Breanna smoothed her hands down her borrowed silk surcoat and the proper linen veil. She felt fresh and shiny in her new clothes. Lady Jyne was a very good sort of person, and it made her feel all the more wretched for keeping her brother’s secret from her.
Breanna opened the door to the stairs a crack. She needed to have words with her brother and figure out more of what he was trying to do. She had agreed to keep his secret for now, but needed to be further convinced to maintain that falsehood. Of course, she was not at liberty to be too demanding. If Cormac refused to help, there was nowhere else for her to go. Just once in her life, she wished to be the one in control. Then she could take care of herself and her younger sisters.
Breanna walked up the stone stairs on silent feet. From below, the familiar whoops and hollers of Rex’s men assaulted her ears. She doubted her brother would be among them. She knew he disliked their company as much as she.
She rapped lightly on the oak door that led to the solar her brother had indicated he was inhabiting. The latch was not barred, so she opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind her. “Cormac?” she whispered out of habit. Staying in the company of her father and his men, she had learned to be discreet.
The solar was long, with walls rounded from the curve of the tower. It was sparsely furnished, but at least it was neat and clean, a step up from their usual dwellings.
“Cormac?” she called a bit louder.
A man appeared from around the corner.
It was not her brother.
“Och!” She stared at the man dressed in the black robes of a monk. “By the saints, who are ye?”
The monk stared back at her, apparently as surprised to see her as she was to see him. He was a young man, perhaps in his late twenties, with short, curly black hair. The hair on the very top of his head was shorter than the rest, most likely because he had shaved it in the manner of monks, and now it was growing back. He held himself straight and tall, with a certain aura around him of one accustomed to being in power. His eyes were a slate blue-gray in color and had such a solemn reserve to them, it seemed he was staring straight into her soul.
“I am Brother Luke. I was not aware that there were any other young ladies present.”
Lady? Was he referring to her? She had never been referred to as a lady before. “I was looking for Cormac. I must have gone to the wrong chamber. I apologize.”
“Master Cormac is currently residing in this chamber. He has not returned this evening.”
“I see.” She did not see. Why was there a monk standing in her brother’s chamber? And why did he look so familiar? “Och, I ken who ye are! Ye’re the monk that Core saved from getting his head lopped off. Ye’re lucky t’be sure. I’ve ne’er before seen a man be sentenced to death by Red Rex and walk out alive.”
The monk raised his eyebrows, forming wrinkles on his brow. “You have me at a disadvantage, for I still do not know your name.”
“I’m Breanna, Cormac’s half sister.”
“Greetings, Breanna. Would you care to be seated while you await your brother?” The monk motioned to a bench beside a square table.
Breanna could not help but laugh at the formal manner in which he spoke. No one had ever asked her to be seated. Sit yer arse down was more likely. “Where are ye from?” she asked, accepting the offered seat.
“I am originally from Florence.”
“Ye’re a long way from home.”
Brother Luke gave her a half smile. “That was the point.”
“Running from someone, are ye? What fer? Steal something? Kill a man? Long way to go.”
Brother Luke tilted his head slightly to one side. “What would make you think I was a murderer?”
Breanna shrugged. “’Tis why most men join my father. Done something so bad, they can ne’er go back. Did ye kill someone?”
“Only in my heart’s desire.”
It was Breanna’s turn to tilt her head. “I doubt that’s a crime.”
“The good Lord knows if we commit murder in our hearts.”
“Och, then I’m done fer!”
“Fortunately, the good Lord offers grace.”
Breanna gave him a tight smile. Wishing someone dead was something she was familiar with. Grace was not. “Mercy is no’ found in the household o’ Red Rex.”
“I suppose not,” said the monk, with compassion in his eyes. It took her aback. She was not accustomed to kindness, particularly from a man. “Is that what brings you to Kinoch Abbey?”
“Aye, it does at that. I’m to wed a bastard I despise, so I ran away. Hoped Cormac could help me.”
“No lady should ever be forced to wed against her will.” Luke’s eyes turned stormy, and his voice lowered with an ominous tenor.
She was about to reply that she was no lady, but the strong feeling with which he spoke halted her words. “I agree wi’ ye, but it happens often, I fear.”
“Yes, it does happen much too often.” Luke’s fists balled, and his eyes narrowed. “Powerful men often get their way when it comes to marriage and money.” Luke spoke with a cold contempt.
“Ye speak as a man of experience.”
“I am.” Luke’s cool blue eyes stared at her, yet there was a fire of intensity within. There was no denying it. Monk or no, he was an attractive man. He was a man who clearly knew love lost. And yet, was he not a monk?
“Shall I guess yer sad story?” She tilted her head so she could gaze up at him through her lashes. She was flirting. With a monk. Her life had met a new low.
“By all means.” He did not flirt in return, but neither did he banish her from the room, which was enough encouragement to continue.
“Ye were a poor farmer. Nay, an impoverished lamplighter. One night as ye went on yer rounds lighting lamps in the great city o’ Florence, ye looked up at an open window, and there on the balcony was the most beautiful creature ye e’er beheld. Ye knew in one glance ye must have her, and so ye called up to her, reciting poetry and singing ballads to make love to her from the cobblestone streets. After many months, she finally returned yer love and went to her father for permission to wed ye. But o’ course, it was a hopeless case, and her father refused. Crushed and determined to ne’er love again, ye joined the monastery to escape all female company and live out yer life in miserable celibacy, mourning for the lost love all yer life.” She ended the recitation with a dramatic flick of her hand.
“How did I do?” she asked.
“Perfect. Every word the truth.” He did not smile, but something in his eyes did.
“Nay, now ye tell me the true story.”
“But you have already told it. Only I was not a lamplighter.” His slate eyes gleamed.
“Not a lamplighter? A farmer then? A butcher? A baker?”
“Worse.”
“Soldier? Rag picker?”
“All those men do an honest day’s work for their keep. I did not.”
“I was right the first time, a thief! Is that why ye’re friends wi’ my brother?”
“It is worse than all those things,” said Brother Luke solemnly.
“I have it! Tax collector!”
“Worse. I was a duke.”
Breanna stared at him. A duke? No, that was not possible. She could not be sitting across a table from a duke. “Nay, ye’re in jest. No duke e’er came to the Highlands, surely. If ye was a duke, why dinna ye marry the girl ye wished?”
“Because I was not a prince.”
“Ye lost to a prince? Bad luck, that.”
He gave her a half smile and paused before he spoke. He seemed to be sifting through his words and would only answer once he found the right thing to say. She was a little envious of his self-control, for she was always saying the first thing that popped into her head and then realizing what she should have said a few minutes later. She was curious to k
now what he was filtering out.
“Yes, quite.”
His response was disappointing in that it revealed nothing. What was the mysterious monk thinking?
“So because ye dinna get yer first choice in matrimony, ye gave up all yer worldly goods and became a monk? A little drastic, no?”
“I may have been. I did take all my books with me.”
“Books?”
“The library at the monastery. Most of the books came from my collection.”
“The ones Rex threatened to burn if ye dinna bring him a treasure?”
“Yes.” Brother Luke ground his teeth. “I brought them here to be safe, and I will defend them to my dying breath.”
“Ye’d defend the books to the death?” Breanna raised an eyebrow at him. Giving your life for a book made no sense. “I appreciate yer love for books…actually no’ really, for I have no great affinity with any object. And if I was suffering from unrequited love, I certainly would’na give up hope of ever finding a suitable partner. Ye’re overly dramatic.”
A smile hung about his lips. Though she was not sure if his lips actually moved, there was certainly no broad smile or the upturned lips. And yet, she knew he was smiling at her. If he wasn’t a monk…
“You may be correct. Perhaps I did forgo the chance of love too soon.” Their eyes met and held together, the silent moment stretching longer.
“It is always possible to fall in love.” What was she saying? She was not a believer in love. Heat crawled up the back of her neck. She was surprised, for after living with her father and his questionable compatriots, she had thought herself beyond the ability to blush, but she did anyway. She blushed for Brother Luke.
“Perhaps it is as you say.” He spoke softly. His eyes were warm yet staid, as if they were the eyes of an older man. His face was clean shaven and thin. His chin was prominent, and his nose was long, which gave him a more distinguished air. The story of him being a duke was impossible, but she believed it.
Breanna looked away. She had to. She found him much too attractive for a monk. “Nay, ye probably did the best thing. Love is for poets and such, not—”
“Dukes?” interrupted Luke.
“Daughters o’ vicious warlords,” finished Breanna with a sigh. “When this is all over, I’ll probably end up married to that sorry bastard my father picked and get naught more than a whipping fer my troubles.”
“No one shall harm you.” Luke reached across the table and gently squeezed her hand.
Breanna stared at him. “How could ye stop it? And why should ye care?”
Brother Luke released her hand at once. “I…I do not wish to see any lady harmed.” He spoke it quickly and looked away, ill at ease. Something was there. The attraction she felt, he felt it too.
But…he was a monk. And despite being the illegitimate daughter of one of the most notorious warlords to tramp about the Highlands, she did have some moral standards, and they did not include liaisons with men of the church.
Even handsome men of the church.
Especially handsome men of the church.
“I should go,” she said.
“That does seem best.”
She did not move. Neither did he.
“Perhaps I shall see ye at table.”
He shook his head. “I eat my meals here.”
“Then maybe I shall see ye here.”
“I doubt that would be wise.” He picked up a scroll and examined it intently. She knew he liked her. Liked her enough to avoid seeing her to elude temptation. It was a compliment, really.
Breanna rose, and Luke jumped to his feet. She walked to the door and paused with Luke standing beside her. It was her turn to remain quiet as she considered her words. Before she could think of the appropriate thing to say to an attractive monk, the solar door jerked open.
Cormac strode into the room.
* * *
Core had spent a tedious evening with his men, the only sober person in a room full of drunks. He had tried to think of a way to get them to plow the fields, but nothing came to mind. How could he convince them to become farmers? It was impossible.
He wished to retire to his chamber, but his promise to Jyne made him stay. He had assured her that the elders would not be harmed, and the best way to ensure this did not happen was to wait until all the old ones were safely asleep in the locked refectory.
Spending the hours watching men acting badly did impress upon Core one thing. He was not going to win this one. There was nothing of value in this abandoned abbey. He needed to start making contingency plans.
“Ye need to go,” Core demanded as he burst into the solar. He was surprised to see his sister standing beside Luke and stopped short. “What are ye doing here?”
“I was looking for ye! And what do I find but a monk? Well!” Breanna stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
Core did a double take as she left. He had never seen her attired in a proper veil and elegant surcoat. Even her hair had been tamed into something sophisticated. His sister had been in the presence of Lady Jyne for no more than a few hours, and the transformation was remarkable.
“Your sister is very…” Brother Luke’s words trailed off as if he was unsure of what he wished to say. For a man who always spoke with such calculated precision, this was a disturbing trend.
“Aye, she is that, and twice on Sundays,” replied Core without waiting for the monk to finish his thought. “Now, ye need to go, and look lively wi’ ye.”
“Where am I going?” asked Luke.
Core handed him his cloak. “To the monastery. I’ve saddled a horse for ye and gave leave for the guards to come to the great hall for a wee bit to have some whiskey. ’Tis time for ye to leave.”
“But what about the need to find a treasure?”
“I will keep looking, but I think we both ken there’s none here. I will stall them for as long as I can. Ye get the monks to safety. Eventually, Rex will come, and they need to be clear.”
Brother Luke paused in the doorway; his steely eyes searched Core’s face. Core stilled. There was something noble in the brother’s wise eyes.
“I would be pleased if you would consider me a friend,” said Luke with solemn reserve.
Core swallowed down a lump in his throat. It was absurd how much Luke’s words meant to him. Perhaps Luke reminded him too much of the monks who had raised him, the only ones who had ever shown him kindness and then rescinded it when they discovered who he was.
“It would be an honor.” Core’s voice wavered in a manner he feared revealed too much emotion. He cleared his throat. “Now ye need to get going. Warn the brothers to flee.”
“And the books?” asked Luke.
Core shook his head. “Take what ye can.”
“But we would need wagons. And where would they go?”
“I dinna ken.”
“We need to move the books somewhere safe.” It was Luke’s turn to have his voice tremble. Clearly, the books meant more to him than anything. Core did not fault him for the judgment.
“I canna leave tonight, but tomorrow morn, I will come to help.” Core took Luke’s hand. “I promise.”
Core watched Luke leave, ensuring he escaped safely. After a long day, he wanted to do nothing more than sleep, but he knew things were going to go badly very soon. And before they did, there was something he must do.
Twenty-two
Jyne woke with a start in the wee hours of the night. She had a dream of trying to hide children from ghosts wearing horned helmets. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Ever since she had left the familiarity of her own castle, she had known one difficulty after another. It was one thing to think about adventures while sitting with family around the fire on a cold winter’s night with a warm mug of cider in her hand. It was much less comfortable to liv
e through one.
She pushed back the blankets and got up, relishing the cold stones on her feet. She needed something to snap her out of the bad dream. Breanna was sleeping on the pallet beside her bed, snoring softly. It was nice not to be quite so alone. Jyne wrapped a blanket around herself against the chill and sat in the window seat. She opened the shutter, breathing deeply of the cold night air. She needed the refreshing air to chase away the fears that had plagued her since the marauders had taken over her keep.
She closed her eyes in the moonlight and leaned against the cool stone wall, allowing the tension that had crept into her shoulders to release, and smiling as the wind played with her hair. It was a clear, crisp night, with a bright moon high in the sky. The moon and stars were the same moon and stars her brothers and sisters might be looking at right now. The thought was comforting.
She had longed for her own adventure, but now that it had been granted, she wanted nothing more than to see her family again. A pang of homesickness left a lump in her throat.
She turned her thoughts back to her current situation. She needed to find a way to oust the Fire Lord and his men or send for help. The Fire Lord himself was a puzzle. Why did he wear that hideous helmet? He must truly be a repulsive sight for him to never take it off. She had expected much more marauding and ruination, and she was a little surprised to see the men be raucous, but not terribly destructive.
She closed her eyes, and her thoughts naturally drifted to Cormac. He had stood with her against the wild men, helping her with every plan, and all for a kiss. Many wonderful kisses.
Instead of running from the danger, he kept coming back, helping where he could. He was tall and strong and had square shoulders and warm eyes. He had more than proven his worth in her eyes, so maybe her brother would accept him.
She had heard many a story of her elder siblings falling in love. They all had romantic tales that had made her long for one of her own. But to fall in love with the wrong person—that would be horrible. How could she know if Cormac shared her feelings, whatever those might be? He enjoyed kissing her, that much was clear, but he had also said he would not remain when her brother arrived. Perhaps he feared that because of his father, David would not accept him. Maybe he was right. But maybe he was wrong. If David would accept him, would he wish to remain by her side?
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