Free Here Burns My Candle by Liz Curtis Higgs Page A

“Donald, I wonder if we might discuss something?”
    A sly grin stole across his features. “At this early hour we might do a great many things.”
    “Then let us speak.” She crossed the room and sat beside him on the woolen mattress. Close, but not too close. “Donald…” She swallowed and began again. “Yesterday morning when we stood in Milne Square, a young woman…”
    His smile quickly faded. “You mean Miss Hart.”
    “Aye,” Elisabeth sighed, relieved he’d offered the name first. “She seemed… that is, her comments implied …”
    “Och!” Donald pounded his fist into the mattress. “Anna Hart is a brazen lass who delights in making mischief. Were I her father, I would wrap the girl in a bolt of inferior silk and keep her in the store ’til she acquired some manners.”
    Convincing as his speech was, Elisabeth had to be certain. “But she claimed she…knew you.”
    “Only as a customer of her father’s. I purchased the satin for your lavender gown from Maitland Hart.” Donald clasped her hands, imploring her with his eyes. “Believe me, Bess. We were barely introduced. Miss Hart means nothing to me. Less than nothing.”
    After a long pause Elisabeth said, “I do believe you.” And she did. Anyone would mark the silk merchant’s daughter a coquette.
    But what of the unseemly rumors that swirled round the closes and wynds of Edinburgh from time to time, clinging to her skirts like dust on a warm August day. Could he explain those away so easily?
    Elisabeth gently pulled her hands from his grasp. “Donald, I’ve also heard…” She looked down at the toes of her brocade slippers, searching her heart for the right words. “There have been…reports,” she finally confessed. “Of young widows…” Flushed with embarrassment, she could say no more.
    “My bonny Bess.” He smoothed his hand across her hair, unkempt from a troubled night’s sleep, then lifted her chin until their gazes met. “Why would I seek out another man’s widow when I’m married to the most beautiful woman in Edinburgh? Nae, in all of Scotland.”
    Elisabeth heard the sincerity in his words and saw it shining in his blue eyes. She wanted to believe him. Truly, she did.
    “’Tis idle gossip,” Donald continued, lightly tracing the line of her cheek, then the curve of her neck, then the ruffled edge of her chemise. “Auld women spreading auld news.”
    “But at Assembly Close on Thursday last—”
    He kissed her before she could say more, drawing her into his embrace. “I’ll not lie to you, Bess.” His voice was soft against her ear. “Before we married, I made the acquaintance of many women.” When her breath caught, he pressed his rough cheek against hers. “I am sorry, my love. ’Tis best you know the truth.”
    She closed her eyes but could not stop her ears. Many women . The truth was harder to hear than she’d imagined. Was Jane Montgomerie one of those women? What of the Widow Inglis, who’d smiled coyly at Donald in passing when they visited the Luckenbooths a fortnight ago? Or the Widow Forbes of Trunk Close, who often exchanged glances with him at kirk? Nae! The woman was nigh to his mother’s age.
    “Donald, how could you?” Elisabeth whispered, turning her head away, sickened at the thought of her husband in another woman’s embrace.
    “But don’t you see, my love?” His persuasive words poured over her like honey. “These… ah, events happened long ago. Before we met. Now I have only to stand near a woman, and a new tale is told. Folk who deal in gossip seldom forget. And never forgive.” He kissed her forehead, then her cheek. “My darling wife, I hope you might find it in your heart to both forgive and forget.”
    “Please, Donald.” She pulled away, needing to breathe, needing to think. “This is very…” Unexpected? Nae . On their wedding night Elisabeth had realized she was not the first woman to share her husband’s bed. But had his affairs truly ended? Were the