“These men, Lindsey and McNab, were elders of the town. There was no one willing to take up our cause. And they were seen as selfless because they didn’t add the proceeds of the sale to their personal fortunes. They donated everything to the church.” She clutched his arm. “It was never about the money. It was about getting rid of the witches. These men had been among the first to denounce my grandmother Helen when news of Moira’s death reached us. Many others followed suit, but it began with them.”
The cold was gone. Blood rushed hot in her veins as her anger flared. At their feet the grass swayed and danced counter to the direction of the wind chilling them. But Matteo didn’t seem to notice.
Her new husband leaned over her, a dark light in his eyes. “Isabella, I don’t pretend to have any influence here, but my fortune is extensive. If you want to investigate these men’s dealings, I can hire someone. We could turn their lives over with a fine-tooth comb and expose them. Any of their sins would come back to haunt them ten-fold. I can make sure of it.”
Inexplicably some of her own anger lost its heat in the face of his indignation. Isobel had never had a defender or a champion, not since her parents died.
Matteo fit the mental image of avenging knight all to well. But he had arrived on his white steed too late. The time for vengeance had passed.
“Unfortunately, there is no one to focus your scheme on. Both men were old when all this occurred. They’ve gone on to their great reward,” she said sarcastically. “If you want to punish their co-conspirators, you’d have to target half the town.”
His gaze caught hers, his eyes soft on her face. “I understand. But I’m still sorry.”
What was left of her fury drained out of her, leaving her empty. “Me too.”
He put a hand on the small of her back and they continued on their way.
Chapter 18
Isobel and her new husband arrived at their destination shortly afterward.
She had been apprehensive at the mention of another cottage. But this recently built two-story structure in no way resembled the tenant cottage on the Montgomery estate. It had four spacious rooms in addition to the kitchens and scullery. The house sat at the far end of the Donnelley farm, one presumably used by their visitors or estate manager during the growing season.
A few maids from the inn were bustling around the ground floor when they entered, finishing preparations Matteo had ordered earlier that day. They had left food in the kitchen, cleaned the house from top to bottom, and placed fresh linens on the bed.
The girls left almost as soon as Matteo and Isobel arrived, promising to deliver a message from Isobel to the Old Meg, the local midwife. There was a lot of winking over that, and she knew they assumed she was already with child. It certainly explained the hasty marriage.
“Why do you want to see the midwife?” Matteo asked once they had left.
She couldn’t suppress a small smile at the confusion in his voice.
“Do you need someone to speak to before...”
Isobel flushed. “No, although I probably should ask her some things, now that you mention it. But Meg is one of the people who gathers and keeps local herbs in these parts. And she was friendly with my grandmother after the scandal, although not openly.”
“Oh, I see.” He nodded. “I should get back to the ruins, but before I do—about tonight. I’m...I already knew you were innocent in every way that counts...”
She raised a brow, “Yes, and...?”
Ahead of her, her large and muscular husband shuffled his feet like a youth.
“I had assumed, you see—a governess is very vulnerable. But it’s obvious now that you can take care of yourself. However, you might have succumbed to loneliness. I wouldn’t blame you if…”
Embarrassed, Isobel looked away. “I did not become lonely.”
A touch on her cheek surprised her. He had kneeled in front of her, the blackness in his aura nowhere in sight.
“Everything will be well tonight,” he said, unable to hide how pleased her admission had made him.
His hand was warm on her skin, and she in turn felt that warmth spread over her body. Blushing, she looked down as he pressed a quick and hard kiss to her lips before departing.
***
Isobel was pacing up and down the length of the cottage’s small bedroom. It was five paces from end to end, which she traversed over and over as she waited.
She’d been able to bathe and brush out her hair before her husband joined her, sweaty and dirty from securing the library. He was washing in the kitchen, about to join her momentarily. After lighting a candle, she forced herself to stop her vigil and climb into the bed, pulling the bedclothes up to her waist.
There is nothing to fear, she told herself. Isobel had spent many nights on the road with Matteo and had been perfectly safe. There were no signs of him succumbing to the curse as before. He hadn’t fallen ill and his body had kept its natural warmth, or at least it had on the few occasions she’d touched him in the last few days. For tonight, she would think of the man as her husband—nothing more.
And really, isn’t that more than enough?