her ear last night to help her relax and go back to sleep.  Just the memory of him holding her so tightly helped her to rest again.  Still, she slept late and in the morning felt as if she’d never been to bed. 

‘Twas
Peyton’s knock on their door and then him speaking with her mother that finally had her up and dressing to come down the ladder from the loft.  He watched her quietly as she descended and she could see the question in his eyes as he glanced at her mother and back.  She gave him the merest head shake as they went to the table to join her mother for breakfast.  Chantaya saw he was concerned and wanted to ask her how she was, but still decided to put off speaking of the stranger.  She wasn’t quite up to talking about it yet this morning.  If she was honest, she wasn’t even up to facing Peyton yet this morning.  She still hadn’t figured out what to think of him and his tender kiss last night.

She made it through breakfast, then took her egg basket and stepped out the door to go care for the chickens.  Peyton followed her.  She’d barely made it out the door when he took her hand to pull her to a stop and make her look at him.  He studied her at length again before finally asking softly, “How are you?”

She’d thought she was only tired until she heard the concerned tone of his voice.  She was embarrassed when tears welled into her eyes again.  She wiped at them stubbornly and struggled to swallow the lump in her throat and finally choked, “Well.  Thank you.”

He stepped across the small space between them and folded her back into his hug and said, “I never thought you’d try to lie to me, Chani.”  He rubbed her shoulders again like last night.  “You’re a miserable liar, at any rate.  You could never convince a body.” 

She sniffled and said, “Pray forgive me.”

For a few minutes, all he did was hug her silently and then finally, tried to jest again.  “By all appearances I’m going to have to be the honorable party to tell your mother what happened.  You’re too busy dampening my tunic, it would seem.”  She didn’t answer and finally, he asked more seriously, “Do you want me to tell her?”

At length, she took a deep, shuddering breath.  “No.  I’m well enough.  Let me go gather the eggs and try to cover these tears and I’ll go tell her.  I don’t know why I’m being a baby this morning.  Just tired, I guess.”

He tipped her head up and studied her again as he asked, “Bad dreams?”

She nodded.  “But they always ended with this handsome, gallant blonde man saving the moment.  So don’t worry.”

He raised his eyebrows.  “I’m glad to hear that, girl, but I’m afraid you still look to be in need of a nap.  And he left bruises on your cheek.”  Peyton gently touched her face and then went on, “Shall I go tell the Bealles you won’t be coming tonight?”

“No.”  She shook her head.  “This isn’t a big thing, remember?  What happened to him?  Last night?”

“Some of the men threatened him that if they ever saw him anywhere near you again they’d put him in the stocks for a week or hang him, whichever he preferred.  Then they dumped him in the back of a wagon, hauled him back to the
Forks, gave him a whipping and tossed him out.  I doubt he’ll be back in Navarre for a very long time, if ever.”

She let out a big breath.  “Oh, good.  I hope it’s never.  Pray, let me gather the eggs.  I’ll be right back.”

He followed her to the little henhouse and waited while she stepped inside and came back out with half a dozen eggs.  He walked beside her back into the house where her mother studied them closely as Chantaya washed the eggs and set them aside.  Peyton folded his arms and leaned back against the wall near the door and watched her quietly, then bid them goodbye and left.  Her mother turned to her expectantly.  “All right, daughter, what goes on here this morning?”

Puttering in the kitchen with putting the breakfast things away, Chantaya did her best to be nonchalant as she explained, “There was a stranger who had had a wee bit too much ale last even who thought he wanted to speak with me outside the tavern.  He wasn’t overly polite.  Peyton gave him a mighty slug and then brought me home.  Peyton’s just worried about me.  That’s all.”  She glanced up at her mother and then asked brightly, “What are we to be about today?  Shall we go into the woods first thing?”

Coming near, her mother turned her face into the light to look at her and studied her thoughtfully before answering, “Yes, the woods first thing might be good.  Do you want to talk about this stranger Peyton slugged?”

Hesitating for a just a moment, Chantaya shook her head with a sigh.  “In truth, not yet, Mama.  Mostly, I’d just like to go on with this day like it didn’t happen at all.  Does that offend you?”

Gently, Isabella assured her, “No, not at all.  I understand.  But, know also that you probably should talk about it sometime.  If not to me, then to Peyton or Mordecai or someone else you trust.  Some things are better dealt with than not.”

Nodding silently, Chantaya finished straightening up, grateful her mother was such a calm, gentle woman and somehow knowing her mother understood far too well just what had gone on last night.

In the woods, they stayed closer to each other than they typically did and Chantaya wasn’t surprised when her mother eventually brought their sporadic conversation around to the topic of Peyton, when she said, “Peyton seemed quite concerned this morning.  Was he well?  He seemed different somehow.”

Chantaya thought about that for several moments before answering.  He had obviously been concerned.  He always was, but he’d never shown up first thing in the morning to see about her like he had today.  And until last night, he’d never looked so deeply at her quite like that.  Usually, he was a bit exasperated with whatever he was concerned about, but then he was also typically rescuing her from some pickle she’d gotten herself into out of being too intrepid.  That wasn’t necessarily the case here.  However, it hadn’t occurred to Chantaya that he might not be all right after what had happened. 

Honestly, she’d been more caught up in her own fears and going back over and over that tender kiss, than in noticing whether he was all right.  Finally, she answered her mother thoughtfully with a question.  “He was different, wasn’t he?” 

Isabella nodded.  “He was.”  But that was all she said for several more minutes as they continued to pluck at the small mushroom patch they had found, both busy with their own thoughts. 

Eventually, Chantaya put aside her small knife and looked up at her mother and said, “A man there last even, eating with the stranger, said I was Peyton’s girl, Mother.”  She sighed, wishing again ‘twas true and shook her head in confusion.  “Why would he say that?  Peyton and I are just friends, are we not?  He’s almost like my brother, isn’t he?”

Isabella smiled gently and kept on about the mushrooms.  “You are friends, Chantaya.  The best of friends.  Better friends than I’ve nearly ever seen.  In truth, I don’t know that I’ve been around any young people who are such friends.  The only time I’ve ever seen the likes of you two has been people who are married.  But yours has been an unusual situation.  It’s no wonder you are so close.”

She paused for a moment as she worked, and then went on, “As far as brother and sister, I suppose you’re close to that, but he’s more patient with you by far than he is with Tristan.  He ever has been.  When we first came here, I was so hurt and couldn’t care for you and he did it almost exclusively.  ‘Twas most amazing.  He was so young and so sweet with you.  But, no, I wouldn’t say you were Peyton’s girl.  If you were, I would never let you tromp all over the countryside with him as I do.  ‘Twould change everything.  He never flirts with you, does he?”

Chantaya shook her head.  “No.  Never.  Blast him.  I so wish he would.  In truth, he lectures me rather than flirts.  He has this need to keep me safe and well behaved.  And teases me mercilessly until I laugh.”

Isabella smiled again.  “It makes us all laugh, it does.  He truly does adore you.  It’s ever fun to see.  He’s a fine young man, is Peyton Wolfgar.”

Nodding, Chantaya said, “He is.  The best.  When I thought about being someone’s girl last even I’m ashamed to admit I was quite irritable.  I’m not sure what to think about romance.  I look forward to it, I do.  But, in truth, I couldn’t think of one other boy that I’d rather be with than Peyton and Tristan.  They’re much more fun than the other villagers.  Peyton especially.  And he’s ever so handsome.”  She sighed and grimaced. 
“I suppose I’ll have to wait until either someone comes here who is more interesting, or until I travel somewhere else sometime.  They were quite discouraging actually, my thoughts.”

Isabella laughed.  “You thought a lot about this, it would seem.”

With a sheepish grin, Chantaya nodded.  “I did.  I feel far too young to bother with it, but then I’m only a year younger than you were when you married.  That’s a sobering idea, it is.  What if I never meet someone who interests me more than Peyton?  Shall I die old and alone like Mordecai or must I marry someone I don’t particularly like?  How horrid!  I don’t think I could do the things you spoke of with someone I didn’t want near me.”

Again, Isabella laughed, only this time she hugged Chantaya as she did so.  “Oh, daughter.  Don’t worry so.  I married
young, ’tis true, but only because I loved your father dearly.  You needn’t worry this way.  One day you’ll know, without a doubt, that you’ve found the love of your life.  Then the problem won’t be that you don’t want him near you, I assure you.  Then, the problem will be all of the other things in this life that get in the way of being near him.  And, in truth, I wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised if one day you and Peyton wake up to find your friendship has become more than mere brotherly.”

Chantaya’s eyes widened and Isabella grinned at her.  “Maybe not, dearest, but you’ll have to either bring in droves of newcomers, or go round the whole world before you’d ever find a finer, handsomer, more entertaining young man.  Peyton isn’t your typical, mediocre village boy.  He’s quite amazing.  And no one could treat you better.  That’s the truth of it.  He handles your free spirit admirably.  Don’t you think?  Not to mention that he does, indeed, keep you safe.  ‘Tis no easy task with you.”

“No.  It isn’t.  I fear I keep him fair juggling sometimes.  Still, he’s pure adorable when he’s so patient with me.”

“Well, you are no mediocre girl either, Chantaya Kincraig.  Whoever you end up with would have to go just as far to ever find a treasure girl such as you.  You mustn’t ever forget that.  You have gifts and potential that are far above average as well.  You should be so grateful.”

Chantaya looked down.  “I am, Mother.  I am grateful.  I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.  I’m just so very mixed up.  Thinking about whether I’m not someone’s girl yet.  It’s fair unnerving.”  She paused and then admitted, “And last night, when I was so frightened, Peyton kissed my hair, Mama.  Near startled me.  I don’t think he even realized he did it.  We were somewhat upset last night.  And Peyton was so angry with that man that he knocked him cold with one strike.  In looking back, I’m most mortified.  I was glad, Mother!  Imagine that.  I’ve never been so glad.  I should be ashamed.”