Ransom My Heart Read Free

fifth daughter, Mellana, considered by many to be the family beauty, but, though approaching her twentieth birthday, who had yet to find a husband.
    In all, the miller’s family was not one against which Rosamund’s father could have had many strong objections. Indeed, the mayor would have had no objections whatsoever, for a more promising young man than Robert Crais could scarce be found in Stephensgate. But there was the small matter of his youngest sister’s oddly independent ways, her flagrant defiance of poaching laws, as well as that unfortunate incident between her and the late earl. How to overlook the fact that Finnula Crais, however wrongly, had been accused of murdering her own husband?
    But Rosamund’s affection for Robert was quite genuine, and, an only child, she eventually brought her doting father round to her way of thinking. If Finnula was his only objection, well, there was nothing to be done about Finnula. The girl was young, and it could be hoped that one day she’d grow out of her love for sport—and the leather chausses she insisted upon wearing. At least she had the sense to stay off the main thoroughfares while wearing them. And in the meantime, perhaps Rosamund’s gentle influence could help her to see the error of her ways.
    What with all the married Crais sisters and their spouses and progeny at the millhouse noisily celebrating Robert and Rosamund’s impending marriage, it was perhaps understandable that no one missed one of the single sisters…at least, not right away. It was Finnula who eventually lowered her cup of ale and wondered aloud what had happened to Mellana.
    No one, however, paid Finnula any mind, which wasn’t unusual, since “Finn” was not only the family embarrassment but also the family storyteller, whose wild exaggerations were now believed only by her youngest nieces and nephews. Putting aside her cup, she went in search of her favorite sister, and found her by the kitchen fire, weeping into her apron.
    â€œMellana!” Finnula cried, genuinely shocked. “What ails you? Is it your stomach again? Do you want me to fetch you a tonic?”
    From the looks of her pink and swollen eyes, Mellana had been crying for some time. Considered by many to be the loveliest of the miller’s daughters, Mellana had had more admirers than anyone could count, but never an actual offer of marriage. Finnula had been unable to decipher why this was so, as she herself had been the recipient of one proposal, albeit ill-fated, and she in no way considered herself the beauty that Mellana obviously was.
    Fair of face and trim of figure, Mellana was the only sister who had escaped the Crais family curse of bright red hair. Instead, she had lovely strawberry-blond curls that framed her heart-shaped face like a veil of reddish gold. Her eyes weren’t the mist gray of her sisters and brother, either, but a deep, sapphire blue that looked almost black in certain lights. And somehow Mellana hadn’t inherited the outspokenness of her sisters, being instead the mildest of creatures, an excellent cook and housekeeper who seemed to feel better suited to the company of the hens she loved than to actual human beings. At one time, there’d been some talk in the village of the next-to-youngest Crais girl being simple in the head. Robert and Finnula had soon put a stop to it, one with his fists and the other her bow, and now it was no longer mentioned by anyone—within hearing of the eldest and youngest Crais, that is.
    â€œMellana, sweetest, what is it?” Finnula bent over her most beloved sibling, trying to sweep some of the lovely girl’s hair from her face, where strands of the blond curls stuck to her damp cheeks. “Why aren’t you celebrating with the rest of us?”
    Mellana hiccupped, barely able to speak through her sobs. “Oh, Finn, if only I could tell you!”
    â€œWhat do you mean, if only you could tell