The Ghost by Greyson, Maeve (best motivational books to read .txt) 📕

why he had left to seek his fortune at such a young age. Ironic. Since now, he preferred the peace of solitude and shied away from closeness. Closeness meant pain. Loss of friends in battle. His mother’s murder.

And yet now he had a son. A child to worry about and protect. While he didn’t wish to live in the noisiness of a keep such as Tor Ruadh, he would do so for the sake of the lad. A child needed kith and kin. “He would have friends and safety at Tor Ruadh.”

“I thought ye said it was his choice,” she dared. “Deceit?”

He gave a slow shake of his head. “Nay, woman. If the lad doesna wish to come with me, I willna force my opinions on him. I have made many a mistake in my life. I hope to do right by my son and not scar him with the same choices that scarred me.”

The tension appeared to ease out of her as she studied him for the span of several heartbeats. Without a word, she resumed her tidying of the area as though their conversation had never happened.

Magnus’s hopes rose. At least, she seemed to believe what he had said. He hoped so. He also hoped if Keigan went to Tor Ruadh that she would come, too. It wouldn’t be right to leave her here all alone—so vulnerable and unprotected. Nay, he could never do that and have any peace of mind. Not after all she had already endured.

Keigan’s laughter warned them the lads would be upon them soon, so Magnus made a show of flicking branches and leaves back into the bushes. Funny how he hadn’t noticed the noise of lashing wind and rain so much. He had been too distracted by the storm inside the dwelling.

“See the throwers Auntie made?” Keigan asked, holding up several long shards of stone as he approached. “She chipped and ground their edges ’til they were sharp as blades and just the right weight.”

Magnus examined one of the flint missiles, impressed with its design. “Fine work.” He looked up and forced himself not to smile when he caught Brenna watching him, as though his opinion mattered. “How did ye know how to create such a thing? ’Tis quite impressive, and I’m sure, verra effective.”

She gave a slight shrug. “Ye work with whatever the good Lord gives ye.” With an affectionate nod at Keigan, she pulled several more from her skirt pocket. “We spent many an evening this past winter perfecting our workmanship. Did we not, Keigan?”

“Aye,” Keigan said as he lobbed one missile at a nearby tree that had been used for target practice before. He closed one eye, aimed again, and threw another. “Auntie’s better than me with making them, but I can throw them good as her.” He motioned toward the target, then nodded at the stone Magnus held. “Ye try.” With a wink, he added, “It’s nay as easy as ye think.”

Magnus hefted the shard, studied the target, then let the stone fly, missing the tree completely.

Evander guffawed. “Did ye miss it on purpose? It canna be that hard to hit a tree with a rock.”

Irritated at both himself and Evander, Magnus jerked a thumb in the boy’s direction. “He knows so much. Let him try.” He stepped aside. The cocky little arse wipe would see it was easier said than done. The weight of the thing had a mind of its own, causing it to fly off-kilter.

Brenna stood quietly to one side, merriment sparkling in her eyes.

Keigan grinned and passed a stone to Evander. “Here. This is my lucky one. It never misses.”

The cocky lad made a show of checking the weight of the rock and aiming at the target, only to miss it completely, just as Magnus had done.

“Why, Evander—did ye miss the tree on purpose to make me feel better? Ye didna have to do that, but I thank ye for yer concern.” Magnus fixed the youngling with a smug stare, certain to rub his fur the wrong way.

“Gimme another one of those flints.” Evander tried again, missing the tree by an even greater distance. “Son of a whore!” he growled.

“Evander!” Magnus strode over and thumped the boy on the back of the head. “Apologize for yer coarse language in front of a lady. I know yer mother taught ye better.”

The lad ducked his head. “Forgive me, Mistress Brenna. I meant no disrespect.”

“Ye are forgiven.” The corners of Brenna’s mouth twitched, betraying her struggle not to smile.

“Ye hold them like this,” Keigan said as he took Magnus’s hand and placed the rock in a specific position in his palm. “Ye keep yer thumb there.” The boy folded his digit over the thick end of the shard, pressing it in a slight indentation of the flint. “And ye keep yer forefinger stretched out along it just so.” He fiddled with Magnus’s hold until it was set to suit him. With a nod, he stepped back. “Try it now. Dinna throw it hard. Just aim and let loose of it. Kinda sling it. The weight of the rock does the work.”

Doing his best to follow the child’s instructions, Magnus threw the missile, overjoyed when it thunked into the tree and stuck. “I did it!”

“Well done,” Brenna praised. She nodded at Evander, who stood pouting a few steps away. “Now, help Evander. He needs to learn, too.”

Magnus stepped out of the way, moving to stand beside Brenna. “With those stone knives, the two of ye would be dangerous foes.”

She gave him a side-eyed glare. “Dinna make fun of us. We do what we must for protection.”

“I didna speak in jest, lass. Yer crafted knives are verra impressive, and the way ye wield them, even more so.” When he detected a hint of a smile and pride in her stance, he breathed easier. Winning this fair lass’s trust would be no small feat.

Evander crowed, “I hit it! Look! I hit it!”

“Well done!” Keigan bragged.

“I believe he’s prouder of him than