Mine Is the Night_ A Novel - Liz Curtis Higgs [115]
“Nae,” Anne said abruptly, stepping away from Michael’s side. “I would take a turn round the marketplace with you, Bess, if you’ll not mind.” She claimed Elisabeth’s arm, then told Michael, “Kindly meet us at the mercat cross in a quarter hour.”
“Verra weel, Annie.” If his feelings were hurt, Michael didn’t show it as he strolled off with Peter riding high above the crowd.
The women, meanwhile, started toward the souters’ market stalls, filled with rows of shoes in various sizes, left and right shaped just the same. Elisabeth said playfully, “Is it leather or brocade you’re wanting, Cousin?”
“You know very well what I want,” Anne said, drawing closer, lest the two be jostled apart and their conversation interrupted. “A future with the man I love.”
Elisabeth saw at once how serious she was and lost the teasing note in her voice. “Has Michael broached the subject?”
Anne shrugged. “He’s confessed his affection for me. But the word marriage has yet to fall from his lips.”
Elisabeth studied the faint lines along her cousin’s brow, the hint of sadness in her eyes. “Are you afraid it never will?”
Anne looked up. “Aye. He seems content to simply court me, but we’re both too old for that.” As Peter and his father faded from view, Anne scuffed her toe across the cobblestones, her expression troubled. “This I know: Peter needs a mother. And if I hope to bear a child of my own, I cannot wait much longer. Before year’s end I’ll be seven-and-thirty.”
Elisabeth said without hesitation, “Then you must propose to Michael.”
“Bess!” A flush of color filled her cheeks. “I could never do such a thing.”
“Aye, you could.” She stepped closer so no one might overhear them. “He loves you, Annie. A wee nudge and the man will fall like Peter’s tower of wooden blocks.”
Her cousin began to wring her hands. “ ’Tis very bold.”
“Indeed.” Elisabeth tipped her head. “Do you honestly think he’ll refuse you?”
“Nae.” Anne ceased her fidgeting at once. “I think he might be …”
“Relieved,” Elisabeth said for her, and they both laughed. “Michael is waiting for you at the mercat cross. A perfect place to announce your intentions. If not to the whole town, at least to your beloved.”
Her face filled with resolve, Anne pulled her along. “Come with me so I do not lose my nerve.”
Two women on a mission, they ducked round pie sellers, fishwives, street hawkers, and tinkers, their gazes fixed on the upraised pillar at the center of the marketplace, where Michael stood waiting for them, scanning the crowd. As her cousin’s footsteps quickened, so did Elisabeth’s heart. Say yes, Michael. Say yes!
The moment Michael lowered Peter to the ground, the boy ran into Anne’s open arms. “I saw ye from a lang way aff!” he boasted.
“I’ve had my eye on you as well,” Anne murmured, lifting him into her embrace, his little legs wrapped round her waist, his arms circling her neck.
Elisabeth smiled down at them, tears stinging her eyes. Dear, dear Peter.
“So.” Michael folded his arms across his chest. “If ye dinna mind me asking, what have the two o’ ye been about?”
Anne shifted Peter onto her hip, then looked up, her eyes clear, her countenance an open book. “Sir, have you plans for the last day of August?”
“The what?” Michael’s exaggerated frown made them all laugh. “D’ye think I carry a calendar on my person, lass?”
“ ’Tis three weeks hence,” she told him. “Enough time to have the banns read each Sabbath and plan a wee wedding at the kirk.”
His ruddy skin darkened. “And wha micht be getting married?”
She slowly lowered Peter to the ground. “A couple that deserves a bit of happiness.”
His voice was low. “What are ye saying, Annie?”
“I am saying I love you, Michael Dalgliesh.” She lifted her face to his, her hands still resting on Peter’s shoulders. “And I want to be your wife.”
Elisabeth knew she should turn her attention to the mercat cross, the blue summer sky, the bustling crowd—anything to give the couple a moment’s privacy. But she could not tear her gaze away from the tender scene before