for another day that her secret had not been revealed.
And while Una's attitude had markedly improved, Osgard's had not. Oh, he was
careful enough in her husband's presence, but when they were alone, he often made
hurtful comments to Abigail. Una told her to ignore the old man's words as he wasn't really
pleasant to anyone.
Sometimes that was a harder task to undertake than others. Like one morning
when he "kept her company" while she mended one of Talorc's shirts in the great hall.
"I suppose you've noticed you're never left alone."
It was difficult to sew and watch the older man's lips, but Abigail had spent years
learning to do this sort of thing. Thank goodness. The last person she wanted learning of
her deafness was the crotchety old man.
"Yes, I had noted it." How could she not? She'd assumed her husband was
watching out for her safety and felt good because of it.
"Ye know 'tis because your laird and your clan dinna trust you."
She stared at him, at a loss how to respond. She could not be sure he was lying,
but she hated to think his words could be true.
He nodded, warming to his theme. "Ye cannot be left without supervision lest ye
betray us in some fashion."
Tears burned the back of her eyes, but she absolutely refused to show weakness
in front of the cranky old man. She focused her attention completely on the small stitches
she made with her needle, unwilling to dignify the barb with an answer.
It was easy to ignore him since she didn't even know if he was speaking unless she
looked at him, and that she refused to do. He'd pricked her with enough poison for one
day.
Over the next few days, she wondered which was the truth: that her constant
escort was the result of her husband's concern for her safety or her trustworthiness? She
was too disheartened by the prospect of the latter to ask one of her new friends for their
opinion.
Even with Osgard's animosity and the stress of hiding her inability to hear, Abigail
found her life among the Sinclairs the happiest it had been since her sister Emily had