He shook his head. “I’m good with her.”
Lisle took a step closer to him. “And when you’re not with her?”
“I’m good, too,” he said.
She laughed and shook her head. “You’re making me wish I’d joined them.”
A momentary jolt of fear gripped him with her words. He wasn’t sure why. He didn’t believe in such scams, but he found himself curious about her tale. “So where does a maiden like yourself find the FaeRisen?”
“You don’t,” she said. “They find you.”
He waited, but she didn’t say more. “Don’t leave me hanging.”
“The horse,” she said.
“What?”
“The horse was from the FaeRisen. It’s never actually lost. It apparently can help find maidens who are wounded inside, who need vengeance. It can only be claimed by those who have turmoil inside. The woman who came to pick up Swift was one of them. She offered me a chance, but I didn’t want it. Whatever problems I have, I’ll work ‘em out on my own, but not everyone is like me.” She turned her head to the side now and spit. Then she looked back at him. “Be good to Gothel, or I’ll tell her exactly what you and I have been up to.”
Chapter 9 - The Past Returns
He’d been unsettled by Lisle’s crazy story, but not enough to veer from his plan. He headed back to the pub and pulled Geoffrey aside. The old man seemed jolly as ever, when they stepped to a side door stepped out into the afternoon air.
Stil leaned against the wall of the pub, the stones making up the building’s exterior feeling solid against his back. “I wanted to speak to you about Gothel,” he said.
Geoffrey, who stood a few feet away chewing on a piece of straw, nodded for him to go on.
“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’ve been spending a bit of time together. She’s been very welcoming making me feel at home here. She’s very kind and caring, and I was hoping — with your permission, of course, sir — to court her.”
Geoffrey eyed him for a moment, and then spit the straw to the ground. His expression was grim, and Stil felt an uncertainty he’d not experienced before. He was used to people going along with what he said. “Stil,” Geoffrey started, his voice kind, but firm. “I’ve noticed that Gothel ‘as warmed to ya, and that’s good. I always thought she was by ‘erself too much. It’s good she found a friend in ya. And it’s good ya thinks well of Gothel, too.”
Stil could feel the but coming and he wanted to argue against it, but with no idea why the but was coming, he stood there, his mouth clamped shut.
“Gothel’s a good girl. She expec’s a lot from people.”
“I’ll give her all I have, sir,” Stil interjected.
Geoffrey took a couple of steps closer and patted Stil’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’d try, Stil. It’s just that you’re the complete opposite of your name. Ain’t nothing still about you. You’re a wanderer, and I’d only feel more comf’table givin’ you my permission if you were to stick around longer. You been here, what, two months? And I can see that gleam in your eye. It’s like you’re itching to move on. I just want to make sure my girl is wit’ someone who’s going to stick around. You understand?”
Oh, yes, Stil understood, but he couldn’t admit it. “Sir, I’m perfectly happy to be here and wouldn’t run off. But I can understand you concern for your daughter. I’ll stick around and prove to you that I’m the right one for her.”
Geoffrey’s head nodded, but his eyes remained skeptical as he gave Stil another shoulder pat and said, “Good, then. We can talk in the spring.”
Stil managed to keep a solemn smile on his face, but the wait for spring was too long. He wanted to take Gothel and move on. Just the two of them.
Geoffrey was likely a lost cause, but not Gothel herself. He went inside and found her in the kitchen helping her mother. He nodded to her, spoke to Mary, and then yawned. That was their signal that he wanted to talk to her privately. Then he went outside to the rear of the pub, where there was a well about twenty yards back. He waited a few minutes, and Gothel arrived shortly thereafter.
She headed straight to the well, setting a pitcher she’d brought with her next to the well. “What did he say?” she asked, as she lowered the well’s bucket into the hole.
He looked back at the pub. The doorway stood empty, so it seemed fairly safe to speak. He still whispered. “He said to wait, that he’d like to wait until spring.”
She knitted her brow as she looked down into the well. “I guess it’s good he didn’t say no,” she said. “But that is a bit odd.”
“I think he’s afraid,” Stil said, planting the seed he’d need to get her to acquiesce to his plan to leave.
“Afraid of what?” she whispered back, throwing a glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was in the vicinity.
“That one of his best assets would leave him, that you and I would get married and leave here,” he said. “It’s normal to fear for yourself,” Stil offered reassuringly. “It’s just too bad when that fear hinders those you love.”
Gothel’s brow was still knitted. “I’m sure Giselle could help out,” she said. “Plus, we aren’t going to leave right away, are we?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, as if the thought hadn’t fully occurred to him. “Sooner is probably better than later. That way, we can get our traveling done and be back here sooner to settle down.”
Her face was pensive as she considered it. “So, leaving sooner would help Ma and Pa in the end, right?”
“And Giselle, too,” he said. “You know, if she found a man who wanted to court her, we’d be back sooner and she could pursue it. If we stayed here for a year and then left, she might not be able to take advantage of any courting opportunity that came her way.”
She smiled. “Giselle deserves to be happy,” Gothel said, a wistfulness to her voice. “She’s too hard on people sometimes, so if the opportunity came, I’d want her to have it.”
Gothel was pulling the bucket up now, the water sloshing as it journeyed to the top. He helped her pull the bucket to the side of the well, so she could transfer it to the pitcher. “I know your father loves you, and he doesn’t think I’m bad. He just wants you here. But maybe doing what we think is best will help everyone the most.”
She knitted her brow again, and her lovely violet eyes seemed to turn inward on themselves as she considered what he was saying. “You think we should defy Pa?”
“I think we should be happy,” he said, and he rubbed her arm.
She looked at his hand and smiled, one of those truly happy Gothel smiles that just sent a ray of warmth through Stil.
She lifted the pitcher. “Thank you for your help, Stil,” she said, louder than necessary, then she whispered. “I’ll think about what you said.”
He nodded and watched as she headed back into the pub.
* * *
The pub had been very busy that evening, so Stil and Gothel hadn’t managed time to talk. In the morning, he awoke early and headed out to the baker. On the way there, he passed Lisle on the street.
Not wanting to look rude, he tipped his hat to her, and said, “Milady.” Only she didn’t just nod in return. Lisle turned and approached him.
He wanted to walk faster, but there were a few people on the street, and he didn’t want to be seen rebuffing her. People talked, and he didn’t want him and her to be mentioned together.
She said his name, and it was clear she wanted to talk. He needed to get them out of the general viewing area.
He looked around and saw there was an alleyway up ahead, and not that many people around. He inclined his head toward a little alleyway and then turned to eye her significantly. He mouthed the words “in two,” and then walked on. She indicated she understood.
He veered off into the alleyway. Two minutes later, Lisle appeared.
“So,” she whispered, as she got close to him. “You say you’ve only got eyes for one woman, but the way you look at me says
different.”
He raised an eyebrow. She was quite the hard one to follow. At first she wanted to have sex with him, then she wanted him to stop sleeping with her because he needed to be good to Gothel. And now she seemed to want him for herself again. Gothel had been right. This one was definitely a wolf. “I told you, I’m perfectly happy with Gothel,” he said.
She shrugged and stared at him as if she wanted to rip every piece of clothing off of him and lick him from head to toe. It was the best look he’d been given by a woman in long time. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me, then.”
“At your barn?” he asked though, he wasn’t sure why.
She raised an eyebrow, smiled and nodded.
“I thought you didn’t want me to hurt Gothel,” he whispered.
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” she said, then gave him a wink, turned and sauntered away.
The encounter left Stil confused, but he put it out of his mind. He didn’t have time for Lisle, not when his priority was getting Gothel to go with him. This restlessness would subside when it was just him and her, together.
He worked much of the morning, helping Fred where it was needed and doing a few things of his own volition. He’d gotten pretty good at his job here. Perhaps I’ll bake somewhere, he thought as he was organizing a row of petite pastries on the display case.
He looked up in time to see Gothel enter the store. “What are you doing here?”
“My father wanted some of Fred’s sticky buns for the pub tonight. Moms are good, but Fred’s sell better, even with the markup.”
“Sounds good,” Stil said. “I’ll get them for you. How many do you need?”
Just then he heard Fred say, “Posh. You’ve done almost everything today. I can get this order. What does your father need?”
“Two dozen sticky buns,” Gothel said.
“It’ll be a minute,” he said, then turned to Stil. “Why don’t you take your break now? Gothel can keep you company while she waits.”
He eyed the old man a hair longer than necessary. He supposed he hadn’t been as circumspect with Fred as he should have been. He talked a lot about Gothel to Fred, he realized now. He nodded to the old man. “Sure, thanks.”
Stil led Gothel to the back of the store and out the back door to a yard that had a large stump settled in the middle. He offered it to her, and she sat down. For some reason, her presence made him think of Lisle.
“Can I ask you something?” Stil said.
“You just did,” Gothel responded, with a grin.
Stil remained stoic.
“Yes, go ahead,” she prompted.
“How do you know Lisle, the pastor’s daughter?”
Gothel raised an eyebrow. “The same way I know everyone. We’ve lived here all our lives.”
“She made it seem like the two of used to be close,” he said.
Gothel frowned. “When did you talk to her?”
“Ran into her this morning. She said you two used to be friends. I thought it was odd, since you’re the one who suggested I stay away from her.”
Gothel nodded, her face contorting into sadness. “We were friends,” she admitted. “Very close friends. Sometimes I miss the talks we used to have. She used to be very kind and level-headed. But she’s had a hard life. The pastor isn’t an easy man to live with. He loves the Lord, but he also is harsh with her, and after her mother died, it just got worse. There was no comfort for her, you know. Her father could take comfort in his God, but she was just a girl who’d lost the mother who showered her with love. Instead, she searched for love in the wrong places. Then, she just decided she didn’t want love. She wanted to feel something. She wanted danger and excitement, and she would do things that weren’t good for her and she didn’t care. And she would do things that were hurtful to others and she didn’t care. And no matter what I said to her or how I tried to help, it was never enough. She chose a path of destruction.”
She sighed. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I should have tried harder, but other times I think she’s decided on the life of a wolf. There’s nothing I can do to change her. She even seduced a boy who had been courting Giselle. Told her he was no good, and she’d prove it. And she did, but it wasn’t her job to prove it. She just did it to be hurtful, I think. Now, what happened between that boy and Lisle was as much his fault as hers, but she was the only one who had a duty to be our friend, and she failed us with that. I couldn’t be friends with her after that.”
He blew out, trying to hide how disturbed he was by what he’d been told. She’d purposely seduced a fellow and then told Giselle what happened. He wondered if that was why she’d been so solicitous to him this morning. Was she trying to trap him so Gothel would find out?
“Too shocked to speak?” Gothel said.
He shook his head, trying to cover. “No, just thinking,” he mumbled. “I could see why you wouldn’t be friends with her.” He wondered if Gothel would believe Lisle if she told her about the two of them.
“Why was Lisle talking to you about me, anyway?” she asked, her hands clasping one another in her lap. She bit her lower lip, hesitating. “Is Lisle trying to, um …?”
“Seduce me?” he supplied with a grin. Then he shook his head. “She could try all she wanted, but I’d never accept.”
She smiled at that, and he leaned forward to plant a kiss on her lips. She held up her hand. “Not here,” she said. “Remember, my father wants you to wait.”
He didn’t give a damn what Geoffrey wanted, but he did care that she didn’t want to at this moment, so he righted himself, and then held out a hand to help her off the stump. “We should get you back in to pick up your order.
After Gothel left, the remaining couple of hours passed swiftly. Stil figured tonight he’d work on getting Gothel to warm to the idea of the two of them leaving sooner rather than later. She’d already heard it, but her refusal to let him kiss her outside was a sign that her father’s wishes were still too heavy on her heart.
It was getting close to time for him to leave, meaning he’d get to meet with Gothel at the garden and talk to her more. Just as he and Fred were about to close, a tall, bearded man entered the shop, flanked by two smaller gentleman. The round, bearded man grinned, looked right at Stil, and said, “Stil. What a pleasant surprise.”
Stil wanted to bolt right there, to turn and run out the back door and pray he was fast enough to get away. But Fred was watching, and he didn’t want any harm to come to the old man. The Terror was unpredictable that way.
He swallowed, forced a smile and said, “Herschel Gray. Yes, what a surprise this is.”
Fred smiled. “Oh, you’re a friend of Stil’s?”
“Sumptin like that,” Gray said, a wicked glint in his eyes. He was flanked by two men who were smaller than him. Though that wasn’t saying much, as Gray had the girth and muscle of a lumberjack and stood more than six feet tall. The men flanking him were thick, but shorter and stockier. They looked prepared to catch Stil if he tried to make a run for it.
“Can I get you gentleman something?” Fred asked, pointing to a row of baked sweets. Gray ordered a few items, and then he said to the old baker, “We were just passing through and don’t know our way very well. You wouldn’t mind if Stil took us back to the main road, make sure we do no’ get lost?’
Fred, placing the items in a box for Gray, didn’t even look up at Stil before replying. “It’s almost the end of Stil’s day. I’m sure he’d be glad to take you. You guys can catch up.”
As he pushed the box toward Gray, Fred looked over at Stil and seemed to see the wariness. But it was too late. Stil had no excuses. It was time to pay the piper.
“This way,” he said, leading the men out of the little shop. He walked ahead of them for a bit, but as they got on the road out of town, Gray and the two men with him took the lead.
“I’ll pay you your money,” Stil said, as they walked toward a more deserted country road. “I shouldn’t have l
eft the way I did.”
“I want more than money,” Gray said, as he stopped and turned to him.
Stil dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling all the money he had on him from his pockets and dropping it in front of Gray. “I made a mistake.”
“You stole from me,” he said.
“I didn’t know the girl needed paying,” he said. “I shouldn’t have run off, even after I did. But I can make it up to you.”
Gray laughed, rough and hardy, his grizzled beard shaking. The sound sent fear through Stil’s entire body. “How are you going to make it up to me?”
“This started over a girl. I can get you a girl. A pretty one, one who will take care of all three of you. That, plus the money here,” he said, scrounging up the money and proffering it to Gray. “That should make us even.”
Gray stared at him a moment, squinting like a beam that could somehow slice open his mind and read his thoughts. “Who is the girl?”
Stil felt a glimmer of hope and latched onto it with everything he had. “A girl from town. Likes a good time. A gorgeous figure, beautiful face. I’ll have her come here and you can have her, all of you.”
Gray took the money from Stil and handed it to one of the burly men he’d brought with him. He nodded, pulled a piece of paper from his jacket pocket, and handed it to Stil. “These are directions to where we’re staying. A little cabin just outside of the town. The two of you can meet us there tonight, at 7. We’ll settle up then, presuming the girl is to my liking.”
Stil nodded. “She will be. She will,” he said, the relief flooding through him, though he tried not to show it. He stood and walked backwards away from them.
“Don’t think about double-crossing me, young man. If you don’t show, I’ll go back and take it out on your baker. Then I’ll find you again, and you’ll answer not just for last time, but this time, too.”
Stil nodded and kept walking backwards. Despite Gray saying they’d be square, the man was not above a double-cross.
When Stil had gotten a more than fair distance away, he turned and ran. He knew exactly where to go.
Stil's Heart Page 7
