Soon, Greer would slip into the Hunting Grounds and emerge as Ellis’s bride. Despite his blusterings, there was not a thing her father could do to stop it.
Hessel pushed the last of the pie’s gravy about the plate, making no motion to finish it. His chair creaked as he shifted, clearing his throat. “I know you and that boy have been…close,” he began. His tone was different, subdued and conversational.
Uncertain of what he was trying now, she nodded.
“Quite close. And I know that, of all the girls in town, you are his first—his only—choice.”
“Yes.”
Hessel sighed. “All I’m asking you to remember is that this partnership is for life. This choice dictates your future. And I would hate for it to be tangled up with that boy.”
“He’s not a boy,” she said, daring to disagree.
“He’s not good enough for you,” Hessel snapped, striking the table. His words were deep and ferocious, a growl you’d hear echoing in a cave just before meeting your end. “He’s not who you deserve. Who our family needs. He and his are blights on this town, stains corrupting everything around them. I’ll not have my mill, my fortunes, or my daughter sullied by their lot. You will not marry that boy, Greer Mackenzie. I will make certain of it!”
Greer balled her hands, nails digging into her palms as defiance licked her spine. She could no longer bear to tiptoe around Hessel’s rages. “You can’t stop me. You can’t stop him. You ran your Hunt, you had your turn. This is our decision.”
Hessel’s face darkened, turning sharp and dangerous. His hand raised, and Greer could see its almost-trajectory. It was going to swing hard and fast and strike her right across the cheek. The one full of Ailie’s stars. Startled, she pushed herself back against the chair, nearly toppling it. Hessel had never harmed her before; this was new, unfamiliar ground.
Her retreat broke something inside him, giving his action pause.When he dropped his hand, he looked guilty, although he hadn’t touched her.
The house was silent, even Martha knowing to not intrude.
“I need to get ready for the barn warming,” Greer finally said.
Hessel bit at the inside of his cheek. “Greer, I—”
She didn’t want his apology. She didn’t want his explanation. “May I be excused?”
Hessel stared at her for a long, hard moment before releasing a sigh of resignation. “As you like.”
1740
The gambit beganwith a whispered lie, caught and carried on the ever-howling wind.
There were once a boy and girl, close in age, closer even in acquaintance.
Their fathers shared ownership of the log mill, splitting sections of the business in two, as neat as a line drawn across a map. Mackenzie oversaw the yard, the cutting and slicing, the grinding and seasoning. McIntyre hunted the trees, venturing past the marked borders of town, felling the giants, and hauling them back with triumphant swagger.
The boy and girl grew up together. They were playmates and school chums, constant companions and friendly confidants. As they grew older, the boy even fancied he’d fallen in love. By the time they turned eighteen, the year of their Hunt, he was most certain of it.
The girl was not.
The girl had regarded the boy as a close friend, more family than romantic partner.
The girl, you see, had noticed another.
Like a rabbit caught in a poacher’s trap, John Beaufort, son of the blacksmith and a member of the town’s most reviled family, had become ensnared in her thoughts and heart.
The Beauforts had been pariahs in Mistaken since their patriarch, Resolution, had died, impaled upon the very tree he’d set out to harvest. They now lived along the eastern ridge of the cove, as far from town as the Warding Stones would permit.
But the girl, spotting the lanky lad in his father’s shop, had been filled with horrified delight when he, upon catching her open stare, brazenly winked her way.
Weeks later, on a lonely road, they chanced upon each other. She was on her way to the mill, he on his way home. He was smudged black from his day at the forge, sweat-stained and smelling of rank solder. When he smiled at her, gallantly doffing his hat, the girl grinned back, her cheeks as pink as spring petals.
They met again on the road the next day.
And the day after that.
