“Aye, we will join ye. We have some questions for Father Benedict.”
They filed into the church; it was such a small building. Despite the migration of English priests to Scotland, there wasn’t a surge in attendance on Sundays. The Highlanders gathered for weddings and celebrations, anything that involved a feast and dancing, but subdued sermons didn’t hold their attention for long.
Still, Creighton respected the priests who continued to try.
“I hear that you are looking for a bride, Laird Armstrong. There are some good Christian women among the Sinclairs. Will you allow me the honor of marrying you before you leave?”
“Possibly,” Creighton murmured.
“If you do not, you will want a suitable chaperone on your trip back.” The father gave him his full attention now, and there was disapproval in his eyes. “I heard that you are traveling with a young and unwed lass. Pray tell me that she is a widow.”
“She made her choices, Father. I could have left her to the unscrupulous characters on the road, but I did not,” he said sharply.
Everyone looked at him, taken aback by the vehemence in his voice, but he just clenched his jaw and ignored them. Thankfully, a few minutes later, Father Benedict appeared.
He was an older man, in his forties, but still powerfully built. When they’d found him, he was bleeding from the nose and mouth. Overnight, bruises had appeared around his eyes and neck. From the way he was walking, he had some bruised ribs as well, but he offered them a smile. “My heroes have come to visit with me. I am honored.”
“Father Benedict.” Connor bowed his head in respect. “Please know that I am horrified that such violence on a man of the cloth has happened so close to my borders. Ye may stay, heal, and rest for as long as ye need.”
“I appreciate that,” he said with a smile.
“We have some questions for ye, Father, and Father Edward has been kind enough to invite us to breakfast. Do ye mind?”
“No, of course not. I vaguely remember you asking me questions yesterday, and I apologize that I could not answer them.”
“Think nothing of it,” Connor said as they followed Edward out the back of the church and to the small cottage that Father Edward called home. Three large Highlanders and two priests had a hard time fitting at the table, and Creighton ended up pushing his chair back so he didn’t feel so crowded.
“What happened?”
“I was traveling. There is young blood in the priesthood of the Highlands”—Benedict’s eyes flickered toward Edward as if that proved his point—“so I am content to move from place to place and help where I can. Sometimes a resident priest will ask me to stay and help, but inevitably, I feel as though I must move on.”
More likely, he was asked to move on. Creighton knew how territorial some priests could be. “Ye were traveling alone?”
“Oh, aye. I had just finished performing some last rites for these poor souls on the road when the mercenaries attacked. I thought, at first, that they were for the family who had just left, but they had no coin on them.”
“So what did they want?”
“I do not know. They were waiting for someone and displeased that I’d walked into their trap instead.”
And they hadn’t wanted the father to make it to Sinclair and shout out a warning. It was nothing more than the poor father was unfortunate enough to spring the trap meant for Kylie.
“Did ye overhear them say anything that might be important?”
Benedict frowned and concentrated. “I had the impression that they were waiting for a young woman. They kept calling her the Erksine lass.”
“I can tell you right now that Laird Armstrong will not have any interest in Lindsey,” Cora told Moira as they walked through the village, their arms linked with Kylie in an effort to force her out into the sunshine.
She’d wanted to languish in bed all day, especially after Creighton had left without so much as a word of good morning, but she was just not the type to feel sorry for herself. But the two other women of the keep had seen the look on her face and insisted she walk with them while they talk through their strategy—to showcase the finest Sinclair lasses.
Now Kylie really wanted to return to bed.
“Why not?”
“Because I overheard her talking yesterday about how Creighton would be easily manipulated since he didn’t have any family.”
Moira scowled. “I always did dislike that lass. I hate all of this, ye know. If Connor had his way, the lasses would simply be lining up to parade in front of Creighton until he picked the one he thought was the prettiest. I swear, that man has the sense of a boar sometimes.”
“What is he supposed to think?” Kylie said, bitterly. “Creighton is only wedding for alliance and children. ‘Tis his fault if we think that beauty and purity is all he cares about. A name and childbearing hips.”
“Purity?” Moira asked, a confused look on her face.
“Innocence. Untouched. Ye know what I mean.” Realizing that she was bringing her own feelings into the conversation, she switched gears. “Jillian, Gemma, and Grace have all tried to change his mind, but he refuses to listen. The man is going to be miserable.”
“Men wed all the time for reasons that are not about love. It is possible to find compatibility,” Cora said thoughtfully as she looked at Kylie. “That is what we are going for here, but we do not know Creighton as well as you do. Perhaps you will assist us.”
Assist them in finding Creighton a wife? Kylie wanted to refuse, loudly, but they were watching her now, and why wouldn’t she want to help? Creighton had escorted her and protected her. If what he wanted was a wife, then she should at least help him. She owed him that much.
“All right,” she said slowly. “Let us discuss yer top contenders.”
Several torturous hours later, she was alone with her thoughts—too many of them. Alec had joined them at some point, amused at their conversation, and mentioned that they’d spoken to Father Benedict and that he was back on his feet. Feeling guilty that a priest had been hurt because of her, she decided to distract herself and made her way to the church.
The first priest she saw was a man close to her age, but since there wasn’t a mark on him, she had a feeling this wasn’t the man she wanted.
“Hello,” she greeted cautiously, “I’m Kylie MacSeaver. I was hoping to have a word with Father Benedict if he’s feeling up for visitors.”
“I’m Father Edward. You are the young lass that everyone is talking about. I’ve heard that you intend to make your home here, although I try not to put too much stock in rumors.”
It didn’t feel right to lie to a priest. “I’m afraid by now that most people know the trip was a ruse. I wanted to travel and speak to Laird Sinclair, but now that I am here, I suppose I might consider it. ‘Tis as good a place as any to settle down.”
A twinkle of amusement appeared in the priest’s eyes. “The Sinclair lands are a wonderful place, but I think there is more to your life than just settling down. Still, I am here if you would like to speak to someone. Father Benedict is amusing himself in my gardens. I am certain that he would love the company.”
From the slight edge in the father’s voice, Kylie had a feeling that Edward would like for Father Benedict to have some company. Or at least a distraction from his garden.
Excusing herself, she headed to the back of the church toward the father’s cottage. A figure was on his knees among the flowers and bushes. Praying or digging?
“Father Benedict? I dinnae mean to interrupt,” Kylie said softly as she approached him cautiously.
The older man turned, and they both stared at each other. The bruises forming on the father’s face were ugly indeed, and the cut along his cheek rough and ragged. Her chest squeezed at the thought of what had happened to him.
Then, she realized that he was staring at her with the same fascination. “Father Benedict, I am Kylie MacSeaver...”
“Or perhaps ye are Kaitlyn Erksine.”
> 18
Kylie’s heart stilled, and suddenly, she couldn’t catch her breath. She’d always felt that Kylie wasn’t her real name, but she couldn’t remember anyone calling her anything different.
“Why would ye call me that?” she whispered.
“Because that is what they called you, my dear,” he said kindly. “You look at me with guilt all over your face, but what happened to me is not your fault.”
He heard something!
Eagerly, she stepped forward. “Father Benedict, I did want to see that ye were settling in and feeling better but also to say sorry for what happened to ye.”
“And to see what I had heard.” He patted his hands in the dirt before he stood and brushed his hands off. “I’m afraid the lairds have already been here to speak to me. They are intimidating.”
Kylie scowled. “Were they rude to ye, Father?”
“Oh, no, of course not. That Laird Armstrong was most interested in keeping ye safe. I heard that ye have been traveling with him. Has he been kind to ye?”
“Oh, aye. Vera. Did ye tell them of the other name they called me?”
“Aye.” Benedict studied her. “Have I gotten ye in trouble, lass? That wasnae my intention.”
“No, no.” Neither of them would be happy to hear that she may organically be an Erksine, but she had been as honest with him as possible. What he learned now would be just as much of a surprise to her as it would be to him. “Can ye tell me something that might help me understand why Erksine would send mercenaries after me?”
“Erksine? That is who is after ye, lass? I had no idea.”
A little deflated, she wrapped her arms around herself. The past two weeks had been a whirlwind for her, and she thought maybe she might finally get all the answers she wanted, but the priest didn’t know anything.
Worse, he’d been hurt because of her. If they would do this to a priest, what would they have done to her? To Creighton, Andrew, and Clement?
No wonder Creighton had held her back.
“Lass.” Benedict reached out and took her hands. “Do ye wish to talk? We may not be in the church or in a confessional, but I promise that what ye say to me wilnae go farther than this. Unburden yerself, and let me assure ye that none of this is yer fault.”
Tears spilled from her eyes, and Kylie found herself telling him everything. The memories of her dead parents. The inconsistencies in Marcus’s stories. The guilt that Marcus did whatever he could to make her feel loved, and she’d railed against it for the truth. The stranger who’d taken her innocence. The news that Erksine may have been hunting her this whole time.
“I led him right to me, and now I’m putting everyone in danger.”
“Kylie.” The priest pulled her into his arms and let her cry. “Ye have experienced much hurt and pain in yer journey, and I am so sorry for it, but ye are strong. Ye will get past this and find the path that ye should be on. Trust in that.”
Trust. Maybe that was her problem. She hadn’t trusted anyone, and this is what happened. She’d told Creighton that he needed to open up and trust again.
Maybe she needed to do the same.
“Thank ye, Father Benedict. I am sorry that this happened to ye. I hope that ye will stay in Sinclair lands and recuperate.”
“I believe I will stay, if nothing else than for ye. If the path darkens again, please feel free to come talk to me.”
After promising that she would, she left him to his gardening. The sun was beginning to set, and she desperately wanted to keep walking. Moira and Cora had planned on allowing their top lasses to join them for dinner and parade in front of Creighton like cattle.
Pretty, sweet, virginal cattle.
With a groan, Kylie shook her head. What was wrong with her? She owed Creighton everything. Helping him find a wife should be her way of thanking him.
Turning, she headed back to the keep. She wanted to at least change before dinner, although she would be late.
Better late than showing up in the ratty old dress she was wearing now. Moira had mentioned that she would leave a few dresses for Kylie to borrow. Hopefully, they were in her chambers now.
She could do this. Creighton deserved it.
Where was she?
Creighton looked around the table and tried not to be annoyed. He was here to find a bride, and thanks to Moira and Cora, his table was filled with potential.
Kylie was nowhere to be seen. In fact, he hadn’t seen her all day, not since he’d left her sleeping so peacefully in her bed that morning. He’d wanted to kiss her and tell her that everything was all right. Instead, he’d left her and hadn’t bothered to check on her at all today.
He was about to open his mouth and ask Moira how Kylie was when he saw movement to his left. Turning, he stiffened.
She’d been crying. Her eyes were rimmed red, but she’d braided her hair and coiled it elegantly around her head. Tendrils framed her pretty face, and she was dressed in green. The skirts twirled around her, and he realized that she must have worn something of Moira’s. She was dressed like a lass of power.
It looked good on her.
Andrew stood so quickly that the cups on the table rocked back and forth. “Kylie. Ye should take my spot.”
Kylie smiled at him sweetly. “That isnae necessary, but thank ye. I will just sit at the end of the table.”
“Not necessary,” Moira announced. “I want ye to sit with me. Lasses, shift.”
There was some mumbling, but everyone got up and moved down a chair. Kylie blushed a little, and when she caught his look, she immediately looked down and walked to her seat. “I apologize for being late. I got caught up with Father Benedict.”
“Oh, how is he?”
“Doing well. I believe Father Edward is frustrated that Father Benedict is spending so much time in his garden, but other than that, he seems to be recovering.”
So had Benedict told her what he’d told them?
About Kaitlyn Erksine?
Creighton studied her closely throughout dinner. She didn’t seem like a Kaitlyn. Or an Erksine.
She was Kylie. Kylie MacSeaver.
Suddenly, that didn’t seem right anymore either.
“Laird Armstrong, what is yer keep like?”
Another one was trying to talk to him. What was her name? Bethany. All the female eyes swung his way, including Kylie.
Was that interest on her face?
“Not nearly as grand as here, of course, but ‘tis beautiful and ‘tis home. We have vines that grow up the trees and stone, and aye, they can become strangling, but we maintain them. A creek roams and branches out through the land. In the summer, the children enjoy splashing about. There was a fire that took out much of our forestry, but it’s coming back greener and more lush than before.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely.” There were sighs up and down the table, but he only cared about Kylie’s reaction. Her expression had softened, and there was a small smile on her face.
“My grandfather’s grandfather built the keep. They said he carried each stone to the spot because the lass he wanted to marry had no home, so he promised to give her one. Over the years, it grew more and more grand until she had a castle, for she deserved no less.”
The sighs grew even louder, but Kylie wasn’t looking at him anymore. She wasn’t looking at anyone.
He had upset her, and he didn’t even know how.
Dinner continued with his daunting task of trying to pay attention to multiple lasses at once without favoring one over the other. Before she finished her plate, Kylie quietly excused herself and slipped out. He doubted that anyone had noticed but him, but he couldn’t continue after her without drawing attention to it, so he was forced to sit through the entire meal until the end. Finally, he got up from his seat and made a hasty exit toward his room.
He desperately wanted to know what had put the sadness in Kylie’s eyes.
To his surprise, Andrew stepped in his path. Creighton narrowed his eyes. It wasn't like Andrew to bl
ock him from anything. "Is there a problem?"
"I would like to have a word with you as a guard rather than your friend."
"Fine."
"I would like ye to consider my request as a laird rather than as a friend."
Creighton stiffened. "Speak yer mind. I wish to go to bed."
"'Tis not right to leave Kylie here. We know she is in danger. Clement is wed. Ye have to marry for different reasons. Grant me permission to ask for her hand."
No. The word was on the tip of his tongue, but he knew he didn't have the power to do that. "She wilnae say yes."
He tried to move past him, but Andrew blocked his path once again. "At least she will know that she has a choice. That someone cares."
It was a punch to the gut, and Creighton snarled, but Andrew didn't budge. "Why are ye doing this? Ye dinnae love her. I know how ye feel about Lindsey."
Andrew flinched. "I dinnae know who ye are speaking of," he said stiffly.
"Kylie isnae an Armstrong. I have no influence over what she does.”
"Nay, but I am." There was a beat of silence. "Unless ye have a personal reason for not wanting me to wed Kylie."
Never had Creighton wanted to strike his friend, but he was already balling up his fists. "If ye wish to ask, then ye have my permission."
"Thank ye." Andrew started to walk away, and Creighton ground his teeth and reached out to grab his friend's arm.
"Not now." It was all Creighton could manage, and it seemed that Andrew understood.
"After ye have chosen a bride then."
They nodded to each other, and Creighton watched with mixed feelings as Andrew walked away. He was proud that his friend and guard wanted to do the right thing, but he shouldn't have to. Creighton had made the decision to escort Kylie. Her safety was his duty.
Would she choose Andrew when she'd denied so many others? The thought made him feel sick to his stomach.
Weary, he climbed the stairs to his room. He stopped outside Kylie's door and put his hand on it. He had no business being in her room and climbing in her bed again. She was clearly unhappy at the end of dinner, and he didn't know if he could help her or if he would make things worse.
Highlander’s Elusive Bride: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance Page 10