She just couldn’t seem to do it.
“I’m sorry ye were disappointed, cousin.” She would not lie and say she was sorry.
“Oh, aye. I was.” He took a deep breath, then another. “But then I happened upon another man who offered me a position on an island in the Laguna Viva, on one of the octagonal islands, where they gather to defend against the Turkish ships. A prettyprice, he was willing to pay me, seasoned warrior that I am. I thought I might finally be able to hire a guard or two to see ye safe, that ye’d need not marry if ye didna care to.”
Isobelle said nothing, hoping the strange tone in his voice meant he’d reconsidered that proposition as well.
“But as soon as we’d parted ways, another man came to me and told the same tale, that the captain had decided not to trust a Scot. Can ye believe it? Not to trusta Scot?”
“Oh, Ossian.” She shook her head. “What could they be thinking? ‘Tis plain ye’re more able than most. But why not trust a Scot?”
There was a familiar niggling in the back of her mind, wondering if someone’s distrust of anyone Scottish had something to do with her. But the only trouble she’d caused since arriving in Venice was to anger a bunch of nuns. And if they were cloistered, how could they have aught to do with seamen? Or men of war?
The only unkindness she’d done since then was to send six men away—only one of whom might have been disgruntled enough to cause trouble for her. But if he had set his sights on her, why would he not wish for Ossian to leave the city?
Her cousin shook his head. “All I can imagine,” he said, “is that some other Scotsman has ruined our reputation in one way or ‘tother.”
Isobelle nodded. That made as much sense as anything else. But as much as she wanted her cousin close, she would not have him insulted. Ossian was a braw, brave man who commanded respect. He was fair and honorable. And considering his talent with most weapons, his loyalty was a boon beyond price.
Righteous indignation filled her gullet and she wished she could champion her cousin’s cause in some way. It was the least she could do, after the man had put his life aside to help savehers. And he’d risked that same life for her a dozen times over since they’d left their beloved Scotland.
“What can I do, Ossian? Who are these cowards who would imagine ye to be untrustworthy? Surely there is someone who would give ye the chance to prove yerself. That is all ye need, mavournin’. One chance to earn their fine opinion.”
Ossian smiled at her then, and she felt as if she’d finally done something to make the man happy. Had she never told him before how proud she was to call him cousin? Or husband? Whichever the moment required?
“Auch, but I’m pleased to hear ye say such a thing, Izzy. For ‘tis true I was beginning to think ye a selfish woman to want me with ye forever more.”
Isobelle gave him a shove and he nearly stepped on her precious garden of dirt.
“Yer a fine man, Ossian,” she said. “Even if ye are daft as a pike. Did I not tell ye? Signora Crescento has already been draggin’ every male in Venice past our door for inspection. I’ll have yer arse replaced in but a day or two.” She didn’t plan to tell him she’d rejected every one of them, or that she would continue to reject all suitors.
Ossian walked around her and headed inside. “Glad I am to hear it, Izzy. For I did find a man who wishes to give me that chance to prove my worth. In fact, he has such faith in me, he’s already paid me a reward for signing on. I dinna think he’ll be reconsidering like the others. And since we leave tonight, with the tide, he won’t have much of a chance to do so, aye?”
She took a handful of his shirt and jerked Ossian backward. He moved quickly, but was unable to stop himself from landing on that arse she’s just referred to.
“Yer a daft, daft man, Ossian Ross. Just because I said it, doesna mean I meant it.”
“Weel,” he said with a shrug. “As long as I’m already down here, I may as well tell ye the rest of it. Save ye the need to knock me doon again.”
Isobelle closed her eyes for a moment, putting off the inevitable. But what could possibly be worse news than Ossian leaving her at the mercy of Venetians, while he danced about on a ship waiting for attacks that rarely came?
He rested his arms on his knees and waited.
“Out with it then,” she spat.
He gave a nod. “The ship is leaving for the New World of Columbus, Isobelle. I dinna ken when I’ll be back. If I’ll be back, ye ken?”
She let the news sweep through her, taking her breath and leaving its mark on her heart. The day she’d been dreading had arrived, the day Ossian would leave her for good. She’d overheard enough on their latest voyage to know that hundreds of men and entire ships failed to return from the New World, which meant danger—which meant her fearless cousin wouldn’t be able to resist it. She only wondered how long he’d been hoping for just such an opportunity. If he hadn’t been bound to her, he likely would have left Scotland for such a temptation.
Finally, she nodded and backed toward the front of the house. “Me supper’s getting cold.”
He puffed out his chest. “And what of my supper?”
“I suggest ye go find some foostypesceand stuff yerself.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gaspar was at war.
