Page 140 of Bound

“Kessa,” Braum said once. Then again, when he did not seem to catch her attention in the least. “I’ll have to talk to her first.”

Kessa smoothed down the fabric of her tunic—unnecessary though it was as it was unmarred by the trip. “Of course. Poor dear. I’ll behave, I promise. I won’t embarrass you at all. If that helps with you convincing her to meet me.”

She smiled at him sweetly, and he grunted in response. He’d not argue with Wren. Not even for his sister. But he must admit, if only in the privacy of his own thoughts, that he hoped she would be willing. She’d hidden away for so long, regardless of the validity of her reasons, and he hoped... He hoped it might be different. He’d take his things from the cart and hug his sister and send her back home again, if that’s what she wanted. But... he would not deny that he could picture them all seated at the table. Watching as two of the women he loved most became friends.

Braum sighed and made his way toward the house.

He’d left Wren near the hearth, tucked in a blanket with a pile of wool in her lap. Most days he’d find her sleeping, her body jerking awake as she insisted she hadn’t napped at all. “Busy,” she’d say, holding up her progress. “See?”

And he’d nod and tell her what fine work she’d done, even if he did not quite know what she was crafting at all.

It would be rude to ask, wouldn’t it? Because surely if it was something as common as a sock, he might tell its shape. At the moment it resembled a small blanket, her rows tidy and neat, the yarn dyed to a deep green that was near to black.

She wasn’t sleeping today. Instead, her eyes were shadowed and worried, her mouth twisted as she chewed at her inner cheek.

“My belongings,” Braum explained, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing. “My sister brought them.”

She didn’t squeak. Didn’t flutter her hands and dart her eyes toward the ladder as if convincing herself not to hide away up there. Not that he would have allowed her to risk such a venture while she was still healing.

“You do not have to meet her,” Braum assured her. “I will thank her and send her back to our mother with her tales of your land alone, if that is what you wish.”

She was so pale, it worried him, and he almost—almost—went back out again without her answer. He’d protect her from anything, even his own sister, if that is what she needed of him.

But he could not deny his own disappointment.

It would pass.

There would be more occasions to try again. When she was better, more herself. When she was settled in her own room again and they’d sorted out this business of his and hers and theirs and...

“Braum,” Wren murmured as his hand was on the door latch. “Wait.”

He paused, but did not walk back toward her. There was little point when she looked so frightened of it already. He wanted to say it was all right. Wanted to offer her the assurances she needed that he would think no less of her, that she was safe.

He was here. Would stay with her.

She came first.

But the words were lodged beneath a hurt he did not want to acknowledge, and belatedly he realised she’d put her work aside and got to her feet. She was stronger today. She’d told him so. The careful movement of her hip that she insisted was not a limp at all was less pronounced than it had been.

She’d even begun to wear more than her shifts and warm wraps—although the addition of a flannel skirt overtop was not something he’d seen her wear before.

“Your sister should be welcome in your home,” Wren continued, and to her credit, her voice did not waver.

He did move then. Back toward her where he took her hand and threaded their fingers together. “I thought this was meant to be our home,” he reminded her, his voice gentle. He’d take nothing from her. Things might be shared if she was so amiable, but she would not have less because of their union. Not because of him.

She smiled. It was perhaps a little strained about the edges, but it was genuine all the same. “Our home, then. Mama...” she swallowed. Started again. “I don’t want to leave her out on the stoop. Not when she could have some tea and company for a while.”

He hugged her. It was not an action of choice, but of sheer impulse. And it was so delightfully easy to reach forward and pull her to him, to feel her warm and pliant as she relaxed against him. “Thank you,” he murmured into her hair, and he could sense her smile broadening even though he could not possibly see it.

“I did not say you were invited to join us.”

He feigned a deep hurt as he went back outside to fetch his sister.

???

Wren’s mouth twisted. Untwisted. Each time he glanced at her, she tried to smooth her features so he wouldn’t see that she was clearly displeased with the arrangements he’d made. It was simply a cot in the kitchen—not anything to fuss over. He would have offered to sleep in the stable again if he hadn’t already known her aversion to the idea.

She wanted him upstairs. And while he’d placed his trunk there—nestled beside hers in a way that was decidedly domestic and appealing—he simply could not abide the concept of sleeping there without her.