by Lynsay Sands
Lady Elizabeth stiffened at the accusation, sending an accusing glare toward Sister Blanche. She then strode stiffly to the door and threw it open, surveying the battle taking place in the heart of her abbey as Little George found his feet and joined Blake to face the armed women.
"What goes on here? This is a house of God! Would you battle here as if 'twere a tavern?"
Seonaid froze at the harsh shriek, as did the other combatants. Still facing the two men squared off against them, she cast a quick frown toward the abbess, her disdain obvious. "Open the door to the devil and he's like to walk in," she snapped impatiently. "Ye ordered the door unbarred; do not now cry foul because the wrong suitor entered and we now defend Lady Helen from the man who would murder her."
The abbess glanced sharply toward the two armed men, her gaze quickly taking in the fairer, smaller man's Scottish garb and the larger man's English clothes. She also noted the confusion on the men's faces as they took in Lady Seonaid's words. "How know you they are Camerons? One wears English dress."
Seonaid glanced toward the larger man, for the first time taking in the English clothes he wore. She had neglected to note that fact while in the heat of battle.
"And one wears the plaid," she pointed out, then sneered at the woman standing so self-righteous in the door of the chapel. "Howbeit, mayhap yer right. While I never would have thought to see a Sassenach in Scottish garb, I also never would have thought to see an abbess who cared so little for her God and her charges, she would be willin' to throw them to the wolves as ye've done."
Lady Elizabeth turned bright red, then suddenly paled as her eyes strayed past her to the room at large. Curious about her reaction, Seonaid turned to find the other men had struggled out from beneath the tapestry and were straightening their clothes. Her eyes widened. She immediately recognized the bishop and Lord Rolfe, though she had never before seen the prelate wearing the expression of mingled distaste and fury with which he was eyeing Lady Elizabeth.
"Bishop--" the abbess began faintly, but the bishop cut her off.
"I heard it all, madam, every word as I struggled to get out from beneath that accursed tapestry. Do not further your sins by spouting lies at me now."
"But I ..."
"Unbarred the gate so all and sundry may enter?" he finished when her voice faded helplessly away.
"Nay!" she cried at once, reclaiming her wits enough to try to defend herself. " 'Twas Sister Blanche who unbarred the gate."
"At your order," Seonaid stated, unwilling to see the woman escape her fault by pushing it onto another. Resheathing her sword, she turned to glance at the bishop. "Sister Blanche didna wish to unbar the gate but couldna refuse a direct order. She did it only because Lady Elizabeth threatened to return her to England in shame did she no do as she was told. She came to warn us as soon as the deed was done."
The bishop nodded his head in silent understanding. "Sister Blanche has naught to fear; she will not be the one returning to England in shame."
No one mistook the meaning behind his words, least of all Lady Elizabeth, who gasped as she hurried forward to fall on her knees before the prelate.
Seonaid grimaced at the undignified display, then glanced at Lord Rolfe before turning to peer at the two other men. Both of them had resheathed their own swords, though they remained tense and alert. It did not require much effort to work out who the man in plaid was. Her betrothed. Who else would be traveling with Lord Rolfe? Besides, Lady Helen's description of the man had been most apt. Fair-haired and handsome as an angel, or some such rot. He was all of those things and more. A fine specimen of a man. With excellent knees, she noted again, then frowned at her own wayward thoughts. He was the man who had neglected to collect her for so long, the man who had made it obvious he had no interest in marrying her. It took an order from the king to bring him to her, and she wanted no such man, especially an Englishman. Especially a Sherwell.
Besides, even had she been able to overlook everything else, there was no way to avoid the fact that he would no doubt find her sorely lacking as a wife. It took only one look at his handsome visage to realize it. Her betrothed was heavenly, perfect, and no doubt used to heavenly, perfect women. Seonaid suffered no delusions regarding herself. She was too tall, too thin, too unfeminine both in manner and in knowledge to even manage being average. She knew naught about being a lady and doubted she could even pass herself off as a true woman. She'd spent too many years in the company of only men. Men and Aeldra--but then, Aeldra was as lacking in the softer refinements of a lady as herself.
Nay, she thought sadly, he would not want her ... and she had no desire to hear him say so. While she might lack the finer requirements of a lady, she had more than her fair share of pride, and her pride was unwilling to wait about and hear his refusal. Gesturing for Aeldra to follow, she turned her back on the man and strode toward the door of the church, then paused to swipe up her plaid. She picked up Aeldra's as well and tossed it to her, then started forward again, only to pause when fingers closed around her upper arm.
"Where do you think you are going?"
Chapter Four
Seonaid paused in her steps, eyes snapping as she glared at the hand on her arm. She had known the moment she'd felt his touch who stopped her, even before she heard the smooth velvet of his voice with its clipped English accent.
"Unhand me or I shall unhand you," she commanded. Her lips curled up with satisfaction when he released her at once, though a glance at his face showed only surprised amusement and no fear. When he bowed to her with mock civility, Seonaid found the gesture most irritating.
"Forgive me, my lady. 'Tis poorly done of me to touch you without at least first introducing myself. Lord Blake Sherwell at your service." The introduction was followed by another of the mocking bows.
Seonaid shifted, her expression darkening before she forced a sickly sweet smile to her lips. "Am I supposed to ken the name, m'laird?" she asked at last. "Should it mean aught to me?"
Blake blinked in surprise, some of his self-confidence slipping. "What? Do you not recognize the name of your betrothed when you hear it?"
Her eyes widened. "Surely ye jest, sirrah? My betrothed died ages ago, at least ten years ago by my count."
Now he truly looked dismayed. "Died? Who the devil told you such nonsense?"
"Told me? Why no one, m'laird. I reasoned it out fer mesel' when he didna arrive to claim me ... ten years ago when I came of age."
The man had the grace to color at her words, though he regained himself and his quick smile swiftly enough. "I fear your reasoning was wrong. Tardy I may be, but I am certainly not dead."
"Nay. I fear ye're wrong an' me reasonin' was right," Seonaid retorted. "Me betrothed is dead. To me," she added harshly, then turned away and continued out of the chapel.
Blake stared after the woman in amazement. No female had ever dared to speak to him so, nor had any woman yet turned her back on him and walked away. Good God! Women were more like to sigh and swoon in his presence than to show him their back. He did not know what to do about it. Part of him wanted to order her to return to him at once. He had every right, she was his betrothed, and within a short time she would be his wife and under his order. Yet another part reasoned that he did not wish to marry her anyway. Why not let her walk off and hide herself in the abbey somewhere, refusing him? It would set him free.
Oddly enough, Blake quite suddenly no longer wished to be free, at least not this way. He was the one who was supposed to be reluctant to marry her, yet here he was, hesitant about angering the king and his father and unwilling to break the contract and give up rich lands. His would-be bride appeared not to suffer the same concerns. Losing her betrothal lands didn't seem to worry her. Impossible. He was the Angel; she should have been grateful he had come to claim her, no matter his tardiness. He was here, was he not? Who the devil was she to refuse him? A bloody Dunbar.
"All does not go well, I see," Rolph murmured behind Blake as Lady Seonaid slammed out of t
he chapel.
"All does not go well?" Blake turned on him irately. "Well! She is ... she is a barbarian. My God, she is wearing braies! And just look at the way she had at me with her sword!" Gaze narrowing, he glared at him. "Did you know she was trained in battle?"
Rolfe shifted uncomfortably. " 'Tis a valuable skill here in the Highlands, where--"
"She is an Amazon!" Blake interrupted. "God's toes! She is near to as tall as myself."
"Aye, she is quite statuesque," Rolfe began soothingly, only to be interrupted once again.
"She is also as flat as a door. Where are her breasts? And what is she doing in a man's braies? I swear I thought her a man when I first saw her." Frowning, he shook his head, saying aloud what he had thought but moments before. "She should be grateful I even bothered to follow her here, yet she insults me and walks away. Who the devil does she think she is?"
Sighing, Rolfe shook his head for answer and returned to the bishop to see what he intended to do with Lady Elizabeth.
"Lady Helen, please doona take on so." Seonaid tried for a soft tone but feared she sounded more annoyed than anything. She was uncomfortable with strong emotion, and there was no other description for what Helen was presently exhibiting. The Englishwoman wasn't exactly sobbing, and she did try to staunch them, but tears continued to flow down her cheeks in silent testimony to her exhaustion and fear. The worst part was, Seonaid could not blame her. The lass had done nothing but run and hide and suffer the fear of capture for days, and now, when she had thought she'd found a safe haven until her father could come to her, she had been shown the error of such a belief.
"Cameron will find me here. I knew he would eventually. I even left a trail for him to do so, thinking I would be safe within these walls. But I will not be safe. Lady Elizabeth will let him in and he will force me to leave with him. If so, I shall be dead."
Seonaid frowned as she paced the small cell she had occupied since arriving at the abbey. They were all there: Aeldra, Lady Helen, and a rather glum-faced Sister Blanche. Seonaid and Aeldra had come across the other two women outside the chapel and led them here. "Did ye no hear the bishop? He as good as said Lady Elizabeth'll be sent away. She'll no be in a position to allow anyone into the abbey."
"Aye, he says that now. Howbeit Lady Elizabeth is clever; I could tell that during our interview when I first arrived. I think she would promise him anything to avoid such shame. What if she offers something he cannot refuse? What if he changes his mind and lets her stay? Then she may grow tired of my presence as well and allow the Camerons in. I fear I angered her when she came upon us in the hall. I was most rude and she will most like be happy to hand me over to the Camerons when they come."
Seonaid's frown deepened, but she shook her head. "He will send her away. He's a good man an' she has nothin' to use to convince him to let her stay."
"She has you." When Seonaid stiffened, Helen nodded grimly. "They are here to return you to Dunbar. By rights, they should not even have been allowed to step over the threshold, but the damage has been done. She may agree to turn her head the other way while they steal you out of here in return for being allowed to stay."
Seonaid glanced sharply toward Sister Blanche. The good sister appeared worried. Her doubts made Seonaid decidedly uncomfortable. "Bishop Wykeham's a good man; honest an' gentle an' ... good," she finished lamely, then shook her head. "He'd no stoop to such to remove me."
"He's under order of the king to see the marriage done," Aeldra reminded her. "An' yer father signed the marriage contract. It's no as if he'd be stealin' ye to kill ye. His conscience may be salved by that."
Seonaid turned away with a curse, her gaze going absently out of the window in the small cell as she tried to think. The other women were silent as they waited. When she whirled suddenly back, only Aeldra did not start in surprise.
"Helen, go to yer room an' gather yer things."
"Why?" the redhead asked hopefully.
"We leave here at once."
"But your betrothed and the others--"
"They'll be busy fer a bit dealin' with Lady Elizabeth, I think. Long enough at least fer us to make our escape. Aeldra an' I'll see ye safely home, then seek shelter elsewhere." She paused, her gaze running over the flowing nun's gown. "Ye should keep that on in case we come across the Cameron along our way. Hopefully it'll fool him." Her gaze shifted to Sister Blanche. "Ye may come with us if ye wish. If Lady Elizabeth convinces them to let her stay, she'll make it difficult fer ye here."
Sister Blanche hesitated, then shook her head. "Nay. I will stay, but I shall help you to escape. I shall fetch some provisions from the kitchens."
"We'll be in the stables," Seonaid told her as the other woman slipped from the room. A glance back and a nod were enough to tell her she'd heard.
Seonaid turned back to the two remaining women. "Quickly, Aeldra, go help Helen gather her belongings. I'll go to the stables to saddle the beasties." She started toward the door even as she spoke, only to be brought up short by Helen's words.
"I have no belongings." When Seonaid turned to peer at her in surprise, she shrugged slightly. "I sent everything with my maid so I might travel faster."
Seonaid's eyebrows rose, then turned down in disbelief. She had yet to know a woman besides Aeldra and herself who did not carry about at least two or three trunks with her. "Ye brought nothin' at all with ye?"
Helen shrugged. "Just one sack, but I left it in the stables last night. I brought no clothes or anything else."
"Incredible," Seonaid marveled. "Well, lucky us, a woman with some wit. We'll travel like the wind. Come along."
"Did you not bring any belongings with you?" Helen asked in hushed tones as they eased cautiously out into the hall.
"Only what we always carry with us," Seonaid heard Aeldra answer quietly from behind. "Our plaids an' our steel, 'tis all we need to travel."
"Oh. I see," Lady Helen murmured doubtfully as they moved stealthily down the hall.
"Is he not finished yet?"
Rolfe glanced up at Blake's question and shook his head on a sigh. "He feels he must interview each of the nuns here 'ere he decides what to do about the abbess."
"Each of the nuns?" Blake asked with dismay. "Do you mean to say he intends to interview every single one of the nuns in this blessed place before making a decision?"
"He can hardly banish her without a fair hearing."
Blake grimaced and began to pace the room again, his mind in an uproar. He wanted out of this place; he had never been in an abbey before and much to his surprise he wasn't enjoying the experience. Blake loved women, all women, in every shape and size. Well, almost all, he thought, as the most annoying image of Seonaid Dunbar came to mind. Still, a building inhabited by at least a hundred women was almost a dream to a man like himself, or at least he would have thought so. Howbeit, it seemed he had been wrong. He'd never been so uncomfortable in a place in all his born days. These women were all so pious, so pure-looking, he felt like a wolf let loose among the sheep. A wolf with a conscience.
Amazing, he thought on a sigh. He'd seen very little evidence of a conscience in himself in this life when it came to women. If they were willing, he usually saw no reason to deny them the pleasure of his attentions. After all, were it not him, it would be someone else enjoying their offerings. At the moment, however, he was almost afraid to look at the women moving about around him. They were God's brides after all. 'Twas one thing to cuckold a man, quite another to try some such thing on God.
Seonaid managed to lead the other two women out to the stables undetected. All three of them worked at saddling and preparing the horses, accomplishing the task just as Sister Blanche returned with a sack of provisions.
"I fetched as much as I could, which is more than I expected, since the kitchen was empty."
Seonaid's eyebrows rose as she accepted the food. "Empty? The kitchen's never empty."
"Rarely," Sister Blanche agreed. "Howbeit, the bishop is questioning all the nuns
, servants, and lay sisters. He is taking an accounting of the abbess's behavior. I think he may actually dismiss her."
Seonaid and Aeldra shared a glance, then Seonaid sighed. "We canna take the chance."
"Nay," Aeldra agreed, leading her horse and Helen's out of their stalls as Seonaid hooked the sack to her saddle.
Sister Blanche followed as they led their horses out of the stables, worry plain on her face as she said, "You must be most careful. Never forget Cameron is out there somewhere."
"We'll be fine," Seonaid assured her with a smile, then mounted her horse as Helen hurried forward to hug the woman.
"Thank you, Sister. For everything."
Nodding unhappily, Sister Blanche hugged Helen back, then stepped out of the way as the woman mounted her own mare.
"I will try to hide the fact that you have gone."
"Thank you, Sister, but doona do anything that'll see ye in trouble. We'll send ye word when Helen's safely home."
Sister Blanche watched them urge their horses through the gate and race toward the trees. She was a forlorn figure in Helen's gown, with the white cloth over her shorn head. She waited until they had disappeared within the woods before turning and moving sadly back through the abbey gate to find out her fate. Either she or Lady Elizabeth would be banished by day's end, and neither fate cheered her much. Sister Blanche had a kind heart, and despite Lady Elizabeth's condescending air and shabby treatment of the nuns, it saddened her to imagine the other woman's shame. It might also be better were she herself to return to her home in such a circumstance than Lady Elizabeth. While her own family loved her and would show great understanding of the situation, she was not so sure Lady Elizabeth could make the same claim. There must be some reason she could be so coldhearted.
Blanche's thoughts came to a stumbling halt as she found herself colliding with a large male body. Glancing up in surprise, she gaped at the warrior before her, then took a quick, nervous step back. "My lord."
"You must be Lady Helen." When Sister Blanche's eyes widened, Lord Rolfe smiled slightly.