how strongly she would cling to her harsh opinion of husbands—indeed, of men in general, if he was not mistaken. He hoped she would not prove intractable on the subject. So bonnie a lass should not go through life alone, not when she would so clearly make any man an excellent and delightfully stimulating partner.
She paused twice to gather herbs on the way but still had not replied to his question when they entered the hut, where the only light came from a narrow golden path of sunlight spilling through the open portion of the doorway.
“Why so quiet, lass?” he asked. “Is Hector Reaganach not tyrannical?”
“He is always kind to me unless I do something to displease him,” she said.
“Ah, but then he becomes tyrannical.”
“Nay. He knows how to make me sorry, to be sure, but he is a fair man. Certainly he has been kinder than my father, but both are exceedingly domineering men, sir, as is every other man I have met. That is simply the nature of men.”
“Is it? I expect you would know more than I about that,” he said.
“Aye, for my sisters’ husbands all expect the sun and moon to rise by their wants and desires, and my sisters to exert themselves at all times to please them, although those same husbands show small consideration for their wives.”
“Most vexatious, I agree.”
“Well, it is,” she said, giving him a look that told him she suspected him of mocking her. Instantly confirming his deduction, she said with a decisive nod, “You are teasing me, but do you not agree that life would be more pleasant and peaceful if men were not continually fighting each other as they do? Women’s lives certainly would be if men were not always making demands upon them, or making war with their neighbors, or dashing off to Spain or other foreign places where they might get themselves killed even more easily than at home.”
“And all the beasts should be at peace?”
Her eyes narrowed. “My aunt often quotes verses from the Bible, too, sir, when she wishes to make a point. ’Tis a most annoying habit.”
“Aye, well, I was more likely misquoting from it,” he said. “Do you compare our plight now to a war?”
“Is it not similar?” she asked, gesturing toward the door. “Those horrid men!”
Michael was adept at recognizing thin ice before he fell through it. If she linked Waldron’s quest with war, her assessment of the danger in which they stood was accurate enough. He would do naught to make it more so. Instead, he said, “Life and the simple need to survive creates conflicts, lass, and survival requires the ability to make good decisions quickly. That need produces men who do not always seek counsel with those they must protect, but I do not agree that that simple fact of life provides you with sufficient cause to avoid all men or the married state. ’Tis possible that you have simply not met the right person yet.”
“I do not intend to marry,” she said flatly.
She had shaken out the blanket folded atop the pallet as they talked, and now spread it wide so that half of it lay on the straw and the other half on the floor. She gestured for him to lie down on the portion that covered the pallet.
“Lie on your stomach,” she said as she reached through the slit in her skirt to take her dirk from its sheath. “I’m going to chop these herbs and mash them with water to make a plaster.”
“You don’t mean to rub that mess into my wounds, I hope,” he said as, with a sigh of relief, he lay facedown on the pallet.
She smiled. “You deserve that I should, mayhap even that I should add salt to the plaster, but I mean only to spread the mixture on the clean piece of cambric I ripped from my shift. With hot water I could make it into a true jelly that would spread more easily, but we don’t want to risk smoke from a fire.”
“No, we do not,” he agreed, turning his head to watch her sleepily, and resting his cheek on his folded forearms.
Isobel expected him to fall asleep
She paused twice to gather herbs on the way but still had not replied to his question when they entered the hut, where the only light came from a narrow golden path of sunlight spilling through the open portion of the doorway.
“Why so quiet, lass?” he asked. “Is Hector Reaganach not tyrannical?”
“He is always kind to me unless I do something to displease him,” she said.
“Ah, but then he becomes tyrannical.”
“Nay. He knows how to make me sorry, to be sure, but he is a fair man. Certainly he has been kinder than my father, but both are exceedingly domineering men, sir, as is every other man I have met. That is simply the nature of men.”
“Is it? I expect you would know more than I about that,” he said.
“Aye, for my sisters’ husbands all expect the sun and moon to rise by their wants and desires, and my sisters to exert themselves at all times to please them, although those same husbands show small consideration for their wives.”
“Most vexatious, I agree.”
“Well, it is,” she said, giving him a look that told him she suspected him of mocking her. Instantly confirming his deduction, she said with a decisive nod, “You are teasing me, but do you not agree that life would be more pleasant and peaceful if men were not continually fighting each other as they do? Women’s lives certainly would be if men were not always making demands upon them, or making war with their neighbors, or dashing off to Spain or other foreign places where they might get themselves killed even more easily than at home.”
“And all the beasts should be at peace?”
Her eyes narrowed. “My aunt often quotes verses from the Bible, too, sir, when she wishes to make a point. ’Tis a most annoying habit.”
“Aye, well, I was more likely misquoting from it,” he said. “Do you compare our plight now to a war?”
“Is it not similar?” she asked, gesturing toward the door. “Those horrid men!”
Michael was adept at recognizing thin ice before he fell through it. If she linked Waldron’s quest with war, her assessment of the danger in which they stood was accurate enough. He would do naught to make it more so. Instead, he said, “Life and the simple need to survive creates conflicts, lass, and survival requires the ability to make good decisions quickly. That need produces men who do not always seek counsel with those they must protect, but I do not agree that that simple fact of life provides you with sufficient cause to avoid all men or the married state. ’Tis possible that you have simply not met the right person yet.”
“I do not intend to marry,” she said flatly.
She had shaken out the blanket folded atop the pallet as they talked, and now spread it wide so that half of it lay on the straw and the other half on the floor. She gestured for him to lie down on the portion that covered the pallet.
“Lie on your stomach,” she said as she reached through the slit in her skirt to take her dirk from its sheath. “I’m going to chop these herbs and mash them with water to make a plaster.”
“You don’t mean to rub that mess into my wounds, I hope,” he said as, with a sigh of relief, he lay facedown on the pallet.
She smiled. “You deserve that I should, mayhap even that I should add salt to the plaster, but I mean only to spread the mixture on the clean piece of cambric I ripped from my shift. With hot water I could make it into a true jelly that would spread more easily, but we don’t want to risk smoke from a fire.”
“No, we do not,” he agreed, turning his head to watch her sleepily, and resting his cheek on his folded forearms.
Isobel expected him to fall asleep
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