Her heart fluttering, she asked the question that would shape the course of her future. “Am I to remain in this convent for the rest of my days?” She couldn’t, it was impossible. Too soon, the abbess and the other sisters would grow curious about her, and their assumptions would be correct.
“I canna think ye can remain here much longer.” Glenn’s brilliant blue gaze dropped to her belly. “Will ye tell him?”
Out of instinct, she pressed her hand to the slight rounding of her belly. She pulled back her shoulders, and lifted her chin.
“He does not need to know. I would only be a burden to him. He would feel obligated to offer for me. I could not do that to him, not when Sir Elric is not a man who is to be tied down.”
“Ye wouldna be a burden ta him, lass,” Glenn remarked, moving a low-hanging branch out of their path. “He is the pater, he would want ta ken. Let him make that decision on his own.”
Something within her snapped and she dropped the basket to turn and confront the much too nosy Scot. Lifting a finger, she poked him in the chest.
“You have no right to speak to me of his decisions. He decided to bed me then toss me aside. He decided to wash his hands of me and leave me to languish in this place. He decided to never send word of where he is or ask after me. He decided that I was not worth his attention, and so I decided that he is not worthy of mine.”
She bent to pick up the basket she dropped, then sped down the path toward the side gate leading to the convent courtyard. As she strode through the gate, leaving Glenn behind to mutter to himself, she was met by a flustered Bron.
“Bron, what is it? Has something happened?” Minnette’s heart began to race, and as the woman’s face began to color, Minnette wondered what could have happened to leave the usually stalwart Bron in such a state.
“There is a man here, and he is speaking with the abbess,” Bron informed her, and Minnette’s mind tossed, turning with questions.
“Who?”
Bron met her gaze and answered, “Sir Glidden.” At the mention of that man’s name, the world rumbled beneath Minnette’s feet. Bron must have seen something on Minnette’s face because she asked, “You know him? He seemed intent on gaining an audience with you.”
She wanted to scream. “Of course he does. He is under the impression that he is my betrothed.”
Bron gasped. “Is he?”
Minnette shuddered. “Absolutely not. The union was orchestrated by my uncle before his humiliation. I had hoped the betrothal was a ruse, that Sir Glidden had never made a contract with my uncle.”
“He has come for you, then,” Bron finished Minnette’s troubling thought.
“Not if I have a breath in my body,” Minnette fumed.
Handing the basket of vegetables to Bron, Minnette made her way to the side door that led through the kitchens. The abbess’ private rooms consisted of her cell where she slept, and a small office where she attended the other administrative duties of running a convent. Minnette didn’t bother knocking on the door before she barged in, taking in the scene in a single glance.
Sir Merton Glidden was a pale blob of a man. His face was enveloped in undulating rolls and sweat, and his belly protruded over his belt. He wore breeches that were so tight, Minnette swore she could see the hairs of his legs through them.
“Lady Minnette,” Mother Mary Lucas snapped, rising from her seat behind her tidy desk. “I had hoped that during your time here you would have learned some sensibility and patience.”
Minnette, overwrought by the appearance of her supposed betrothed, didn’t heed the abbess’ words.
“Sir Glidden,” Minnette blurted and the man’s beady gaze dropped to the brown robe she was wearing.
“Lady Minnette?” he asked, incredulous. “You cannot be the woman I seek. I seek a wealthy and proper French maiden.”
Minnette snorted. “If my uncle told you I was wealthy, he told you a falsehood. I have nothing save for my trunk of clothes and a few trinkets Maman gave me.”
Sir Glidden lifted a large and preposterously long nose at Minnette.
“Cardinal Calleaux has promised your hand to me, my dear, and with it a fortune in gold.”
The abbess cleared her throat which made Minnette glance at her. The woman’s mouth was a thin line of displeasure.
“Sir Glidden, I cannot believe it appropriate to discuss such matters without the girl’s guardian present,” Sister Mary Lucas scolded, then turned to Minnette. “I am under the impression that the lady’s guardian is…indisposed.”
Again, Minnette snorted. This situation was getting more awkward by the moment.
“Oui.” She turned her attention back to Sir Glidden. “Sir Glidden, my uncle has given up all right to call himself my guardian. Therefore, any contract you may have had with him is no longer valid. As you well know, since I was not meant to arrive in Lorne alive.”
The man puffed out his chest and sputtered before raising a hand dramatically.
“Now see here, I know nothing about what you speak. You are alive, are you not? And the cardinal has assured me that our contract is, indeed, valid, and I am to take possession of you, escort you to meet with him, then we will return to Lorne.”
“With pockets overflowing with gold, I presume.”
The man’s face turned a terrible purple.
Mother Mary Lucas slammed a book shut, dropping it loudly on the surface of her desk. It worked to immediately silence the others in the room.
“Sir Glidden. Am I to believe that you have recently spoken with Cardinal Calleaux?”
Suddenly, the implications of what Glidden had said turned her breakfast to stone in her belly.
Sir Glidden beamed, a sneering smile curling up the sides of his too-wide mouth.
“Aye.”
“Where?” Minnette broke in.
“At Cieldon, of course,” Sir Glidden replied, and both she and the abbess stiffened.
He was lying. Cieldon had been abandoned by her uncle months ago, when his perfidy had been uncovered and he’d become a person of interest to Bishop Norton.
“How is that possible?” she asked, and his brows creased, his eyes narrowing.
“I do not see how—”
“My uncle has not been in residence at Cieldon for two months, Sir Glidden. Not since he was found out to be a fraud and a thief.”
Glidden tensed, the sweat on his brow beading into large blots. “Ridiculous! Calleaux is a man of God.”
“I can attest to what Lady Minnette has said. The cardinal is wanted for an investigation into his misuse of Church resources, monies, and edicts. I am afraid that anything he might have promised you is no longer valid.” Mother Mary Lucas came around her desk to stand beside Minnette.
“Minnette, my child, I will have Bron take you back to your cell for rest.”
Without any visible signal, Bron opened the door and stepped inside. “Minnette?”
Swallowing against the weariness that tore at her soul, Minnette gave one last look to the man she was relieved to not have married, and left the room.
“Minnette?” Bron murmured, her sweet voice a balm to Minnette’s aching heart.
“I am well, Bron,” she offered. As they walked down the corridor toward Minnette’s cell, a thought, once buried beneath mounds of doubt and fear, pushed itself to the surface.
“It is time that I leave.”
Chapter Thirty-One
“We’ve a problem,” Glenn announced as he jumped down from Sluagh’s back and tossed the reins over the saddle.
Elric stood from where he’d been squatting by a slowly babbling brook on the other side of a grove of trees. He’d taken up position in view of the convent and abbey over three days ago, keeping a close watch on those who were coming and going.
“What problem is that?” he asked, planting his hands on his hips.
Glenn replied, “Glidden is here,” before spitting into the brook. “I overheard the pucker-faced nun tell Minnette that Glidden was with
the abbess, seekin’ audience with yer lady.”
“Shite,” Elric cursed. “What is that pompous fool doing here? He must know that Calleaux has become persona non grata in the Church. Any contract he made using the authority given him under false pretenses is void. He cannot think to actually marry Minnette now that his plan to allow her death has fallen through.”
Anger, raw and deep, tore at him. Glidden would not have what was his!
Glenn shrugged with a casualness that belied his deadly capabilities. “Mayhap he doesna ken about Calleaux’s fall from grace. The Church would have kept such information close ta the chest, and there are few outside o’ our circle who would ken o’ it. There’s not a brother who would speak of it, lest he make himself a target.”
And that was the ugly truth of it. With Calleaux run aground and rabid for revenge, there was no distinguishing friend from foe. With Grieves and the rest of the personal guard, there were capable men at his disposable to flush out anyone with information on the whereabouts of the members of the Homme du Sang. Though they had yet to be officially disbanded by order of the Church, it was as good as done. He had not seen anyone but Glenn in two months, and he had heard little about the others save for Leon who was traveling back to Bridgerdon on a personal errand.
They all knew the danger of ever speaking of their ties to the order, that the eyes and ears of the once incomparable Calleaux were many and spread wide. It was no secret he wanted them all dead, and that he was more than willing to hire men like Stringer Black to do his bloody work.
He remembered the look on Minnette’s face when he’d last seen her in the bishop’s rectory, how breathtakingly beautiful she was even in the brown robes of a monk. She’d just survived one of the most horrible encounters any other woman would have been broken by. But she’d remained as stubborn as he expected, refusing to tell him what happened to her that night she was forcibly removed from Bridgerdon. Since then, he’d informed Tristin and Bell Heather of what had occurred, and they’d sent word that two of their patrol guards had been murdered and the armor of one taken. Stringer had disguised himself and made his way through the gates undetected. Since then, Tristin had ordered that each man remove his helmet at the gate so that his identity could be authenticated before entry. It was a good plan, one he intended to implement at Marchande once he returned.
And return he would. It was his home.
“Glidden isna a man to let such a slight go unpunished,” Glenn remarked, breaking into Elric’s thoughts.
“Aye. More than likely, he was promised a hefty dowry in return for Minnette’s being hidden away in the far reaches of Scotland. No doubt, Glidden was counting on that dowry to fund his continued campaign against the rowdy Scots.”
Elric couldn’t help the teasing smile he tossed to Glenn, who blinked at him innocently before replying, “Ye should be glad I have no desire ta slit a throat today. Even one as thin and womanly as yers.”
Elric threw his head back and laughed, enjoying the long-missed levity. Over the last several weeks, he’d spent many an hour with his father, trying to catch up on years of missed moments. It had been heartbreaking to learn of his father’s misfortunes after he’d left. The estate began to fall into ruin, and his stepmother’s disloyalty emerged once the gold began to run out. But there were also moments of laughter and joy, when he and his father had started to become reacquainted.
It had been too long. But now, he was part of his own family again—what was left of it.
“What do ye plan, Commander?” Glenn asked, his sharp gaze taking in Elric’s expression.
“The plan is to convince Minnette to come with us.”
Glenn snorted. “Convincin’ that one will be like convincin’ a sow ta butcher itself fer supper.”
Elric grinned, knowing the truth of those words. His smile faltered, though, when he thought of Minnette.
Her beautiful face and fiery spirit had kept him warm and aching on those long, cold nights in Marchande. His father had asked him if he’d found himself a woman to marry, and he’d answered, “Aye, if only she will have me.” His father had nodded in understanding, telling Elric that his own mother had needed convincing that he was worthy of her affections.
“When a woman brings you low enough to beg for her hand, she is a woman worth begging for, Son.”
That was Minnette. His Minnette.
“I take it ye’ve an idea on how we’re ta make Minnette come with us?” Glenn arched a black brow, his lips quirking.
“We abduct her,” Elric announced. “Tonight.”
Glenn’s chuckle filled the small campsite as Elric set to planning.
By the time the plans were set, it was after sunset. They hadn’t made a fire because they did not want to leave anything behind. Their gear packed, their horses readied, Elric waited for Glenn to appear from the blackness.
A twig snapped behind him and he swung, hand on his sword hilt.
“Damn, man,” Elric grumbled.
Glenn grinned lopsidedly. “I broke the twig ta give ye fair warnin’.” Glenn was a demon of the dark, folding himself into the shadows to become one of them. You would not hear him coming unless he wanted you to. He was death in black boots.
“Have you acquired what we need?” Elric asked, ignoring Glenn’s mocking expression.
“Aye.”
Without another word, Elric lead Bellerophon through the trees and brush to the outer wall of the convent. There were no guards, but there were sentries who stood vigilant within the walls to guard against wayward sisters. If their plan was to work, they had to get in and out without anyone seeing them. Glidden would ask questions about Minnette’s sudden disappearance, and they didn’t want anyone who could tell him that two men took her. Glidden wasn’t an intelligent man, but he would immediately assume that the Homme du Sang had a hand in it.
Once Minnette was in his keeping, Glidden would have to cleave Elric’s head from his body before he could take Minnette from him.
At the outer wall, Glenn removed the rope and grappling hook from his pack, expertly spinning it then tossing it upward into the pitch darkness. The sound of metal hitting stone was the only indication he’d hit his target.
“Up we go,” Glenn said as he climbed the rope, hand over hand until he was at the top. Elric followed. From the top, they could see a small courtyard framed on three sides by an arched cloister, consisting of walkways abutting stone buildings.
“Which one?” Elric asked, knowing that Glenn had had ample time to spy the layout of the convent.
Glenn pointed to a building at the north end. “There. Second ta last.”
Nodding, Elric jumped from the wall, landing on the ground with a thud. Before following after him, Glenn freed the hook and coiled the rope to use for their ascent from the other side. They could not leave it behind lest someone happened upon it and sounded an alarm.
Once Glenn was beside him, Elric skirted the open courtyard to the north building. He couldn’t hear him, but Elric knew Glenn was close behind.
The corridors were short and the sconces along the walls were few, leaving areas shrouded in darkness. It only aided them in their plans, but Elric didn’t like how easy it was to move about unnoticed. Anyone could have come along before him to take Minnette. It was a wonder they hadn’t.
At the second to last door, Elric signaled for Glenn to keep watch then slowly depressed the door latch. It made a low, groaning noise before swinging open. The room was dark, but Elric could make out a single, thin cot, a writing desk beneath the only window, and what looked like her traveling trunk against the far wall. It was sparse, more fitting for a beggar than a lady.
Once I have her safe at Marchande, I will buy her all she could ever want or need.
Holding his breath, he made his way to the cot where a lone figure lie curled into a ball.
His heart ached. How could he have left her with so little, with nothing more than a thin blanket to warm her at night, and only silence and loneli
ness to comfort her?
He never should have left her, but he’d had demons to exorcise, forgiveness to attain, and guilt to shed. Before he’d left, he was not fit to belong to anyone. But now, he only wanted to belong to Minnette.
Standing over her now, he peered down at her sleeping form. Her hands were tucked up under her cheek, and her long, black lashes fluttered in her slumber.
God, she was beyond lovely. Even in the night, she seemed to glow with something ethereal and pure.
Kneeling beside the cot, he ran a finger over her cheek, marveling in the softness of her skin. He opened his hand, placing his palm against the warmth of her face. She groaned, pressing her face into it.
Her eyes opened and she shrieked, scuttling away from him until her back hit the stone wall behind her. Her eyes wide and the blanket clutched to her breast like a shield, she looked like a frightened child.
“Kitten,” Elric murmured lowly, “it is only me.”
She blinked, then blinked again, her chest rising and falling erratically.
“Elric?” she whispered.
He offered her a charming smile, one he knew she would appreciate. After all, it had won her once. “Aye, tis me, my love.”
At his lazy proclamation, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.
“What are you doing here, Sir Arse? Have you not had enough fun at my expense?”
He nearly recoiled at the venom in her tone.
“I am here for you,” he answered, rising to his feet to extend his hand. “Come, we must go.”
She glared at his hand then huffed. “Non. I will not go with you, now or ever. You need no longer bother yourself with things pertaining to me. You are herewith relieved of your duties as my escort and protector, duties you have neglected for the last two months.” She waved him off and made to lay down once again.
Seething now, and a little guilt ridden, he snapped, “We go now, Kitten.” Without preamble, he reached down, grabbed her, and flung her over his shoulder. She let out a short scream which he cut off by giving her a resounding smack to her arse. Lord, but it was perfectly formed and lush. To once again have her lovely arse bouncing against him as he thrust would be Heaven.
The Fire and the Sword (Men of Blood Book 2) Page 33