Chapter 8. Important

Behind him, one of his men laughed, mouth full. “That her? The girl you mentioned?”

Kaelen’s smile was faint. “That’s her.”

“Man, she’s good. Go get her.”

Kaelen said nothing.

But as the firelight flickered and his men joked and ate, his gaze remained fixed on the trees where she’d vanished—and the sensation in his chest refused to fade.

The men tore into Martha’s basket like wolves that hadn’t seen meat in weeks. Loaves disappeared in moments, passed from hand to hand with barely a word of thanks. Someone popped the lid off the stew, dipping a hunk of bread directly into the rich, herbed broth, while two others argued good-naturedly over who got the last wedge of cherry pie. It looked less like a search party and more like a fairground of boys unleashed from discipline—teeth flashing, laughter rising, appetite unchecked.

Kaelen lingered at the edge of the fire.

He didn’t move. Didn’t eat. His arms remained folded across his chest, eyes stil