April Holthaus - The MacKinnon Clan 02 (11 page)

“Will I ever see you again?” she asked.

“Perhaps one day, my lady.”

The tension between them was almost unbearable. Ewan wanted nothing more but to scoop her up into his arms and press his lips on hers. As he began to lower himself towards her, Jacqueline stepped up onto the tips of her toes and gave him a soft kiss onto his cheek and then looked deep into his eyes.

“MacKinnon,” Oliver called out walking towards them, breaking their intense tension.

Ewan broke eye contact with Jacqueline and answered Oliver, “MacBain, it is good to see ye, my friend.”

Oliver came up in between them and shook Ewan’s hand. “I heard what had happened in Galston. I thought ye dead.”

“Nay, I got there too late,” Ewan regrettably said.

“Will ye be joining us tonight? A few of us are heading to the pub before we leave for camp.”

“Aye. I will be leaving shortly. I have a matter to attend to first. Save me a pint, aye?”

“Aye,” Oliver said and walked away.

Jacqueline looked at Ewan with much distress and asked, “Why did that man call you MacKinnon?”

“Because I am a MacKinnon,” Ewan answered looking puzzled why she had asked.

“You are part of the MacKinnon clan? As in Douglas MacKinnon?” Jacqueline furiously asked.

Ewan looked at the lass with a strange disposition, not sure why she was becoming so flustered.

“Aye. Douglas MacKinnon was my father. He passed away many years ago. How do you know of my father?” he asked.

Jacqueline took a step back away from him. Wanting to cry, she felt like Ewan had betrayed her and that she had betrayed her own parents. She refused to believe that the man she had befriended was the son of her enemy. She felt the rage inside of her beginning to build. All of the memories she had and emotions she felt exploded inside of her.

With tears in her eyes, she sternly replied, “That blackguard was the Highlander who killed my parents. I can only hope that his death was slow and painful as he showed them the same regard.”

Ewan brows furrowed as she insulted his father. “My father may have been many things, my lady, but he was no’ a killer of innocent.”

“You dare call me a liar? I have a piece of his tartan to prove it; hidden away. It was found underneath their dead bodies. When they were found, my uncle went after Douglas MacKinnon. He only stopped when his wife became sick. He refused to leave her bedside. After she died, he stopped caring about revenge, but I haven’t,” Jacqueline yelled out.

“My lady, my father may have been a brute of a mon, but he was nay a murderer. How do ye ken what yer uncle said was the truth? He is an Englishman,” Ewan roared regarding the accusations.

“Not a murderer? Is that why he is known as the dark ghost of Scotland? Because he is merciful?”

“Listen to me. My father inherited that name through battle. He was a warrior and a good mon. I dinna believe he would just go around killin’ fer no’ reason.”

“Well he did and you are wrong about your father,” Jacqueline tearfully said and turned her face away from him. “Why did you not tell me before about what clan you were from? I would have not associated myself with you had I known you were a blood-thirsty MacKinnon.”

“I dinna tell ye my clan, my lady as I had wee time, trying to protect ye from the English, if ye remember.”

“Well, you now no longer have to concern yourself about me. Go, off to go fight your senseless battle.”

Ewan stormed off; mad at how the stubborn lass so easily accused his family. Ewan did not believe that his father would do such a thing for no reason. As Ewan thought about it, he tried to recall all she had said about her parents’ death. Earlier she had mentioned that they were killed at sea, returning from Ireland. But what would his father have been doing in Ireland? He was no pirate, as Jacqueline claimed their murderer to be and from what Ewan knew that Douglas did not travel much beyond the borders of the Highlands.
Let her believe what she will. I will no’ stand by while she disgraces my family
, he said out loud to himself.

Jacqueline ran away from Ewan crying. She was so angry at herself for becoming involved with the son of her family’s greatest adversary. She had wished that she could send her brother and uncle a missive about Douglas’ death. She knew that with his passing, her family could now live at peace.

Her only hope now was to join the abbey where she would be safe and send a tracker to find James. He would know what to do and could get a message to her brother.

Chapter 10

Ryelle Abbey was just as large as Carlisle in proportion. With its high walls and towers, it would offer the protection Jacqueline needed. Still under Scottish rule, Jacqueline felt safe within these walls. The quiet yet busy monastery was much like the church back at Carlisle, with the sounds of praise and readings that could be heard echoing through the chapel walls.

The monk that had accompanied Jacqueline had barely spoken a word to her. She believed that he must have taken an oath of silence. As they reached the chapel, the priest came to them as they walked through the arch leading into the gathering room.

“Ye must be the lass Robert has sent here seeking an asylum,” he stated.

“Yes, I am. My name is Jacqueline Renold, Father. I thank you for your kindness in offering me sanctuary,” she said as she bowed her head to him.

“Ye are English. That I was no’ told,” the priest stated.

Jacqueline looked at him almost shameful for her heritage.

“English or no’, that is just fine, lass. God opens his doors and hearts to all of His children who seek it. All are welcome and will no’ be turned away from the house of God,” he continued and held out his hand to greet her.

Unfamiliar with Scottish customs, Jacqueline bent down and kissed the ring upon his finger. The priest looked at her and smiled.

“Yer chamber will be down the corridor with the other lasses staying wit us. We have strict rules here and expect them to be followed accordingly. I will send someone to assist ye.”

“I understand, Father. Thank you.”

Jacqueline walked down the narrow corridor and found the room at the end of the hall. Sitting down onto the straw filled bed, she laid back and sank into its softness. Jacqueline’s muscles ached from sleeping on the hard, cold ground. Lying in the bed now, she thought on how much she had missed the comforts that she was used to at Carlisle.

Sitting alone in the room for what felt like hours caused Jacqueline to do nothing but think. She wondered how different her life would have been had her parents survived. At the age of fourteen, she would have already been wed off to the first eligible bachelor. Being seventeen, she felt like a spinster.

She couldn’t help to think what had happened to James. One possibility remained that Jacqueline tried to disregard; that her brother or cousin had him killed. As much as she denied it, it would have been plausible. James was in the way of her cousin’s contract with Lord Wessex and Jacqueline knew all too well how important that contract was between them. She continued to think of everything and anything trying to avoid what had happened over the past few days. She thought it best to pretend that it never happened and that Ewan MacKinnon never existed.

One of the other ladies with whom she was to share a room, knocked on the open door and stood at the entrance. With her, she had a bowl of heated broth along with warm butter rolls that Jacqueline could smell from across the room. It reminded her of dear sweet Maggie and how she missed the auld woman. The young girl was close in age to Jacqueline. She had long reddish hair and her face covered in freckles. Her garb was a simple black nun robe and she appeared rather timid-looking.

“Hello. My name is Davina. I heard you were the English lass here to stay wit us. I have brought ye something to eat,” she softly whispered.

“Hello. My name is Jacqueline. Thank you for bringing me my meal.”

Davina seemed to have many questions for Jacqueline. Mostly about who she was and how she came to be at Ryelle Abbey. She also instructed Jacqueline of the rules that they were to follow while living at the abbey and the work they were required to perform.

In turn, Jacqueline learned much of her new found friend. Davina had joined the abbey when she was ten after given the choice to marry or become a nun. She took the path of Christ over the vows of marriage.

“You must wear this,” Davina said as she pulled out a long black robe from a small trunk for Jacqueline to wear.

Now that it seemed she got her denied wish to join the church, she was hesitant to become a full member of the convent, but she knew that it was for her own safety and she would be allowed to hide in solitude. 

“Davina, I need to send a message. Do you think Father Modine would find a messenger for me?” she asked.

“I dinna think that is a good idea. Ye are to have contact wit no outsider. Father Modine was verra clear.”

“Please, it’s important. I shall be sending it anonymously so that there will be no danger to follow.”

“I will. But ye mustn’t tell anyone that I helped ye or I will be living out more penances then I already have.”

“I promise. Thank you.”

Jacqueline greedily snatched the freshly baked roll from the plate. Biting off a small piece, the creamy butter melted in her mouth leaving her feeling satisfied. Licking the butter off her fingers, Jacqueline took out a piece of parchment from the side table and began constructing a letter to inquire about James.

Shortly after, Davina returned with one of the monks. Jacqueline gave him the folded parchment and instructed him to send it directly to James’ family outside of London. She was uncertain if the letter would get to James or not, but she felt that she had to at least try.

For a monk, he would easily be able to cross the border into England without being searched or questioned, Jacqueline thought. She recalled many traveling missionaries from all over who were allowed entrance across borders only by offering a small contribution to the church, whether it was coin or grain collected among their travels. Many of the monks that had passed through Carlisle offered them barrels of whiskey they acquired from the Scottish. She remembered the Scottish whiskey had a better taste than the ones brewed and served in England. She recalled her cousin once saying that whiskey was the only good that came out of Scotland.

Once the monk had left, Jacqueline gave up her luxurious gown and donned the black robe Davina had offered and went in search of Davina to begin her day helping out the other women with their chores.

Sitting on the wooden stool, Ewan slammed back his third tankard of watered down ale. He had decided to stop at the pub to join Bram and Oliver just outside Carrick. He was angry with himself for allowing his thoughts to wander. Looking down at his mug, he realized that he was starting to miss Jacqueline, as much as he tried to deny it.

He thought to himself that as much of a pain in the arse as she was, Ewan found her to be most captivating. But what would an English lady want with a man like him. He was no laird, nor did he have any coin or home of his own to offer her. Besides, she hated him because of his name and to whom he was related. Not to mention, she was already in love with another man. Ewan could not compete with that. He felt foolish for even having these silly boyish feelings.

“I should nay have kissed her,” Ewan said quietly to himself.

“Did ye say something?” Bram asked.

“Bram, are you familiar wit a mission my father may have went on several years ago to Ireland?”

“Ireland? Heavens, if it was one thing yer father hated, it was traveling across sea. E’eryone kens that. Poor mon would get sick e’en looking at a vessel rocking back and forth. Having the sea toss a mon about made him a mon of the land. Why?”

“I was told that he may have been. Possibly went to join a peace mission.”

“Nay, I ken my uncle and he wouldna traveled to Ireland. No’ unless he had himself a good reason.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Funny to be asking such questions wit out a good reason, Ewan. What are ye no’ telling me?”

“Nothing. Go back to yer drink,” Ewan snapped.

Ewan knew that it was impossible for his father to commit such a cruel act. With him deceased, Ewan knew that he had no way to prove whether it happened or not. The piece of cloth that Jacqueline had mentioned was found within her mother’s hand was the only proof they had. Ewan pondered on how he could prove his innocence.

Ewan continued to quietly sit at the pub while listening to Bram and Oliver talk about the bonny lasses glancing at them from across the room. They were betting with each other who would bed one of them first. Their laughter and loud voices carried over the music a young lad was playing in the corner of the room.

Feeling annoyed with his unsettling mood, Ewan called out to the boy, “That be fine music ye be playin’ laddie wit yer lute, but me head can take nay anymore of it.”

The small boy looked at him wide-eyed and ran off. Ewan did not mean to intentionally scare or upset the lad but his scowl did have a bitter tone. Tossing a few coins on the table, Ewan stood up and swung his scabbard over his back and decided to head out to camp. The sooner his mission was done the sooner he could return home and forget about Jacqueline.

“I will meet ye at the camp,” he said to the men.

“Ye are leaving? But ye would be missing out on the many fine lasses here. Ye ne’er deny a chance to bed down wit a lass. Plus Oliver here and I bet that ye would be the first to couple wit one of ‘em. Dinna want to make me lose my bet, would ya?”

“Bram, sometimes there are more important things in life than just a bedding,” he said as he turned away from him.

Bram yelled out, “That’s why ye are in a foul mood. It’s a lass, isn’t it? Ye have fallen for a lass.”

Ewan could hear him laugh as he exited the pub. He was in no mood for Bram to boast on and tease him about having feelings for a lass. He had no intention on telling Bram anything about Jacqueline and damn him now for knowing.