The Highlander's Sin (25 page)

“Precisely why I need ye by my side always.”

“I’ll never leave your side.” She glanced out over the ridge toward the ruins. “Never. Even if a demon rat chases us.”

“Of that, there may be many.”

“And already we’ve fought several.”

Emotion tightened his chest
, and he pressed his lips to her temple, breathing in her scent, finding comfort in something so small as the tickle of her hair on his nose. “I love ye.”

“I love ye, too.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

A
gentle breeze blew across Kail Glen, and as Duncan and Heather approached the abbey doors, grasses and flowers lapped at the stone walls of the abbey’s sacred buildings. Stained glass depicting scenes from psalms filled the windows. There was a calming air about the place, as though once a person entered there, all would be well. No portcullis blocked its open doors. No guards stood watch upon tower walls. The abbey was so very different than a castle. It wasn’t built to withstand an enemy, probably because no one dared breach its walls for fear of being struck down by God himself. Nay, the abbey was built to welcome strangers.

A few dozen sheep and a couple of goats and cows milled in the fields besi
de the abbey, and several brown-cloaked figures bent stooped in rows, tending crops.

Sounding on the clouds was
the chiming of the chapel bell.

“Vespers,” Duncan said. “There will be no one to greet us.” As he said the words
, the monks in the fields followed each other in a line toward the open gate.

“Maybe ye should just climb over
one of the transept walls as ye did at Dunrobin.”

Duncan chuckled. “Nay, lass. They will leave the gate open as they always do. Monks are a peaceful people
, and the house of God is always open to His shepherds.”

Heather shivered. “Then we’d best get inside and close them before our enemies arrive uninvited.”

“Aye.” Duncan spurred his horse down the hill, catching the attention of a few of the monks.

Several of them glanced up and nodded their heads, while the rest kept their gazes toward the rosary beads they counted with their fingertips.

“We’ll be welcomed by some, and others will vent at your presence. Not all people are the children of God in some stoic monks’ eyes,” Duncan said.

She was taken back to the inn when the woman had made her feel lower than dirt. “Then let us pray that those who are accepting are not cowed by those who lament.”

Duncan chuckled. “A feat that is easier said than done.” He nodded over at her. “Come on, let’s go.”

Heather nudged the lazy nag forward after Duncan’s horse. The mount
gave a slow lurch in Blade’s direction, compelled each time she pushed it to catch up, though she tired easily.

They rode up the line of walking monks, dismounting from their horses and waiting patiently outside the doors until the last of them had entered. Duncan nodded his head for her to follow behind him under the main doors. He closed the doors tight behind them, lifting a thick block of wood and settling it in its brackets to bar the door. No one seemed to question his movements, as though he often barred their door and they accepted it.

Duncan led the way through a stoned archway until they entered the cloister.

“Wait here,” Duncan said. He took the reins of her nag and led the mare alongside Blade to a small stables, disappearing inside.

Heather bowed her head, looking toward the ground, feeling extremely self-conscious of a sudden. If the innkeepers had taken her as a whore, would not the religious and pious men do the same? Duncan had mentioned that several of them, perhaps even more than that, were not of an accepting nature.

Her gown was even dirtier than it had been when they’d arrived at the inn earlier that day, and she was sure her face was covered in grime from their ride. She studied her hands and nails, wishing for a place to wash them, but the only thing
readily available with water was the well, and she’d not tarnish these men of faith’s drinking water by washing the filth from her face in it.

Duncan came out of the stable
s and walked over to the well in the center of the cloister, pulling up the bucket. Water sloshed over the side and with it a tin cup. He filled the cup and offered her a drink.

She took it eagerly, glad it was not the slimy mixture he’d served her before. He then poured water over her hands and his so they could wash away the dirt, letting the remnants drain on to the ground.

“I’m going to go into Vespers. When it concludes, I will speak with the prior about the impending danger and the change in my situation. He’ll marry us right away.”

“But what if the Ross clan arrives before Vespers ends?”

Duncan pointed above her head. She turned to see what he was showing her.

“See that bell? Ring it loud if they arrive.”

Heather swallowed down her fear, recalling how he’d said he’d never leave her side again. “I will.”

“I’ll be at the rear of the church standing by the north transept. First ding of the bell and I’ll be by your side.” He removed his claymore and handed it to her.

The metal was heavy, pulling her arms down with its weight.

“Ye once asked for my sword to help protect yourself. I give it to ye
now.”

“But—”

He cupped her cheek. “Dinna worry. Ye will not need it.”

Heather nodded, praying he was right.

“I’ll be just inside.”

She wanted to kiss him, to grab on to him tightly, to somehow find a way to use magic to keep the Ross clan at bay. They would be here today. Tonight. Her brothers
wouldn’t arrive until noon the following day. If they arrived at all.

Duncan entered the church through the north transept and stood by the door, hands pressed together in prayer, head bowed.

Prior Samuel began the service by making a sign of the cross. It felt like hours before he ended with the Paternoster, but while he recited the Lord’s Prayer, his eyes locked on Duncan’s, and he gave a slight nod of his head. The prior had been at Pluscarden since before Duncan had arrived. He’d been one of the only men of the abbey to welcome him, and it remained so to this day.

Duncan was well past the time he should have taken solemn vows, becoming a monk in truth, and many of the men had taken issue with that, lamenting often that Duncan should have just parted ways with the abbey altogether. He had never understood why the prior had seen fit to keep him there, always offering words of advice and a bed—not always warm, but at least he’d had one.

The men filed out, but Duncan remained behind, waiting until they’d all left. Prior Samuel motioned him to the front of the church.

“I’m afraid I would like to speak with ye in the cloister,” Duncan said.

The prior frowned, and Duncan hurried to apologize with a bow of his head. “I would not ask it if it were not important.”

“Verra well.” Prior Samuel walked slowly down the aisle toward Duncan. His gait looked more shaky than before. He was nearly twice Duncan’s age, and though his face was not lined with wrinkles, his stiffness showed he was getting up there in years.

“My thanks, Prior.”

Prior Samuel nodded and led the way out into the cloister, finding a private spot where they could stand. Heather stood beneath the bell, looking as though she’d been put in a corner like a berated child.

“I’ve come for two reasons,” Duncan started.

“Is she one of them?” The prior nodded toward Heather.

“Aye, Prior. She is.”

“Who is she?”

“Lady Heather. Youngest sister to the Earl of Sutherland.”

Prior Samuel nodded. “A woman worthy of ye, though she looks a bit worse for wear.”

“We’ve had a bit of trouble on the road.”

“The other reason why ye’re here?”

“Aye. The Ross clan is headed this way, and I’ve reason to believe they will attempt to take the abbey.”

“We must pray for safety.” The prior looked solemn.

Duncan forged on. “The Sutherlands have been summoned to protect ye, but I’m not certain they will arrive in time.”

“I remember when ye first arrived here, lad. Tired, dirt streaking your face and an anger so deep I thought ye’d join the Father in heaven afore your twelfth year. Ye grew up just as angry but have somehow managed to control it. All of us here, even those loath to admit it, owe our lives to ye. Without ye, we’d have suffered more at the hands of foul men than with ye.”

Duncan bowed his head. “I owe ye my life.”

“Ye owe me nothing,” Prior Samuel responded.

“I will do whatever it takes to protect ye and the abbey.” Duncan knelt before the prior.

“I know ye will.” He pressed his hand on top of Duncan’s head. “I bless ye my son.”

“I wish to marry.”

“As a
novitiate, ye can renounce your vows, my lad.” The prior did not seem at all surprised. In fact, he sounded quite the opposite, as if he’d only just been waiting for this day. “If that is what ye wish, then I shall marry the two of ye now, afore we are interrupted by any guests. We’ve plenty of witnesses.”

“Thank ye.”
Relief flooded him. He’d not been aware before how much he’d feared the prior’s response.

“Rise, Duncan. Dinna thank me. I’ve waited twenty years to hear ye say it. Ye’re not a monk. ’Tis not in your blood. Ye’re a laird. I tried hard to get ye to return to your clan. Gave ye extra work, took the wood out of your hearth. Hoped to make ye miserable so ye’d leave this place and return to where ye belonged. To your people, who need y
e verra much, but ye just would not go.”

Duncan laughed and stood. “Took a woman to tell me.”

The prior smiled. “As I said, ye’re no monk.”

“Nay, canna say I ever was.”

Prior Samuel nodded. “Bring the lass inside. Let me bind ye within the eyes of God and bless your union.”

Duncan couldn’t help the beaming smile that creased his lips. He ran across the cloister toward Heather
, gathering the eyes of over a dozen monks.

“He will marry us now,” he whispered with excitement.

“Now?” Heather paled, looking down at the sword in her hands.

“Aye, lass. Now.”
Duncan took his sword back.

“But I’ve not washed my face. I canna marry ye with a dirty face.”

“I dinna care if your face is dirty. I’d marry ye even if ye were submerged in muck.”

Heather laughed and ducked her
head, but Duncan pressed two fingers beneath her chin, lifting her up to look at him.

“Would ye do me the honor of becoming my wife in truth?”

“Aye. A thousand times, aye.” She beamed up at him.

Duncan offered his arm and led her toward Prior Samuel.
“Wait,” he said, stopping. He undid the pin at his throat, unraveling his robes from his shoulders and revealing his true self beneath—a Highland warrior. A chief.

“Immeasurably improved,” Heather said. “I was beginning to feel like quite the sinner when I kept kissing a robed man.”

“There can be no sin in kissing each other,” Duncan whispered. “Let us say our vows so we can do more than kiss.”

Heather blushed and glanced toward the ground, biting her lip. Duncan chuckled and led her toward the man who’d mentored him over the years.

“Prior, this is my betrothed, Heather Sutherland.”

“Prior.” Heather bowed her head and curtsied, not rising until he’d pressed his hand to her head and whispered a blessing.

“Would either of ye like a confession before we begin?”