The Highlander's Bride(34)

While Sara licked her fingers and watched the throes of people passing by, Cullen purchased a few loaves. He took her arm as they maneuvered into the crowd and stopped just as quickly, to hurry her over to a table where he insisted on buying her several brightly colored ribbons for her hair and a beautifully carved ivory comb, much too expensive.

They stepped aside as Cullen planted the comb firmly amidst her curls as she objected. He silenced her lips with a firm finger.

“I’m sorry. Forgive me,” he whispered, moving his finger to kiss her gently. “You truly are a beautiful woman.”

Sara stood speechless, her heart swelling with a flutter. He sounded as if he meant every word. His apology was from his heart, and not just meant to placate her and mend their rift.

“Sometimes men are simply fools, though not an excuse, but the truth, and I realize that you recognize the truth when you see it or hear it. Please, forgive my stupidity.”

She remained speechless, though her hand drifted to the comb tucked snugly in her curls. She touched it, felt the beautiful carvings on the rim, and knew he had offered it as a truce.

Unable to speak, she simply nodded.

He smiled and kissed her cheek. “You do the comb justice.”

How many compliments could the man deliver and continue to sound sincere? Did she question his sincerity, or accept it and savor it?

He took her hand and brushed his lips near her ear. “We only need make a few more purchases and then I think it would be wise to be on our way.”

“Agreed,” she said, though wishing they could linger and enjoy their time together. It had been such a pleasure being at market with him, her husband, instead of alone.

They meandered throughout the stalls, Cullen making certain he refurbished their staples, while a young lad, no more than eight, caught Sara’s interest. She watched wide-eyed as a merchant swung him by the back of his shirt, his ties catching at his throat and choking him.

With Cullen engrossed with the purchase of wine, Sara drifted toward the scene, where she heard the lad being accused of stealing.

“I took nothing,” the lad pleaded.

A frantic woman approached, cutting her way through the crowd, screaming for her son. “Patrick’s a good lad. He would not steal.”

“He stole a fish from me,” the merchant spat at her while shaking her son.

“No. No.” She shook her head. “I tell you he would not steal.”

“Then pay for the fish and be done with it,” the merchant demanded.

The woman’s ragged appearance confirmed her reply. “I have no coin.”

“Then what do you at market?” the merchant accused.

“I came to barter,” she said.

“Then give me what you bartered for and we’ll be done with it,” the merchant sneered.

“No, Ma, no!” the lad cried.

The woman hugged the small bundle she carried to her chest and tears pooled in her tired eyes.

Sara had enough. The bundle probably contained barely enough food to feed the woman’s family. She marched forward and with a sharp tongue said, “Let the lad go, you stupid fool!”

There was a collective gasp that Sara ignored as she walked right up to the brute of a man. She near gagged and took a quick step back. Good lord, didn’t men ever bathe?

“Watch your tongue, woman,” the man snapped, and purposely shook the lad again.

Sara planted fisted hands on her hips. He didn’t intimidate her at all. He barely reached her chin and had more fat than muscle. She was confident he’d pose her no problem.

“I won’t tell you again.” Her menacing warning sent mumbles rushing through the crowd.

“You need to be taught your place, woman,” the man threatened while he held the lad steady.

“It would take a man to do that.”

Her challenge hit its mark. The man grew red in the face and spittle flew from his mouth as he tried to retaliate, but words seemed to fail him.

Sara marched up to him and with a firm yank dislodged the lad from his grip. The lad ran to his mother, who hugged him tightly.

It took a moment for the stunned man to react. “You’ll pay,” he screamed, and raised his meaty hand.

Sara sidestepped him with a laugh. “Your lard-filled ass will never catch me.”

The crowd’s roaring laughter only served to infuriate the man, and he took another swing, which Sara easily avoided.

She knew insulting him any further wouldn’t be wise, but she couldn’t help it. “Told you it would take a man.”

He charged at her, and though she moved swiftly, his fist grazed her chin and she stumbled, though quickly righted herself.

His cheeks puffed red, his eyes bulged, and his feet pawed the ground.