Ransom My Heart Read Free Page B

to Camilla’s, the rose-colored linen to Christina’s, and the gold samite to yours—” Mellana looked up apologetically, remembering, even while consumed by her own grief, how intensely Finnula disliked mention of her own wedding. “I—I’m sorry, Finn. I’m certain it must seem petty to you. After all, you care only for bows and arrows, not ribbons and gewgaws. But I would have been the laughingstock of the village if I’d appeared at my sisters’ weddings in gowns worn previously—”
    Finnula thought it entirely unlikely that anyone in Stephensgate would remember what Mellana had worn to any of her sister’s weddings, Stephensgate hardly being the fashion capital of the world. She refrained from saying so out loud, however.
    â€œAre you telling me,” Finnula said instead, her head still in her hands, “that you spent your entire dowry on bliauts, Mellana?”
    â€œNot just bliauts,” Mellana assured her. “Kirtles, too.”
    Had Mellana been speaking to any one of her other sisters, she might have received a remonstration for behaving in such a selfish and stupid manner. And though Finnula did indeed thinkthat Mellana had behaved stupidly—no better, for instance, than her silly friend Isabella Laroche, that ridiculous creature whose father was so poorly managing Lord Hugo’s manor house in his absence—she could not help feeling sorry for her. After all, it was rather a terrible thing to be pregnant and unwed.
    When Finnula finally looked up, her face was expressionless. “Do you have any idea,” she asked, “what Robert will do when he discovers what you’ve done?”
    â€œI know, Finn! I know! Why do you think I’m crying? And Jack hasn’t a gold piece of his own—”
    â€œJack?”
    â€œJack Mallory.” Mellana blushed, lowering her eyes. “He’s a troubadour. You remember, he played the lute so divinely at Christina’s wedding—”
    â€œGod’s teeth,” Finnula murmured, closing her eyes in horror. “A troubadour ? You’ve got yourself pregnant by a troubadour ?”
    â€œYes, and you see, that’s why we can’t be married, not without my dowry, because all Jack owns is his rebec and some juggling balls. Oh, and his donkey, Kate. You know Robert will never allow me to marry a man who doesn’t even own a change of clothing, let alone a home for us to live in—”
    Finnula sighed, wishing heartily it had been one of her other sisters who’d found Mellana weeping by the hearth. Brynn would have sympathized, Patricia scolded, Camilla laughed, and Christina gasped, but any one of them would have been better able to handle the situation than Finnula. Finnula, never having experienced the emotion herself, hadn’t the vaguest notion what it meant to love a man to distraction, the way Mellana apparently loved Jack Mallory. On the whole, Finnula felt she had the advantage. Being in love looked rather painful, from what she’d observed.
    She said, “Well, instead of crying about something’s that over and done with, why don’t you scrape together what you’ve earnedbrewing ale—” She paused, noting that Mellana was energetically shaking her head. “What’s the matter?”
    Mellana’s long eyelashes fluttered damply. “D-don’t you see? I spent it.”
    â€œYou spent it all ?” Finnula’s voice cracked. “But there were over fifty—”
    â€œI needed new combs,” Mellana whispered tearfully. “And ribbons for my hair. And that tinker came by the other day, and he was selling the loveliest girdles, of real gold they were—”
    Finnula could hardly keep from cursing, and so she did so, roundly, despite the reproachful look it earned her from her sister. “You spent all of the money you earned brewing this winter on trinkets? Oh, Mellana, how could