Page 98 of The Lover's Eye
“I’ve already got my shallots an’ onions in the ground.See there?”
“Yes,” Isobel said, stung by rising embarassment.“I see.”
What had she been thinking?This was the most benign interaction possible.The woman was no witch or oracle, but a common hermit.When Isobel reached to place the sprout in the dirt, her hand was snatched up in a firm, calloused grasp.She shrieked.
The woman looked up, revealing her face.A map-like network of creases lined her skin, culminating in a soft sag of flesh beneath her jutting chin.Her nose seemed to droop like a bit of half-melted candlewax, but her eyes—
Isobel could not look beyond them once she met them.They were an arresting shade of green, like the skin of limes.They were fixed on her, the thoughts behind them unreadable.Isobel was almost grateful when they turned their focus to her hand, flitting over her palm with hungry interest.
“Have you come ’bout a love matter?”
“No.I’ve come to inquire after a young woman, who I suspect came to see you.”
The woman looked at her again.“All of ye come ’bout yourselves.Every last one of ye.”
“What made you assume it was a love matter?”Isobel asked, unable to help herself.The woman was studying her palm again, a long, dirt-stained fingernail tracing the lines.
“Ye feel more than most people.It can be a blessin’,” the old woman said, her voice rising to a soprano and a smile spreading across her mouth.“Or it can be a veritable curse.I believe at present, it must be a curse.”
Isobel swallowed, and when she pulled her hand back, the elderly woman allowed it.She massaged her palm, hoping to cleanse the memory of her nerves, which still tingled from the strange woman’s touch.
“That is, in essence, why I have come,” Isobel said.“But all that can help me is knowing if Aurelia Gouldsmith came to you.”
The finishing traces of the woman’s smile bowed into a scowl, her wild and wiry brows lowering over her eyes.“No.”
“No, she did not, or no you do not wish to say?”
The woman stood then, her joints moving with surprising ease, and stalked off toward the shack.Isobel saw then that she was wearing a fine pair of gentlemen’s trousers.She almost laughed, wishing she could know the details ofthatexchange, but quickly rose to pursue the woman’s receding figure.
“Wait!”Isobel called, stumbling over the rough ground.“I will pay you handsomely.”
“I’ve no want of your sovereigns,” barked the old woman.
“Well, good.For I’ve brought you better than that.”
The woman froze on the shack’s threshold, wheeling around on her heels.Isobel was breathless, feeling the all-importance of this moment.She had come all this way, and she’d be damned if she left with nothing.
She made slow, delicate work of removing the old reticule from her wrist, opening the bag with little tugs.She had managed to fit a sampling of delicacies from the kitchens.“Let’s see here,” Isobel said, sighing.“I’ve got a nip of sugar …”
In the periphery of her vision, she watched the woman salivate on command, her tongue peeking out to wet her bottom lip.
“Oh, and some tea leaves—these are very fine, I assure you.And …” Isobel pretended to scrounge around in her reticule for another moment.“Ah, yes.I’ve also brought nutmeg for your consideration.”
The old woman’s hands leapt out at Isobel, but she skipped out of reach.“Afteryou tell me all you know of Aurelia Gouldsmith and Giles Trevelyan.”
33
Giles felt something cool and damp on his forehead, his cheek, his nose.He grumbled wordlessly, flipping over to lie on his stomach.The distinctive imprint of spaniel paws landed on his back then, claws scratching his shoulder blades.
“What the devil is it, Smooch?”he mumbled, bending his arm at an awkward angle to rub her.The touch did not quiet her, though, and she continued prancing over him and panting in his ear.Just enough reality sieved into Giles’s consciousness for him to realize Isobel was no longer in bed.He sat up.
Good God.Could that clock conceivably be right?
He jumped out of bed, tugging back a curtain.Sunlight blinded him.Worse than that—afternoonsunlight, hot gold tempered by a heavy bed of clouds.He couldn’t remember ever sleeping so long in his life.His limbs were stiff, his neck achy, but he did feel surprisingly rejuvenated.Though no doubt that had more to do with making amends with his wife than his slumber.
Giles stretched as he walked through to Isobel’s chamber.He smiled at the sight of her bed, unslept in, before noticing a small note on her pillow.He snatched it up, reading and rereading.He blinked at the closing line.
I love you.
