A Promise of Love Read Online Free Page A

promise of marriage followed by coupling, by living together as man and wife.” Sophie looked over at the young girl made luminous by candlelight. Her midnight blue eyes betrayed no emotion, yet she trembled like a foal new born. In that instant, Sophie made her decision. “And by announcing legal ties in front of two witnesses.”
    A pale face gave way to one suffused by red.
    Surely the Scots were not so barbaric as to indulge in this heathen custom. Her wedding to Peter had been held in the small village church; her vows to Anthony had been spoken in her family home. Both ceremonies had been presided over by clergy, duly sanctified unions, blessed by man and supposedly by God.
    It was a nightmare, wasn’t it?
    Judith looked down at her hands. There were scratches on the backs of them and dirt beneath her nails. She was aware of her unkempt appearance, the fact that she'd not bathed in so long she smelled like sheep. Hardly a bride. And yet, if she believed this sweet looking woman, that’s exactly what she was.
    “I’ve been here a scant two minutes and in that time, I’ve acquired a husband?” Surely, this was one of her nightmares. Except, of course, that Judith could feel the chill air upon her skin. Her lashed lids were too heavy, her eyes felt filled with sand, her fingers trembled even as she clutched them tightly together. And the incongruous smell of turnips. You didn’t smell turnips in your dreams, did you?
    “I must admit,” Sophie said kindly,” it’s a strange welcome we give you. Perhaps as odd as your presence here.” It was a softly coaxed invitation, one subtly offered. Later, Judith wondered why she said anything, let alone spoke the truth. Perhaps it was due to the fatigue of her journey, or the feeling of being abandoned in a strange country, subjected to odd customs. Or perhaps it was even the sudden wish to cry. This woman with her strange, lyrical accent, her face lined with a hundred small wrinkles despite her face being heavily rouged and powdered, and her lively, sparkling blue eyes seemed only kind, not censorious. The story of her father’s barter poured from Judith like water from a pitcher.
    “Yet, what did you think would happen to you here?" Sophie asked Judith when she’d finished her tale.
    It was not something she’d allowed herself to contemplate. Each day, she’d occupied herself with what needed to the done, focusing on ignoring the discomforts, enduring the endless rain, living each day as something whole and complete, as if the journey itself were more important than the destination. She’d not allowed herself to think of the future; it was an interminable pit of blackness into which she could not inject one small spark of hope.
    "I had thought to be employed, if nothing else,” Judith said finally. “As it is," she said, looking at the pots piled high in the corner, at the crumbs of food scattered over the kitchen table, adorning the floor and every other available surface, "it seems as though I have found work aplenty. I do not have to be married to accomplish it.
    “Is there no way to undo this?”
    Her eyes appeared like deep pools, Sophie thought, through which one might glimpse the soul. Again, she listened to the voice of her heart before she spoke.
    “I’m afraid my dear, that the only way to rid yourself of a healthy spouse is to either be an adulterer, or dessert your husband for four years.”
    Sophie extended her hand, with its wriggling blue veins and horrid brown spots and placed it on the Judith’s young, unlined hand. She looked down at the contrast in their skin, the differences fifty years can make. She was ancient, Judith was only at the beginning of her life. Yet, how like this young girl she had once been, so sure of what she wanted that she did not allow room for fate.
    Fate had a way of making things happen.
    Especially if it was prodded a bit.
     
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    "You old fool, how dare you meddle in my life!"
    Alisdair MacLeod wanted