Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Raff stared. “So, all of this… was matchmaking?”
“Magical matchmaking,” the witch said proudly. “The finest kind.”
Ingrid crossed her arms. “Mum—”
“Oh don’t ‘Mum’ me. You love him, don’t you?”
Ingrid softened. “Of course I do.”
“And he clearly loves you. Followed you into a cursed village and he would have burned with you if I hadn’t helped him. That he would face death for you proved he was the honorable man I believed him to be. And a good husband for one of my daughters. He came to you of his own accord. Fell in love with you without an ounce of help from me. Do you want to argue with that?”
“Nay,” Ingrid said, turning a smile on her husband.
“I have no fault with it,” Raff agreed, his arm circling his wife’s waist and drawing her against him.
“Good,” the witch said. “Now that that is settled, I will stay for the harvest celebration and make certain all is well with you two.” She glared at Raff. “And if you’re thinking of warning your friends, forget it. I’ll silence any message you send them.”
“If their wishes turned out like mine, I wouldn’t dare interfere with their chances of correcting them,” Raff said, silently hoping his friends would do as well as he did.
“Wise man,” the witch said. “When I leave—”
“Which won’t be soon enough,” Raff mumbled, which got him a poke in the side from his wife and a glare from his mother-in-law.
“I have your sisters and two other prospective husbands to check up on,” the witch continued. “I just hope they’re not as slow on the uptake, though that one sister of yours can be terribly stubborn.”
“I wonder who she gets that from?” Raff mumbled.
“Be careful with your words, Raff,” the witch warned.
“Why? Will you turn me into a frog?” Raff said with a chuckle.
“Don’t tempt me,” the witch snapped.
“I would just change him back, Mum,” Ingrid said.
Raff’s head snapped toward his wife. “What? Wait—”
“Didn’t stop to think that since her mum’s a witch that your wife might be one too?” the witch asked with a chuckle.
Raff looked at his wife bewildered.
“I’m not powerful like her,” Ingrid said as if trying to reassure him. “My magic is in my weaving. It comforts and sometimes heals.”
He stared at her speechless.
“We’ll discuss it later when we’re alone,” Ingrid said, wrapping her arm around his. “We should head home now.”
The witch led the way, still chuckling. “That’s not the only surprise that awaits him.”
Ingrid shook her head. “Mum, what did you do now?”
CHAPTER 21
The village hummed with life, golden with the bounty of the harvest, as the celebration burst to life. Children darted between tables laden with roasted meats, fresh bread, and honeyed apples. Music swirled on the air, lively pipes and drums mixing with laughter.
Raff stood at the edge of the celebration, his feet rooted to the earth, his thoughts anything but steady.
His mother-in-law, Theodora, was a witch. A good one, he reminded himself quickly, though he thought that could be debated after seeing her powerful magic for himself. Magic that included matchmaking, meddling and, apparently, fire-stopping spells. Seeing her talking, laughing, enjoying herself here now like everyone else was strange. But the one thing that made her tolerable was the love he saw in her eyes for Ingrid, her daughter.
And his wife? Ingrid, brave, strong Ingrid was also a witch. Her magic? Weaving. She wove more than just patterns into her blankets. Her power lay in the threads, soft and subtle, yet powerful enough to calm a storm of fear or warm a soul chilled by grief.
He turned his gaze to his wife, his heart tightening in his chest.
She was weaving a garland of late-blooming heather for a laughing lass. She glowed with joy knowing the villagers didn’t fail her but were there for her in the end. A special thanks went to Latham and Edith, who had stood fast when the flames threatened. They had shouted her innocence when others had doubted. Their voices had turned the tide.
He smiled, thinking there wasn’t a woman alive who could compare with her beauty, her kindness. He wanted to go to her, to take her hand and whisper how much he loved her and always would.
“Raff!”
The voice came from a distant, but familiar place. His heart stalled. He turned.
A line of riders approached, their horses dusty from the road. One dismounted with a cry that tore straight into Raff’s soul.
His brother, Nathan.
Before Raff could move, Nathan’s arms were around him, a hand clapping his back, laughter caught with emotion.
“You bloody fool,” his brother said, his voice thick. “We thought you dead. Then we hear rumors—Raff alive, settled in MacCannish land, married to a woman accused of witchcraft and wrapped up in clan disputes.” He pulled back, eyes glinting. “And I thought—of course.”
Raff choked on a laugh, but it broke into a sound that was almost a sob, and he cast a quick glance at Theadora. She smiled brightly. She had ended the wish. He was truly free. Maybe his mother-in-law wasn’t so bad after all.