"It's all right," he whispered the words over and over, making her feel something she hadn't felt in a long while … protected and safe. Silence settled around them as he simply held her, letting her tears work their healing magic. Gradually, her trembling melted away and her torrent of tears ceased until there was only the two of them, warm and comfortable and at peace.
Far away a hawk screeched. The vibrating, scratchy sound floated on the afternoon breeze and then disappeared.
"Brianna?"
She stiffened, suddenly afraid to look at him. No one had ever seen her this vulnerable before. What should she say?
She shifted her gaze to his, at the non-condemning look in his dark eyes; something unfurled in her soul. "I never thought I'd say this, but thank you for making me leave Teba. If you hadn't I wouldn't be here with you now. We wouldn't be sharing this moment." Her throat tightened. "And thank you for understanding my tears." She could say nothing more against the knot in her throat.
"My pleasure," he said with a grin that sent warmth sliding through her. "Let's not make that a habit, though. With seven sisters, I've had plenty of tears in my life."
Unexpected laughter crept up Brianna's throat and burst into a bright, musical sound in the afternoon air. She smiled. "I'm quite done."
Simon's laughter joined hers, mingled, merged, and floated high overhead. Brianna stared at the man before her. A breeze ruffled his hair and the afternoon sun cast him in a pale gold light. Her breath caught. The laughter inside her faded and was replaced with a quiet sense of wonder. She realized in that moment just how handsome Simon was. His eyes weren't just dark. They were midnight blue, the color of the sea. And just like the sea he was storm and calm, always changing, never the same.
The moment seemed to lengthen as Simon's laughter died, and a thick, charged silence followed. Brianna reached up and touched his face. She brushed a lock of hair back from his eyes. Her fingers strayed to the strong, straight line of his cheekbone and followed it in a single brushing stroke.
Words, dozen of them, pushed through her mind, but none of them came to her mouth. What could she say to this man who had rescued her not once, not twice, but three times — from Teba, de la Roche, and now from her father? He'd given her back her laughter and made her smile when all she'd wanted to do was run. She owed him so much.
Silence stretch between them until it was broken by the call of a hawk high overhead. "We should be going if we are to meet Kaden and the men as planned," Simon said.
She nodded. "It's time." It was time for so many things — time to confront de la Roche and time to step into their future, whatever that might be.
Simon started to get up, but Brianna pulled him back to her. She pressed a kiss to his lips, lingering there for only a heartbeat before she pulled away. "I love you," she whispered against his cheek. "I expect no words in return, for I know you are not fully free to say them to me. But I wanted you to know before we go into this battle what is in my heart. What has always been in my heart."
He pulled her tightly against his chest. "There will be plenty of time to speak of such things when we are through." He released her. "Until then." His dark eyes filled with promise.
Brianna swallowed back the sudden lump that came to her throat. Aye, there would be plenty of time if her vision did not come true. She closed her eyes and said a sudden prayer that for once in her life she'd be wrong about the images that had come to her.
Please let me be wrong!
Any peace or serenity that had settled over Brianna was broken by the sound of hoofbeats approaching from the castle. She looked up from her position in Simon's arms to see something she'd never expected.
Her father.
"Brianna Sinclair. Don't you run away from me," he called as he brought his horse to a stop a short distance from the tree near where they sat. He dismounted and hurried toward them.
Brianna scrambled to her feet. A wave of fear moved through her at the almost desperate eagerness in his expression.
Simon came to his feet and reached for his sword. Brianna stalled his movements, laying her hand over his.
"I'll not let him hurt you again," Simon said.
"Ready the horses. This won't take long." She stepped away from Simon, moving to her father's side. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Simon did not move away. He stood nearby, his hand firmly on the hilt of his sword.
He would protect her even now.
She would have smiled had she been less afraid. Her hands were shaking. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and looked her father straight in the eyes. "Father," she acknowledged, as he stopped ten paces from her.
The eagerness in his expression died. His face paled as his gaze lit upon her sword. "I've taken everything from you. I've called you names. I've aligned you with the Devil himself." He released a shuddering sigh. "I've given you every reason to hate me, and to use that weapon on me. And yet, you do not. Why?"
"Because you are my father. Regardless of how you feel about me, I would never do anything to hurt you."
He shook his head. "It makes no sense. Your brothers would have sought retribution had I treated them the same way."
Brianna's fear ebbed. She straightened. "As you have more than once pointed out, I am not my brothers."
"Nay," he agreed, worrying his hands in front of him. "That you are not."
Silence fell between them until Brianna asked, "Was that what you wanted to say to me? If you are through, Simon and I are needed elsewhere." She fixed him with a pointed stare.
The man shivered beneath her gaze. His throat worked, but he said nothing, as though words suddenly failed him.
That had never happened before.
Brianna frowned. "Was there something more?"
A flicker of sadness passed over his lined face. "I came out here— I had to say—" He broke off and looked away. "I should never have forced you to go to the abbey."
The muscles of her stomach tightened at his admission. It was the first time he had ever admitted any wrongdoing on his part, and yet he did not reach out to her as a father would. He couldn't even meet her eyes. "How would my not going to the abbey have changed anything?"
"It was all my fault. I should never have sent you away."
Brianna's frown increased at her father's words. Simon took a protective step closer. With a shake of her head, she stilled Simon's advance.
Her father looked up at the afternoon sky. "I am beginning to see that if I had not sent you away, none of this would have happened … the Templars … your brothers' deaths … you wearing a sword."
At his words, any hope inside her died. He wasn't here to make amends or admit to any wrongdoing. He had come to her for a salve to his own guilt. And yet this time she felt no pain, only an easing, as if a burden had been lifted from her. Her father would never understand what was in her heart, or how the dreams of prophecy were a vital part of who she was. She was a warrior and a seerer. And those things did not make her evil. They made her special.
Brianna straightened at the realization.
Simon saw her gifts as special. The other Templars did as well. And she would use those gifts now to help save others. If her father wanted nothing of that, then so be it.
She moved to her father's side and placed a hand upon his arm. His gaze shot to hers. "I forgive you, Father, for never understanding me. I was brought into this world for a purpose. I know what that purpose is now."
She pulled her hand away. "If you'll excuse us, we must leave." Signaling to Simon, Brianna hastened to her horse, leaving a startled Henry Sinclair standing alone by the tree.
"Come, Simon. We have a battle to win."
Chapter Twenty-one
The day took on an unreal quality for Simon. It was as if he had entered a space without time as he and Brianna rode across the terrain.
De la Roche was close.
He could feel the man's presence on the back of his neck. Yet they had no idea where the Frenchman was.
The bastard could pounce on them in an hour, at sundown, or even on the morrow. Simon stiffened. What was he doing? He was thinking like a sheep staked out for a lion. God's Blood, he might as well bare his chest for de la Roche's sword. Nay, he had to stop thinking the way de la Roche expected.
And, he wasn't in this battle alone. With Brianna by his side, they would be a mighty force. They had experience, and together they could outsmart the villain if only all the forces they had gathered arrived in time.
"What do you think de la Roche expects us to do next?" Simon asked the woman at his side as they rode toward Pennyghael Abbey.
"He'll expect us to come charging into battle, with tempers high and swords drawn," she replied.
He'd been thinking the same thing. "Then we should do the opposite."
"Methodical planning instead of full-force confrontation?" she asked with a hint of a smile.
He nodded. "We'll have to be one step ahead of de la Roche if we are to succeed."
Her smile slipped as they arrived at the abbey. They dismounted. "Now that we have arrived, how will we signal the others?"
"Do you remember how to signal in Templar code using abbey bells?"
"Bells?" she asked, then her eyes went wide and the smile returned to her face. "Aye. The abbey's bells will be heard by half the countryside."
Satisfaction rode through Simon at their new plan. "It is time for us to turn the tables and become the hunters instead of the prey."
Brianna took a step toward the abbey below. When he didn't follow she turned back to him. "Are you coming with me?"
"Nay. You go down there and send the message while I prepare things here."
She came back to stand before him. Determination lit her eyes. "We go together or not at all." She offered him her hand.
Together. He knew she was afraid to leave him alone now that they were so close to the conflict. Perhaps he should be more afraid of being alone… He slipped his fingers between hers. "We'll go together."
At Brianna and Simon's knock, an older, gray-haired monk opened the heavy wooden door of the abbey and looked upon them with suspicion despite Simon's monk's robe. "What brings you to our doorway, Brother?"
"Are you the abbot here?"
"Aye. I am known as Brother Emmanuel."
"Brother Emmanuel," Simon pulled to the hood back from his face, revealing himself fully. "I know this is most unusual, and I apologize, but we must beg use of your bell tower to alert others of our whereabouts."
The abbot's eyes went wide as he shook his head. "We want no trouble here. It is all we can do to hide ourselves away from that scoundrel who terrorizes this land."
"That is why we are here," Simon said loosening his robe further to reveal the Templar tunic he wore beneath the heavy robe.
The door opened wider as two other monks stepped forward from the darkened corners of the entry. "A Templar?"
"The Scottish Templars are assembling for a final stand against the Frenchman, de la Roche." Simon's gaze fixed on the abbot. "It is most urgent that we ring the bells. I promise to explain all as soon as we alert our Brothers of our location."
The abbot stepped back, as did the others, and waved Simon and Brianna toward the hallway. "Down and to the right, you'll find the staircase leading to the belfry there."
"Many thanks, my Brother," Simon said a moment before he and Brianna shot forward. Their footsteps echoed through the abbey as they made their way down the stone hallway, then up the stairs to the belfry tower.
From the height of the tower, Simon looked out over the land. They had reached their destination. It was time to alert the others. With a hand on the ropes, he paused. "Dear God," he whispered at the sight of de la Roche's army spreading like a blight across the gently sloping land. They were heading toward the abbey. One light spot that could only be de la Roche's white stallion led the mass forward.
The end was near.
"Help me ring the bells, Brianna. We must ring them now."
The staccato ringing filled the air. One ring, a pause, two rings, a longer pause. One ring, then three. The Templar warning to all who could hear to gather together and head toward the sound. Together, he and Brianna repeated the warning two more times before the bells fell silent. They'd done what they could do here.
Silently, they left the tower and strode once more toward the abbey door where several monks lined either side of the hallway, waiting.
"Simon?" Brianna asked as they neared.
"I see them. They will not stop us." He tightened his grip on Brianna's hand, needing the support her nearness offered.
"Blessed Jesu, we heard your call," a tall, slender monk stepped forward. "I am Brother Andrew." He bowed. "Some of us answered the Templar call years ago, then when the Order disbanded, we gathered here to continue our lives in peace and prayer. How can we help?"
"You were Templars?" Simon stared at the monks as the impact of Brother Andrew's words slid over him. Peace and prayer. How could he ask these men, even for a day, to become once again what they'd turned away from? Or if they kept their peaceful minds, would de la Roche's army tear their lives into shambles and horror?
"An army of considerable size approaches. If I were you, I would gather the monks and flee for safety."
Two of the monks stepped back into the shadows. "We must hurry if we are to escape."
"Hold." The abbot's voice echoed off the arched stone of the hallway. "Our calling might be of another nature in this time of great need."
The abbot and several other monks gathered behind Brother Andrew. "What if we chose to stay and fight?"
"You would do that?"
"The role of warrior is not one we take lightly, but we would rather accept the yoke of future penance than see our countrymen fall."
The two monks who had hidden in the shadows stepped forward. Anxiety turned their faces ashen, but they stood behind the other monks. "If the others fight, we will stand beside them."
Simon nodded in approval. "Then prepare yourselves and meet us in front of the abbey when you are ready."
Brother Andrew bowed then turned to face the other monks. "Brother Michael, Brother Thomas, Brother Peter, to me," the monk-turned-sergeant said in a booming voice that the walls of Pennyghael Abbey had never before heard. "Brother Harold, Brother Silas, Brother Paul, you will go with the abbot. Alert the other monks that we are needed to fight once more. We have much to do and little time to do it in." The monks vanished through the open abbey doors as they set upon their tasks.
"I didn't expect that outcome," Brianna breathed beside Simon.
"Nor I." Simon paused at the doorway. Usually before a battle he felt very much alone. It was always him against death. One outcome or the other. He'd eluded death so far. Yet today, he did not feel the same aloneness as before other battles, even when he had battled with his fellow Templars. Today, Brianna's hand warmed his own, and the monks of this abbey had put aside their peace to spare others pain.
His body warmed as he reached for his sword. His hand closed around the hilt, feeling the familiar grooves of the intricate carvings as they fit themselves into the calluses of his palm. He knew with a surety the path his own life must take when this battle was over. He was not meant to be a monk. He needed peace, but not the kind he'd had in the past. He needed the peace and security of love. His gaze connected with Brianna's.
There were things in this world worth fighting for, worth killing for, worth dying for. All a man could do was to pick his causes with care and walk the path his heart told him to follow. He did not know if death awaited him this day as Brianna's dream had predicted, but he finally understood what was in his heart. "Brianna, I—"
"Simon!" Kaden shouted as he, Alaric, and Kendall rushed for them. "We were approaching the abbey when we heard the bells."
The words Simon longed to say stilled on his tongue. He would speak his heart to her when this battle was through. With one last longing glance at Brianna, he turned toward his men. "How is Roinald?"
"He is stable, but too weak to travel with us," Kaden said. "We left him at the priory with Brother Kenneth. The rest of the monks there are heading this way along with Hector's men."
"That is good news. Come, we must ready ourselves." Simon moved to his horse, opened the saddle bag, and withdrew a white garment that he handed to Brianna. "This is yours. I saved it for you after it was taken away. I want you to have it now. Wear it in this battle if it will give you the courage and strength you'll need."
Brianna accepted the garment and stood staring at the bold red cross atop the white. "My Templar tunic." She looked up to meet his gaze. No tears shone in her eyes, but there was joy along with determination. "Thank you, Simon." With a smile, she donned the garment and fastened her belt and scabbard over the top; she tucked the Grail beneath her belt, obscuring it from view within the folds of her tunic.
Simon watched her dress. Memory flashed through his mind of a similarly dressed 'lad,' hair shorn and breasts bound. He released a soft sigh. That illusion no longer existed. There was only Brianna. Her feminine curves added shape and dimension to the otherwise shapeless tunic. Her wild hair spilled about her shoulders. And she looked every bit the warrior she had always hoped to be.
She was a warrior. She was a knight, in every sense of the word but one. And he had the power to change all that.
He drew his sword. "Kneel before me, Brianna."
Surprise wreathed her face as she dropped to one knee. "Simon?"
"As a knight, I may knight men, and women," he clarified, "on the battlefield when they show great bravery. You have already proven to me that you are brave and strong and worthy of the title." He drew his sword and brought the flat of the blade against her left shoulder. "Brianna Sinclair, do you promise to speak only the truth, to never avoid a dangerous path out of fear, to defend the weak, and protect those who have need?"
"I do," she said, her voice raw with emotion.
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