Once my guest had left, I could pick up where I left off in my work; however, I couldn't focus, and each time I would refocus myself, my meeting with Issac would distract me. The possibility of him being a bounty hunter and how dangerous he could be for me wasn't bothering me.
What bothered me was how my mind wouldn't stay off of him. From the moment I laid my eyes on this man from there, I couldn't stop thinking about the softness and calmness in those mesmerizing bright green eyes, his smile, the way he spoke, the energy coming from his aura, and how he carried himself overall.
I've lived a long life, traveling from one region to another and meeting people one after another. No one has ever made my heart flutter and caught my attention as quickly as Issac has with just a glance and a conversation. I'm not ignorant of the concept of an admirer, but in my previous line of work, such distractions were meaningless to me; anything that didn't have anything to do with my goals or revenge wasn't permitted in my life.
I refused to have something as trivial as affection hold me back, drag me down, or be used as an advantage for my downfall; However, I was not only amused but conflicted and terrified now in my isolation; these "feelings" were attempting to be a distraction once again.
"What's got your mind in such a frenzy?" Feign asked as he came into the room and sat beside the desk.
I sighed, looking at the wanted poster pinned to the wall by a dagger. "My mind is always in a frenzy."
"True, but not like this." Feign looked at the poster. "What are you going to do about it?"
"There's nae much I can do, Feign," I said.
"We could leave? That's always an option."
I looked down at him. "'N' draw attention to ourselves? If Issac is a bounty hunter, that would raise suspicion," I sighed, looking around the room. "Honestly, I've taken a liking 'ere, minus th' village, bit th' area is quiet, peaceful 'n' I have no problem bein' alone."
Feign scoffed. "I wouldn't call a bounty hunter showing up to your doorstep being alone."
I stood up, stretching. "Na wanted poster shows my face 'n' I've never given my actual name. As lang, as I keep my disguise 'n' remain out o' trauchle everything, should remain th' wey it is."
Feign yawned. "If you say so…Where are you going?"
"I'm aff to th' merkat." I said, summoning my coin bag and inspecting the amount inside.
"I thought you hated going into the village."
"I do, but I'm low and oot o' some herbs' n' spices I immediately need," I said, putting on my cloak and grabbing my basket. "Also, I'm waantin' tae see if I can fin' something fur supper tonight."
Feign stood up, but I waved him away. "Ye don't hae tae come wi' me. I won't be gone long."
"Scarlette, you're not going alone," Feign said. "Those humans are unpredictable."
"'N' I said ye don't need tae. Besides, wi' yet logic, I would need someone 'ere watching th' cottage while I'm away."
Feign growled a bit. "There you go again, using me as your guard dog."
I rolled my eyes, pulling my hood up. "Ye keep saying that, bit whit else urr ye going tae do? It's not lik' ye can leave."
"Don't remind me. I would love nothing more to end this bond between us."
"Aye, sure… I'll be back afore midday." I said. "If I'm needin' ye I will ca' fur ye."
Feign sighed, following me as I walked out, and he curled up in front of the fireplace. "Just be careful and try not to cause a scene."
I opened the door. "Sin ye'r not going wi' me, I don't hae tae worry aboot anythin' going wrong. I don't need ye suddenly biting a'body who gawks at me wrong."
Feign growled, his head suddenly lifting. "I will not apologize for biting a potential threat."
"With that attitude is why ye'r staying 'ere," I said.
"Just go!"
I laughed as I stepped outside and closed the door behind me, tracing a glowing pattern into the wood and placing a protection spell over it. When I turned around, I was greeted with a lovely gust of wind. Upon the breeze is carried, the aroma of the landscape, from rain-quenched soils to the evergreen foliage, soothes my woodland heart.
The breeze tousled my hair and pinked my cheeks as I walked the thoroughfare. The warmth in the wind a whole moon cycle ago had evaporated into the sky or leached into the Earth. I gazed toward the sky, the sun's rays golden, divinely warm upon my chilled skin. And in the light, the carpet of leaves became a natural bling, as if the Earth had found the confidence to wear such goddess-given jewels.
As I walked in silence, my thoughts drifted once more unto Issac, and I frowned, forcing them away again, annoyed that he was the center of attention. What made my mind so infatuating he couldn't stay out of it? Of course, he wasn't an ordinary man, and I was very much intrigued to find out what he was; however, morbid curiosity should be the end, yet it was striving past that.
Bewitchment has always crossed my mind; many could enchant and cause the most powerful and determined of men and women to swoon with their stalwart confidence and a straightforward gaze in their eyes.
I could easily accept the possibility as the answer, figure out how to break the enchantment, and move on with my life. Still, then again, I would be an ignorant fool. I knew all too well what love spells felt like; fake love only caused my body and emotions to worsen, yet this didn't feel like that. My heart fluttered, my curiosity intrigued tenfold, and I blushed quickly in his presence.
I groaned lightly, pounding my fist against my forehead. "Ahhh… why do ye have to plague my thoughts so badly."
I barely heard the cart rolling behind me as I pondered the situation.
"Get out of the way!" The driver yelled, his loud breaking my concentration.
I stepped out of the way just as the galloping hooves of the horse rode past me, pulling along a wooden cart filled with crates and other merchandise.
The driver turned his head to stare down at me. "Bloody daft woman!! Are you trying to get trampled?!"
I sighed and smiled as the cart headed through the gate into Lyngager, having half a mind to cause the driver a little accident, but decided a poor cart driver wasn't worth facing the consequences.
I came to a halt and stood staring at the gate. It was open on one side yet was so broad that anything, including the merchandise cart, could pass. As I pass through, I let my hand touch the ambient metal, no longer hot from the rising, not cold from the evening or morning air.
I glanced around at my surroundings, unimpressed with the view. Lyngager itself always looked plain. Every building was made with shingle rooftops that looked like the strongest gust of winds could ruin them. The walls of every establishment were made of stone or brick, the surfaces washed and withered with age and the results of many rainstorms.
I walked the cracked, cobbled streets. I felt the eyes turning my way as I passed. Some were kind enough to acknowledge my presence, asking how I've been or when I would be making my trips to check in with the ill and sell my healing remedies. However, while I had a few conversations, others stayed silent and glared at me suspiciously.
Still, in an awkward fleeting moment, the ones who starred longer than most inadvertently caught my eyes. When our eyes met, they hurriedly looked away, their faces etched with distaste as if I'd done something wrong, almost as if they felt offended and fearful by my presence.
I would smile and continue unbothered by their stairs and ill-will auras. Many villagers were grateful for all I've done for them and continued to express their gratitude. Yet, the ones who didn't tend to ignore me, throw insults, and treat me as an outsider. Still, I learned a long time ago that no matter how many good deeds you've done, in their eyes, all I am to them is a weird woman who loves to live alone in the woods.
The market wasn't big, although it was busy. Mid-morning trips to the market were always a chore. The square was crowded with many stalls selling sacks of nuts, fresh and dried fruits, and various types of meat. The air smelled heavenly from the multiple spices spilled out of loads as large as feed bags, a bundle of herbs, and food roasting on skewers from the food stalls.
I paused for a moment to survey the vivid scene. Lovers strolled hand in hand, casually browsing, while housewives hustled, bustled, and haggled over the merchandise prices while handling upset and rowdy children.
When I entered the market, my regular merchants called out to me, waving me over to show me newly imported items or merchandise they knew I would be interested in. As much as I was a sucker for antiques and collectibles, I had to politely decline and hurry off to gather the things I needed, not wanting to be sidetracked or haggled into buying anything that wasn't immediate.
I weaved effortlessly through the crowd, edging through the dense flow of people, my basket becoming full of produce, spices, herbs, and meats. I usually don't buy a lot, but keeping up with Feigns' appetite puts a massive hole in my inventory and funds.
"Maybe I got tae much…." I said as I counted the remaining coins in my bag. "Th' rest should lest me 'til I can sell again."
"Well, look who finally decided to grace our humble village with her presence…."
I frowned, not having to turn around to know who that condescending tone belonged to. "Good morning…Cillian."
Mrs. Thompson made a noise between a grunt and a scoff. "Don't use that tone with me. I am your elder; that's Mrs. Thompson to you."
I nearly laughed... If only she knew I was decades older than her.
I gave a short, halfhearted smile as I faced the "older" woman. "My apologies, Mrs. Thompson."
Mrs. Thompson, like her husband, was an unpleasant woman. She was not overly old, but her face had aged so much that she wore the wizened features of an old crone. The occasional strand of her once golden hair could still be seen through the lifeless grey braid under her hat that didn't do well framing her aging face.
Many peaks and trenches wrinkled her forehead, probably caused by years of consistent scowling, which unflatteringly crowned eyes that permanently harbored a disdainful glare, shadowing their beautifully unique shade of blue, and her face seemed drained of any signs of joy or amusement. Instead, her frumpy cheeks told a tale of regular displeasure.
"You finally show your face like a normal person." Mrs. Thompson said, her wrinkled hands on her hips.
"I just came tae restock my pantry," I said, trying to remain friendly despite feeling and seeing the hateful, wicked aura emitting from her,
Mrs. Thompson groaned. "Must you speak with such a vexatious rhythm?"
I grew annoyed as this woman continued to insult me, accompanied by a few unpleasant and harsh thoughts. I funneled all my strength into keeping them just thoughts.
"Ye'r ignorance ne'er ceases tae amaze me, Mrs. Thompson." I glanced over at Mr. Thompson, who stood behind his wife, but his eyes wandered around at the young women who passed. "Morning, Mr. Thompson."
Mr. Thompson quickly looked away, tilting his hat to me. "Oh, uh, Morning Scarlette."
"Did th' tonic I gave ye lest nicht help wi' yer sleep problem?"
Mrs. Thompson stepped in front of her husband, a flare of anger on her face. "So the bloody rumors were true?!"
I looked at her, confused. "Rumors?"
"I got word from some of the farmer's wives that they've seen my husband riding back into town late in the evening. They say he was coming from the direction of your cottage." Mrs. Thompson said, catching her husband and me off guard.
I stared at the angry woman before me, expecting this to be some joke. I glanced into her eyes and saw the seriousness behind them; suddenly, laughter escaped my mouth. It came timid at first, stopping then starting until I laughed uncontrollably. My breath came in quick gasps between unstoppable giggles, and tears gathered in the corner of my eyes, threatening to spill over.
"Y-Ye…" More laughter. "Ye think I want yer husband?" I asked, failing miserably to get myself under control. "Mrs. Thompson, afore ye going accusing me o' anythin', I can assure ye that nothing-"
Mrs. Thompson took a step forward while I took a step back. "Don't you lie to me, charlatan. I know the type of woman you are," She looked me up and down through disgusted eyes. "You people always use your charms and body to seduce married men."
I chuckled, yet my eyes twitched slightly as my calm facade faded. "Ye know wee o' me if ye'r accusing me o' something I didn't do."
Mrs. Thompson wasn't amused, her face reddened with anger, and once brown aura began darkening. "You think this is funny?!"
"Tis' damn near hilarious," I said. "I don't want yer husband. He's auld enough tae be my faither. Na offense."
Mr. Thompson only shrugged his attention back on the passing women.
I looked back at Mrs. Thompson, my smile gone. "False knowledge is worse than ignorance, especially when tis used against someone."
"Excuse me?"
"Ye heard me, ye'r always quick tae accuse someone whin ye haven't witness anythin' wi' yet own eyes," I said. "'N' ye better heed my warning Cillian, yer false accusations ur going tae git someone murdered one-day 'n' that blood wull be on yer hands."
I took a step toward her giving her a sarcastic smile. "Besides, say th' rumors wur true. I wouldn't hae to hurl a finger tae destroy yer mairriage, ye'r doing that all on yer own."
Before I could get another word, Mrs. Thompson stepped towards me and raised her hand, slapping me across the face. "You harlot! You adulterer! You…you….CHARLATAN!"
I didn't say anything. The slap didn't hurt, but it did cause the surface level of my skin to tingle. I was stunned and lost in that moment of anger. My eyes narrowed, my jaw tightened, and the inability to think soon followed. The rational Scarlette had hidden, and the primitive Scarlette who reverted to her old habits had taken over.
I was aware we were still in the midst of the market; passing eyes had stopped and stared at the commotion; however, slowly, my peaceful opinions were gone, and my ability for nuance and emotional generosity were gone too. Then without thinking, I was moving, and my hand went across Mrs. Thompson's face just as hard as the force, causing her to stumble back, but not without tripping over her feet and falling to the ground.
"Scarlette!" Feigns voice came thundering, and I knew he was angry from the tone. "What to hell do you think you're doing?!"
She started it. I replied.
"That doesn't mean you finish it! What did I say about laying low and not causing any trouble?"
She put her hands on me first. I was returning the gesture.
Feign groaned. "Scarlette…"
I know I should have had more restraint, but in my defense, you know I don't handle anyone putting their hands on me.
I felt Feigns' annoyance at my comment. "And you dare to point at my bad temper."
Mr. Thompson quickly aided his wife, glaring at me. "Did you just lay your hands on my wife?!"
"I did 'n' now maybe yer wife wull understand tae keep her hands tae herself," I said.
"Who the hell do you think you are striking her the way you did?!" Mr. Thompson helped his wife to his feet and placed her behind him. The same anger he reviled last night returned to his eyes, and his aura darkened to an almost black color.
He raised his fist to strike me. "Seems I need to teach you to know your place."
I narrowed my eyes, summoning a dagger under my cloak. He needs a reminder of last night, after all.
"Don't you do it!" Feign yelled.
Mr. Thompson went to strike at me, and little did he know I was waiting for him to make contact; however, the connection never came, and a hand grabbed my wrist, holding my arm under my cloak.
The hand touching me caused my skin to go warm, and the fluttering in my stomach returned. I looked up at the man who had caught Mr. Thompson's hand and who dared to touch me in such a casual manner but froze, halting my frustrations seeing it was Issac.
Issac looked at Mr. Thompson, who struggled to pull his hand from his grasp. His gaze was calm, but I knew he was far from calm from how his aura grew jagged and darkened in color.
"You ought ter be ashamed av yerself." Issac said, "Raisin' yer hand against a defenseless lady."
I frowned. Defenseless?
"You shut your mouth, you better be glad he stopped you, or you would be in chains."
Issac's grip tightened on my wrist, and I saw him take a glance at me.
I stared at him momentarily but let the dagger disappear from my hand, and his grip loosened.
"This doesn't concern you. Just mind your business." Mr. Thompson as he struggled to pull his hand away from Issac's grip. "And let me go."
"Not if you're gonna be barbaric an' keep attemptin' ter strike dis lady 'ere." Issac said.
"I wouldn't go far as calling this harlot a lady." Mrs. Thompson said, but staying behind her husband. "Women from her region love seducing and bedding married men. Besides, look at what she's wearing; that outfit is far from ladylike."
"All I see is article appropriate for doin' chores," He said. "But I wouldn't be judging someone be unladylike wi' an attitude loike dat."
Mrs. Thompson gasped. "How dare you!"
Issac sighed, pushing Mr. Thompson's fist back. "Listen, before dis situashun gets any more out av hand and someone gets 'urt how aboyt we each just go our separate ways?"
Mrs. Thompson pushed past her husband. "No! This harlot slapped me, and you think I should walk away? She's lucky I'm not reporting her to the Overseer for assault."
"Oh? But I could 'av swore I saw yer strike 'er first.." Issac said.
Mrs. Thompson frowned, starting to get angry again. "I'm his secretary; it's my word against some charlatan trying to seduce and take away a married man."
I sighed, adjusting the basket on my arm. "'N' I said, Cillian, I don't want yer husband. Na woman in this village wants yer husband."
She took a step forward, but Issac stepped in front of her. "Madame, let's refrain from usin' vulgar insults. Yer strike 'er first, an' she retaliated just accept de consequences av yer acshuns an' move on."
It was Mr. Thompson's turn to step before his wife, inches from Issac's face. "I don't know who you are, son, or where you came from, but I am not going to have some foreigner and some barbaric woman with no training to stay in her place disrespect my wife."
I couldn't see Issac's face, but the way his aura became jagged and darkened, I knew his patience was running thin. "If you're gonna continue ter be insultin' I suggest yer walk away."
Mr. Thompson was about to say something, but the words never left his mouth. He stared at Isaac; his eyes were dilated, a sweat broke out on his skin, and he started trembling. All clear signs of someone being frightened.
Now that's…interesting.
"Indeed," Feign agreed. "I saw this human scared only when you put the fear of his god into him."
"Walk..away.." Issac repeated, his voice still quiet, yet I could hear the anger behind it. "Now."
Mr. Thompson took a step back, grabbing his wife by the shoulders. "Come on Cillian, let's go."
Mrs. Thompson looked up at him in disbelief. "What do you mean let's go? You'll do what he says after you saw me get assaulted?!"
"I said, let us go!" Mr. Thompson yelled, causing her to flinch.
Mrs. Thompson gave me one last glare. "This isn't over bitch." She said, then turned on her husband, and soon they argued. The atmosphere quickly changes from hostile to awkward and unsettling.
My eyes glanced unceremoniously around, attempting to avoid catching the eyes of the bystanders as judging whispers swirled the air. I took a few steps back while pulling up my hood until I quietly and quickly blended into the crowd before they finally acknowledged my presence.
"You sure know oy' ter slip into a crowd," Issac called behind me.
I paused, surprised and surprised by how quickly and effortlessly he could find me through the crowd.
"I'm impressed ye wur able tae catch up tae me," I said.
Issac shrugged. "It's what I've been trained to do." He glanced back into the crowd and scoffed. "Are you always this resentful of the villagers?" He asked, walking closer to me, and I was surprised I didn't instinctively take a step back.
"Only whin thair bothering me."
Issac chuckled a bit. "I see Fate has had us meet for a second time."
"It would seem that wey. Home come are ye 'ere?" I asked.
"I was wayfaring the area after checking into the Inn when I heard the commotion," Issac said.
I turned to face him, and our eyes made contact. He stood close to me, staring down at me with those eyes that looked deeply into my own, and when he smiled, my heart began beating erratically.
I quickly looked away as if averting my eyes would soon break the enchantment he was trying to place on me. "I suppose I should thank ye."
"No need." He said. "I just can't stand the sight of someone unnecessarily harming a lady." His smile grew to form into a smirk. "Even though I feel you've been fine without my help."
I scoffed, smirking on my own. "Maybe, maybe not. We would ne'er know because ye did come to tae hulp me. Most men' ere wouldn't git involved."
Issac frowned. "Shame; I couldn't imagine anyone not wanting to help a woman in danger, especially one as charming as yourself."
I wish I didn't blush so fast that I should still have some of my ability to keep my emotions to myself. In an instant, my cheeks were warm, and I knew anyone watching could see my feelings as if I had spoken them out loud.
"My…My…A gentleman 'n' a flatterer, yer lassie must be a very lucky tae hae ye in her life." I said and mentally cursed myself for doing so. Why did I say something like that? I cared neither here nor there about him other than satisfying my curiosity about what he was. Let alone his affairs.
"If I were to have one, then I'm sure she would be," He said, giving me another smile.
Our eyes made contact again, and I feared he knew what I was thinking. Truthfully, his vast charisma was becoming quite a handful, more than I could take at once. Each time we made eye contact, the way he smiled and every word he spoke was causing a reaction. And each time the feelings got worse, more and more, I wondered if these feelings were my own and if I was really in the process of being bewitched by this man.
"I um…I best be going, Issac," I said quickly, turning away. "I hae a lot o' chores needing tae to be done afore th' day is out. Thank ye again."
I need to get as far away from this man as I can. Something doesn't feel right.
"Scarlette, I would love ter trate yer to a meal. I would loike ter return de 'ospitality you've shown me earlier." He called out.
I stopped. "Excuse me?"
"I'm askin' yer ter come join me for dinner tonight," Issac said. "As ter show my appreciashun, nathin' more." He quickly added, and I heard the nervousness in his otherwise calm tone. Under different circumstances, I would have found the gesture charming if I were a few decades younger.
Was he asking me out as his…escort?
"It seems that way…why are your thoughts in a jumble? This shouldn't be up for debate."
I sighed, rolling my eyes. Of course, I'm not going to say yes. I'm not that stupid.
"He's probably getting suspicious of you."
He can't possibly know who I am from two brief interactions.
"That's true, but think back to what he said earlier. The one he's hunting has been clever at disappearing into crowds without notice. When you took yourself out of that human situation probably raised some suspicions."
I don't know Feign… That's reaching quite far.
"You're right. I could be overthinking it, but you've already seen his control over his aura and how quickly he could spot you after you distanced yourself. This man is quite knowledgeable, maybe more intelligent than you."
I frowned. Watch it.
"Scarlette, if this man is a bounty hunter and from what you saw from him, even if they were short interactions, you can't deny he can be an accredited hunter. I wouldn't be surprised if the Parliament hired him."
So you're saying this man is attempting to lower my guard, hoping I slip up?
"It's possible…He has to use some enchantment or natural power; how else would you explain why you seem so infatuated with him?"
The thought crossed my mind…but part of me didn't want to believe it…
Fein sighed. "I don't blame you. If he is certified, then his job is to be deceitful. You know the saying…By any means necessary."
I didn't reply. Feign had a point; certified bounty hunters, the ones who were supposedly masters of their crafts and dangerous when it came to hunting, were loved by the Parliament for their efficiency in collecting a bounty, no matter how difficult, and were permitted under the Crown to do it legally without consequence.
All the Parliament has ever sent in an attempt to collect my head were unrefined assassins and mercenaries. Each time I sent them back, they could not remember their name, were missing limbs, or were in ashes.
However, this man, Issac, was in a league of his own, and now I understood just what type of bounty hunter he could be. The fact he was trying to lower my guard by being everything a woman wants in a gentleman made my blood boil and my temper rise.
Well…if he wants to attempt to deceive me, I'll help him understand who he's hunting. He's not the only one who's a master of their craft.
"Scarlette…please don't let your pride and short temper cause you to do something stupid."
I ignored Feign and turned to face Issac. "I'll tell ye what, Issac. If Fate should hae us meet fur a third time, I'll accept yer offer."
I turned to walk away and disappeared into the crowd before I could hear an answer.
"What are you doing?" Feign asked, and I felt the defeat in his words.
If he knows who I am and is just jesting with me, I will send him back to the Parliament with his eyes, tongue, and hands missing. Maybe then they'll get to the point of leaving me the fuck alone.
"Honestly, that's the most exciting thing you've said all week."