So I deserve this. The whispers and turned backs; being shunned in the valley streets. If it weren’t for Gwen, I’d cut my losses and leave. Plenty of places need blacksmiths, and starting over is as easy as breathing.

But the thought of moving away from the farmer’s daughter—it guts me. Scrapes out my insides. Because without Gwen around… well. What’s it all for?

* * *

The knock on my door jolts me from yet another daydream. This one, I’ve been playing over and over in my head for the last few days: Gwen Roberts stretched out on my workbench, firelight flickering over her bare skin, my sooty hand prints leaving trails up and down her creamy curves—

Thump. Thump.

I push to my feet with a sigh, palms pressed into my kitchen table. I’ll probably never know how it ends.

Late afternoon sunshine spills through the windows as I cross my kitchen, and birds twitter faintly through the glass. But my heart is heavy as I stride to my front door, and I swear to god, if one more villager has come to warn me away from his wife and daughters, I don’t know what I’ll say. I’m not fucking interested in any of them, and even if I were, I’m no predator.

“Yes?” I jerk the door open then freeze. Gwen stands waiting, twisting her dark skirt between her hands, and tearing my eyes away from the flashes of bare knee is the hardest thing I’ve done in days.

Bright blue eyes wait for me, warm and worried. “Rhys Evans. Um. Hi.”

I raise an eyebrow, chest thumping. This can’t be good.

“Yes?” I repeat.

I don’t mean to be unkind but this girl is terrible for my self control, and the last thing I need right now is more rumors. Especially when she walked here dressed like that, her skirt whipping around her legs in the breeze and her gray sweater clinging to her hourglass curves. Bare, smooth calves showing above her cracked leather boots. Her cheeks are flushed, and freckles spread over her nose from the sun.

“I, um. I’m sorry to bother you, Mr Evans.” Gwen cringes, tripping over her words, and I hate that I make her so nervous. She never needs to be afraid of me.

My palm lifts. “Slow down, cariad. Tell me slowly what you need.”

I shouldn’t call her that, shouldn’t pretend that she’s mine, but now that I’ve started, I can’t seem to stop. And every time I say it, a pink tinge spreads over her cheeks.

“I…” As her words stall, Gwen’s eyes roam down my chest. Lingering on the buttons of my faded black shirt like she could flick them open by gaze alone. Fucking hell.

“Gwen.”

She flinches. “Sorry. I, um, wanted to ask for your advice. I know you moved here all alone, started over just like that, and I’m trying to find my own place to rent in the valley. And to get a job. Except it’s kind of confusing if you’ve never done it before, and I can’t exactly ask my family for help, and so…”