Mine Is the Night A Novel - By Liz Curtis Higgs Page 0,103

and asked the same frantic question. “Have you seen little Peter Dalgliesh?”

The answer was always the same: “Nae, Mrs. Kerr.”

Distraught, she stood near a display of fleeces and skins and bowed her head, pleading for divine intervention. Help me, Lord. Please. No wonder the Almighty had never entrusted her with a child of her own. How could she have been so careless? How could she have let him slip away?

Then from high above her, a small, excited voice crowed, “I found her!”

Elisabeth’s head lifted as quickly as her spirits. “Peter?”

Here he came, riding on his father’s shoulders, his legs draped round the tailor’s neck, his wee hands clutching Michael’s larger ones.

She hurried up to them, awash with relief. “Wherever have you been, lad?”

“Whaur have ye been is mair like it,” Michael admonished her, giving his son a playful bounce. “Peter spied Annie and me in the crowd, ran o’er to see us, then turned back and couldna find ye. Och, he felt terrible. Made me carry him about ’til we spotted ye. And so we have.”

“Oh, so I was the one who was lost.” Elisabeth reached up and patted the lad’s chubby leg. “I’m sorry I gave you a scare, Peter.”

“Next time I’ll not let ye go,” the boy promised.

Anne tapped the brim of Elisabeth’s straw bonnet. “Tall as you are, Bess, we could add a peacock feather to your hat and never lose sight of you.”

“A fine idea,” she agreed, though the way Anne and Michael had locked gazes, keeping an eye on her was clearly the last thing on their minds. “Suppose Peter and I resume our walk,” Elisabeth offered, “and let the two of you enjoy the fair.”

“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