Seduced by the Laird (Conquered Brides Series Book 2) (5 page)

“My lord, Father,” Gregor said, addressing the Bruce and the abbot. “My sincere apologies for the way we have arrived.”

The Bruce chuckled. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. Now if ye can restrain yourselves, rise and let us speak.”

Gregor motioned for his men to stay behind with the exception of Samuel.

“Sisters, we’ve been expecting ye,” the abbot said. “Please, come inside.”

Kirstin glanced at him one last time, her expression once more guarded.

“I’ll behave,” Gregor murmured.

Was that a laugh? That slight exhale of breath he heard? Or was it his imagination? Wishful thinking?

She walked, head held high, hands folded demurely in front of her.

Gregor followed with Samuel, and was cut off at the last second by John, who slipped behind Kirstin and her companion.

Grinding his teeth, Gregor kept his anger at bay. However long they were all within the abbey walls was going to be a true test to his willpower and his capacity for mental anguish. For he wanted to pound John’s head into the ground, and he wanted to wrap Kirstin up in his arms.

Come hell or high water, he was going to get her alone, and he was going to get the answers to his questions. The past needed to be laid to rest, else he beg her to rescind her vows and continue a life with him. The one they’d started all those years ago.

Because the truth of the matter was, even if he hadn’t been able to admit it to her before, he loved her greatly. Madly. Deeply.

Chapter Six

Was this a test?

A test to see if she was worthy of the church? Why else would her aunt have insisted that Kirstin be the representative from Nèamh?

There could be no coincidence that Gregor happened to be called to Melrose at the same time. And yet, what purpose could there be for him to be here, other than as a distraction?

For certes, she was distracted.

Every emotion she could name had pummeled her insides since the moment she’d laid eyes on him.

So much left unsaid, unheard.

Crescent shaped dents were no doubt etched in her palms from the way she’d been digging her nails. When Gregor and John had been fighting, she’d actually feared one of them would end up dead. The Warriors of God were not men to be trifled with. They were trained to kill and had been absolved of all doings by the church. That made them deadly. No regrets, no remorse.

Yet, she’d seen Gregor play in tournaments and he’d bested most men, some days all. With so many years passing, he was certain to have grown stronger. As evidenced in the way he fought, the way his body had increased in muscle since she’d last seen him. He’d grown stronger. Maybe even a little taller.

Kirstin chewed her lip as she passed under the gates and entered the courtyard. Donna clung to her side, shaking.

“Calm yourself,” Kirstin whispered. “We must be strong, and have faith. We are safe, no harm shall come to us.”

Donna nodded uneasily.

Gregor and his man veered off with the king, while the abbot led Kirstin, Donna and John in the opposite direction. Kirstin couldn’t help the way her eyes followed Gregor’s back. The lines of his body hadn’t changed much, only filling in from what she remembered. Broader shoulders. Muscles that seemed to have doubled in places. Thicker arms and legs. And his rear… When her gaze landed there, imagining the way his tight buttocks had looked nude, she quickly raised her gaze to his head. He glanced behind at her, startling her, making her face grow hot with unwanted emotion. His jaw was stronger looking, too. His face, more distinguished. A decade had made him more striking.

Staring at his body brought back memories of what it felt like to be in his arms. To have him hold her, kiss her, wrap her up in his warmth. And more. The way it felt to lie with him, to have him over her, beside her, under her… A twinge of longing in her belly gave her pause. She wanted to relish it, because it had been so long since she’d felt anything like that.

And yet it was a sin to have such impure thoughts. To have felt the touch of a man and given herself to him when she’d vowed a life of celibacy. But it had been worth it.

Sadness swept over her. She was sad for what she’d lost. All she’d lost.

The weight of it rested on her shoulders, nearly crushing her.

Gregor turned just before they disappeared from view, dark eyes penetrating hers. The look on his face was enough to make her knees buckle. Thank the saints she was held up by Donna.

“What is it? Are ye ill?” Donna asked, her gaze concerned, the back of her hand touching Kirstin’s head.

Kirstin shook her head, offering a smile to Donna. “Nay, I am fine. Just a little nervous after that fight.”

That explanation seemed to be enough for Donna who nodded. “Aye, ’twas fearsome. Thought I was going to faint and fall right off my horse.”

“I hope the two of them have gotten it out of their systems so we need not witness such again.”

“Aye,” Donna mused. “I wonder why they did it?”

Kirstin kept her mouth shut. She knew why. Over the past two weeks John had taken a liking to her, one that they both knew could never go anywhere, as they’d both taken vows of celibacy for life in order to the serve the church, but still, he’d flirted with her, and she had flirted back on occasion, having missed the back and forth banter she’d had at Eilean Donan and Castle Buchanan. Those six months had been the most carefree indulgences of her life.

In so many ways.

The memories were bittersweet.

“Men have a penchant for proving their strength over one another.” Kirstin steadied herself enough to keep following the abbot through the cloister. The high arched ceilings and grounds were easily twice as large as Nèamh.

“I’m glad to be a woman then, can ye imagine if the nuns at Nèamh were always tussling?”

Kirstin grinned. “Women tussle, too, but more with their mouths and their minds.”

“That’s true.”

The abbot had stopped walking, seeming impatient as he waited on them to catch up. “I know your journey has been long, sisters, so I will simply introduce ye to the abbess, we will break bread together, and then I will have someone show ye to your rooms.”

’Twas on the verge of Kirstin’s tongue to argue. She hadn’t traveled all this way to simply wait to find out the reason for her journey, but all the sudden she was extremely exhausted. Drained, both physically and mentally.

“Aye, Reverend Father,” she said.

The abbot entered through a door, taking them into what looked to be a library. Books and scrolls were stacked on shelves from floor to ceiling. Tapestries depicting the Holy Mother and her baby, angels, and the heavens lined the spaces between shelves. Candles lit the space by the dozen. Mother Superior, looking just a few years younger perhaps, than Aunt Aileen, sat behind a desk and rose when they entered.

“Sisters Kirstin and Donna from Nèamh,” the abbot introduced. “Mother Frances.”

The two of them inclined their heads toward the abbess.

“Please have a seat.” She indicated the chairs before her desk. “I have heard much about ye Sister Kirstin, from Mother Aileen.”

Kirstin took a seat on the hard wooden chair, the muscles in her rear crying out as a reminder of how sore she was from their travels.

“Mother Aileen is too kind,” Kirstin mumbled.

Mother Frances looked like a hard woman. There were lines around her eyes and not many around her lips. She was a woman who frowned much, and hardly smiled. She might have been younger than Aunt Aileen, but she was most certainly not as happy.

“We are pleased that a representative from Skye was able to join us. Much has changed within the realm and the church, but we will get to that tomorrow. For now, please make yourselves at home. Ye will join the rest of the sisters for meals, prayers and our various charitable activities.”

“How long do ye anticipate us staying?” Kirstin asked.

“At least a fortnight, perhaps a month.”

Kirstin nodded, wondering if Gregor, too, would be here that long. How could she face him? Or the memories he dredged up? From the expression on his face, she’d be naïve to believe he wasn’t going to search her out.

What right did he have anyway? He’d pushed her away, not the other way around.

Though she had run off without leaving word or an explanation, she didn’t really feel like she owed him that. At all.

“Sister Kirstin? Are ye well?”

Kirstin blinked, having been staring blankly at the abbess for who knew how long. Before she could answer, Donna interjected.

“We traveled through the night. She’s not slept in quite some time. Perhaps I should get her to a chamber now?”

“Aye, of course.” Mother Superior rang a bell and moments later two nuns entered who looked to be about Donna’s age. “Please take Sister Kirstin and Sister Donna to our guest nun quarters.”

The nuns bowed their heads and beckoned them forward.

Kirstin mumbled her thanks, her skin prickling. She needed to get out of here. And she didn’t want to wait a month.

The two nuns before them, did not talk much. They smiled then faced forward as they led them down a darkened corridor, past several other nuns walking with their heads bowed, and a few scrubbing floors. She shivered despite the temperature not being cool. The virginals were being played somewhere, echoed by singing. The sounds would normally calm her, make her want to sing too, but now they only acted as an ominous backdrop for what the next several weeks held.

“Here we are,” one of the nuns said, unlocking a door and pushing it open.

The door creaked, thudding softly against the wall.

“’Tis dark,” Donna mumbled.

“There’s a candle and flint on the table. With it being warmer at night, we dinna light any fires in order to conserve. If ye get cold, there are extra blankets in the wooden chest below the window.”

And then the two were gone, drifting soundlessly toward the music.

“Hold the door open to let in some of the light from the corridor.” Kirstin shuffled inside, her eyes adjusting to the light and making out large, black lumps of furniture.

She found the table with the candle and flint, and set sparks to flame on the wick, illuminating the room. The guest quarters were somber and sparse, not much unlike her room at Nèamh, except that she’d been able to add small touches over the years that made it hers.

The chamber had four cots in a row, headboards against the wall, a foot or two of space between each where a small side table sat. Each cot looked to have a pillow and a blanket. There was a chest beneath a shuttered window, which Kirstin pushed open to let in some air.

The rush of air caused the candle to flicker, and dust motes danced in the shafts of light filtering in. She wouldn’t be surprised to hear they were the first guests to stay in this chamber for some time. The best rooms would of course go to the king and his council.

Gregor would have a room.

Where would it be?

“Suppose not many guest nuns come to Melrose,” Donna murmured.

“Oh, aye, I’d forgotten she mentioned these were the guest nun’s quarters. Well, we’d best set to cleaning afore we rest, else either of us wakes up with an ague.”

Too much dust often left Kirstin sneezing, stuffy and bleary eyed if she let it get to her. ’Twas one of the reasons she cleaned so much, besides the fact that it was one thing she could control. With a lifetime of events where power had been taken from her, and her destiny outside the grasp of her own control, she was glad for one thing in which she could calculate the outcome.

“All right,” Donna agreed, knowing it would do no good to argue with Kirstin when she was in a cleaning mood.

They dragged their pillows and thin mattresses out into the courtyard, beating them with a broom she found, until not a speck of dust flew when they were hit. Next, they shook out the blankets on the beds as well as the ones in the chest.

Kirstin sent Donna to procure a bucket and some rags and if possible lye soap in order to scrub their floor. When she returned, the two of them got to work on their knees. Possibly two hours had passed, and at last the room was livable.

They dumped their wash buckets outside, fingertips wrinkled, then blew out the candle and sank into bed. But the rest was short lived.

A knocked sounded at the door, startling Kirstin from her sleep. She scrambled to stand in the dark, momentarily lost. Where was she? Why was she here? What time was it? Who was she again?

She answered the door, seeing one of the small nuns who’d led them there before.

“Time for supper,” the lass said. “Come to the refectory.”

Kirstin squinted to see Donna climbing from her bed. The two of them no doubt looked affright. Her face felt heavy, body even worse. She could have easily slept through the night, and she would have loved nothing more than to request their food be brought to their chamber, but though she was born a lady, she was also a nun, and she’d already agreed to eating with the abbess and abbot when they mentioned it earlier.

“We will be there.”

“Five minutes,” the nun said, then turned on her heel and walked briskly away.

Kirstin and Donna brushed out their hair and readjusted their nun’s habits.

“I feel as though my head is swollen,” Donna said.

“Mine, too.” They’d barely had enough sleep, let alone enough during their two weeks of travel. “We shall eat and then sleep some more.”

As soon as they were out in the corridor, Kirstin’s nerves leapt a hundred octaves, causing all of her skin to tingle. The sun had set, but torches were lit to guide their way. They headed in the same direction they’d seen the nun scurry off toward, but still Kirstin felt there was someone watching. She turned catching a glimpse of a shadow at the opposite end of the corridor.