Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“I’ve heard the same, but the problem with that explanation is that I don’t recall anyone in the clan treating my mum poorly. Besides, my da would have never allowed it and my da wasn’t one to run from a problem.”
“But your family did run, so perhaps the problem was too much for your father to handle,” Snow suggested.
“My da was a strong and skillful warrior. I never knew him to run from anything and my mum was the same. I saw her brandish a weapon with skill and ease. It doesn’t make sense that they were so fearful they would run.”
“I know why parents would run,” Snow said, “for I would do it as well.”
“Tell me, wife,” he said, his eyes falling on her with curiosity, still trying to comprehend how lucky he was that she loved him and she was there snug in his arms.
“If all else failed, I would run to protect my child,” Snow said.
It pleased him to know his wife would be courageous enough to do what was necessary to protect a bairn of theirs.
“I’ve thought of that. But wouldn’t you tell our bairn why you ran?” he asked.
Snow tilted her head and scrunched her brow, giving his question thought. “I’m not sure. What if what I knew, a secret of sorts, placed him in even more danger?”
“But if others knew it as well and he didn’t, not knowing certainly wouldn’t help him.”
“True,” she agreed, nodding, “and secrets don’t always stay secret.” She shook her head. “It is puzzling.” She rested her hand on his chest. “The dead man I tripped over. He was here for a reason and not far from your home. He could have been bringing you a message.”
“Or he could have been here to do harm.”
“Have you been able to find out anything about him?” Snow asked. She felt his body tense slightly. “You know something. Tell me.” His hesitation told her of his reluctance to respond. “Why wouldn’t you want to share it with me?” She gasped at a sudden thought. “Is it that you don’t trust me? We are only wed a day and I suppose we really don’t know each other well, though I feel so comfortable with you like I’ve somehow known you forever.”
He kissed her gently to stop her from saying anymore. “I’ve trusted you since that day you told my da I was lying about Sorrell climbing the tree, seeing how fiercely you protected your sister. And that trust deepened when you spoke to me and challenged me—and definitely frustrated me—like no other ever did or would attempt to do. You have my trust, my heart, and my love.”
She smiled and kissed him quick, glad her lips landed on his so perfectly, as if she could actually see them.
“I will keep them all safe and tucked away inside me,” she said. “Tell me what you found out.”
“Not going to let it go, are you?” he asked with a chuckle.
“To solve the puzzling mystery, we need all the pieces.”
Tarass relented and had a feeling he’d be relenting often to his wife. “I left shortly after your departure to visit with my mum’s people and see what they could tell me about the dead man with the markings on his body.”
He didn’t tell her that he’d left because the keep wasn’t the same without her there. Or more simply that he missed her, a revelation that had startled him. He left, thinking distance would change that. It had worsened it.
“I found someone, who told me what I’d already known myself, an elder in a tribe known to my mum’s people. He told me the man was probably a Pict, also known as the painted people, from northern Scotland, though he said no Pict had been seen for about two hundred or so years now. And it was not like they could be missed with the way they marked their bodies. He said they now mostly lived in the old tales and legends, since their time had come and long gone. I’m familiar with the legend of the Pict and knew they were no more. I still question whether the dead man was a Pict or not. I thought perhaps the dead man could be from one of the tribes far north that keep to themselves and are rarely seen, but I couldn’t confirm that.”
“I was told you have a marking on your arm? It is unusual to have one. Why do you?” she asked, curious.
“It’s a custom of my mum’s people, a single marking designating something that pertains to the individual. Mine shows I am a victorious warrior many times over.”
“I can attest to that since you’ve rescued me more than once and thankful I am for it,” she said, “which reminds me. That day you found me in the snowstorm. You mentioned you were meeting someone. Did it have anything to do with your parents?”