Emerging from the house was the old woman who owned it. She sent Ossian a wink, then headed down the lane from whence she’d come.
“What do ye mean, cousin?” She tried not to grin. The reason he always played the husband was so she wouldn’t be bothered while he was away. If he was going to come home every night, he could go back to being her cousin. “Are ye done with livin’ by the sword, then? Will ye raise chickens? Please tell me ye’re not going to come home every night smellin’ like fish.”
Ossian grimaced. “Nay, lassie. I doona plan to smell much like fish.”
“What then?” She released him and stepped back. Then she folded her arms and mustered the sternest look she could. For the first time she could remember, he returned the stare.
“Isobelle.”
A bad sign, that. He only ever called her Izzy, even when they were children, unless he was angry with her.
He took a big breath and huffed it out, then tilted his head back as if preparing to take a blow on the chin. She fisted her hands to oblige him if needed. “After the trouble at the convent, how close ye came to marryin’ God and all, I started to thinkin’.”
“Ossian,” she warned.
“Ye need to marry, and that’s plain. The men will never leave ye be until ye are.”
She shook her head. “It never matters where we are. The men never left me be when they thoughtyewere my husband. The lie was folly. I see that now.”
“Aye. The lie was folly. In time, men came to realize it was a lie. I told the old woman ye’re me cousin, that we’re hoping ye find a good man to marry?—”
She swung with all her might, but Ossian caught her wrist. She cried out from the pain of it.
“Ye’ll marry, Isobelle.” He shook her fist until her hand relaxed. “Ye’ll marry, and I… I’ll be returnin’ home, Izzy. To Scotland. I’ve never once caused trouble. And I’m finished with coddlin’ ye. Monty himself would ask no more of me.”
She shook her head quickly. “But ye promised!”
“I promised to see ye settled.”
“And happy.”
“Weel, since I’ve already tried and failed at that, I’ll let yer husband worry about the happiness bit. Signora Crescento will see that only the kindest of men are allowed to court ye. Men who will be patient with ye while ye learn the language.”
Ignoring the pain of her breaking heart and bruised wrist, Isobelle put her hands on her hips and gave her cousin a murderous look. “I’ll not marry without love, Ossian. And the only way a man can love me is if ye sew me lips together. Ye’ve said so all our lives. Deny it if ye can.”
Her cousin closed his eyes and shook his head in denial, but it was more likely he was denying he could hear anything at all.
“We were all witness to the love between Ivar and Morna. Ye canna expect me to marry a man that canna love me completely, to be reminded every day that my life is lacking.”
“Signora Crescento will find a kind man?—”
“I’ll drive a kind man to do unkind things. Ye’ve said that as well.”
Ossian snorted, but though he couldn’t deny her arguments, he didn’t appear to be relenting.
“Ye canna leave me in the old woman’s hands, Ossian. She doesna speak English or Scots!”
“I am sorry, lass. This house costs a fair piece, aye? I’m off to find work on a merchant ship. The Turks are a menace these days, and I hear tell a man with a keen sword arm can make a fine livin’; but a man with a crossbow can make four times that. Since I can wield both, I reckon I’m worth me weight in gold,eventually. I’d be given a share of the captain’s quarters as well. Does that not sound like Paradise?”
“Nay, Ossian,” she said, bowing her head. “The only thing that sounds like Paradise is Scotland.”
“Isobelle, mauvournin’. For ye, there is no Scotland. All of Clan Ross, save yer brother and Cousin Ewan, believe yer still inside that tomb. If others learn ye escaped, it will be yer head in a noose and the three of us hangin’ beside ye. Would ye wish that?”
Isobelle shook her head and walked away. With no better ideas for swaying her cousin, she headed toward the end of the street and the wall and sea beyond. She’d have to allow her sadness to ebb away before she’d set a slipper inside the sunny little house. If not, it would be no better than the tomb she’d once escaped.
A husband? A Venetian for a husband? An unloving husband of any sort was a curse to be avoided. But a husband whom she could not understand?Ridiculous.
She smiled at a little girl who looked up from her collection of shells and rocks to see who had brought a shadow to her wall. The rocks were rough but warm beneath Isobelle’s hands and she bid their peace and silence to ease her mind. And there, in the warmth of the southern sun, an idea began to sprout.
