Free Call Home the Heart by Shannon Farrell Page B

when he was
    finally able to speak. "Your lovely hair!"
     
     
Muireann waved aside his objection with a flourish of her delicate
    white hand. "It will grow back in time. Besides, it will be easier
    to keep clean, and it's still long enough to wear up, so no one will
    know, now will they? I can even sell it to a wig maker." She smiled
    up at him, and enjoyed the shocked look on Lochlainn's face.
     
     
He scowled. "Really, Muireann, this isn't some sort of game!"
     
     
Her eyes flashed. "I know it isn't! I'm doing the best I can to
    maintain my optimism in the face of such terrible circumstances,
    Lochlainn, that's all. I'm sorry you don't approve. But frankly, I
    don't need your approval, just your loyalty to me as your employer!"
     
     
Muireann marched across the room stiffly with the long plait, which
    she hung on the arm of one chair, and then sat down by the fire to
    dry what he considered to be the pitiful remnants of her once
    glorious ebony hair.
     
     
Lochlainn had been stung by her words, and stood uncertainly in the
    center of the room, staring at her as she deliberately ignored him.
     
     
At last he approached her chair, and knelt down next to it. He
    raised one hand tentatively and stroked her hair down to her
    shoulder. "I'm sorry. I had no right to criticize or complain. But
    your hair was so lovely."
     
     
"It still will be. It gets very curly when it's this short. Mother
    and Alice used to complain about it being like a bird's nest all the
    time. They have completely straight hair, you see. And don't worry
    about the criticism. I'm accustomed to never doing anything right,"
    she said quietly.
     
     
"That's a sad thing to say," Lochlainn remarked, as he stroked her
    tresses again and sat down in front of her, curious to learn as much
    about Muireann as possible. "Why would that be?"
     
     
"Because my mother and sister are incredibly beautiful. I'm the
    ugly, unfeminine one in the family. I have dark curly hair, dark
    heavy brows, my skin is too pale. I'm too tall for a woman, not
    shapely enough where it matters, and I have large hands and feet.
    Even my eyes are a funny color," Muireann recited by heart the
    litany of criticisms she had been subjected to.
     
     
Lochlainn laughed long and loud, until he saw Muireann's eyes fill
    with hurt tears.
     
     
"Is THAT what they told you?" he guffawed, unable to help himself.
     
     
"Well, it's true. They have blond hair and blue eyes, and are small
    and dainty. Why, their rings couldn't even fit on my little finger."
     
     
"My dear girl, not every man admires blonde hair and blues eyes, you
    know," Lochlainn found himself saying, making an unconscious
    comparison between Muireann and his former fiancée Tara, and
    discovering that he was suddenly unable to recall what Tara looked
    like all that clearly.
     
     
"As for being too large, well, you're certainly quite small compared
    to me, " he said, pulling her out of the chair so that he towered
    over her by at least a foot.
     
     
Then he took Muireann's hands and placed both of them in his own. He
    had a signet ring old Douglas Caldwell had given him as a young man.
    Tugging it off his own little finger, he placed it on her thumb,
    where it hung off and nearly rolled onto the floor.
     
     
"Now, no more nonsense about there being anything wrong with you, do
    you hear?" Lochlainn scolded, playfully chucking her under the chin.
     
     
Then he sighed as he looked at the ring. "I suppose I should have
    sold it," he said, squeezing her hands tightly before putting it
    back on his own finger, then moving to get his things ready for the
    bath, which was rapidly growing cold.
     
     
"Not if it had sentimental value. It looks very old."
     
     
"How can you say that to me when you sold your wedding band?"
     
     
She shook her head, and sat back down by the fire to dry her hair.
    "I don't need any reminders of Augustine. Now go on, get in that tub
    before it all goes cold."
     
     
"Will you read to