Page 29 of The Story of his Highland Bride
Cowards, the lot of ye,Jackson seethed inwardly, unable to believe that no one had stood forward to defend their village healer. If anyone had attempted to do this to Old Joan, he knew the entire castle would have chased the accuser away with torches and blades.
“Tread carefully, My Laird,” Father Hepburn hissed, stepping closer to Jackson than was comfortable. “One wouldn’t want to think that ye were on the side of sinners.”
Undeterred, Jackson faced the wretch until they were almost brow to brow. “Daenae try and threaten me, Father. There’s nay sinnin’ been done here. And I mean what I say—if I hear of this happenin’ again in any village or town of mine, it’ll be ye that ends up bound to a stake.”
“It is my duty to cleanse this land of evil, My Laird,” the priest said coldly, as torchlight flickered in his dark eyes, flashing malevolence. “Ye ask me not to threaten ye, yet ye feel righteous enough to threaten me. I would offer ye a polite warning, My Laird—don’t try to stand between me and my duty. Don’t stand on the wrong side of the Lord above, or ye might find that my duty brings me closer to yer own door.”
Jackson narrowed his eyes. “And what do ye mean by that?”
“I hear there’s a lass at yer castle that isn’t exactly… ordinary.” The priest smiled with cruel glee. “Rumors abound, My Laird, and I don’t like what I’ve been hearin’.”
Jackson pushed his forehead down, butting it against the priest’s, while his hands balled into tight fists, his fingernails digging into his palms to prevent himself from striking a man of the cloth. “Is that what a priest is dutybound to do—listen to idle gossip?”
“There is often truth in gossip, My Laird.” Father Hepburn did not recoil from Jackson’s threatening proximity. “Perhaps, ye’ve been bewitched already, otherwise ye would remember that it should lie in the hands of the church to punish sinners, regardless of who rules them.”
Jackson dug his fingernails deeper into his flesh. “Threaten me or me castle or anyone within me castle again, Father, and I’ll kill ye where ye stand, even if it sends me straight to Hell.”
The priest seemed to falter at that, taking a step backward. He eyed Jackson as if he expected to see some deceit in the Laird’s words, but Jackson glared on, entirely serious.
With a grimace, Father Hepburn dipped his chin to his chest and swept his arm out, toward Jane and Lennox. “Do as ye please, but know that ye’ve stood in the way of the Lord’s work.”
“The heavens have nothin’ to do with this,” Jackson declared, shouting it loud so all of the villagers would hear, and know who they needed to pledge their fealty to. “The Lord wouldn’ae burn a lass who has dedicated her life to healin’ others, and if any of ye think otherwise, I’d urge ye to step forward and demand it.”
The crowd stood silent, bowing their heads in shame. Not a soul stepped forward, so perhaps they were not quite as cowardly as Jackson thought.
“Cut her down, Lennox,” he instructed, but the task had already been done.
Lennox scooped Jane up into his arms, and carried her down off the platform, wielding her all the way to his waiting horse, where he sat her up in the saddle and climbed up after her. Though it had not been part of Jackson’s plan, it appeared that Jane was returning to the castle with them, and considering what he had just done to protect Eloise—or put her in more danger—he could not blame his friend for taking decisive action.
Ye’d only burn her in secret,Jackson knew, scowling at the priest who, for now, seemed chastened.
“Whether or nae she returns to this village will be her decision, when she’s well enough to make it,” Jackson added, barking at the crowd. “And if she doesnae, let it be a lesson to all of ye that when ye see that somethin’ unjust is bein’ done, it’s up to each and every one of ye to make a stand!”
With that, he pulled himself up into Claymore’s saddle and turned toward home. But as they headed out of the village, he glanced back in time to see Father Hepburn’s mouth moving with silent words. A curse upon Jackson; he was sure of it, as he felt a chill run up his spine that had nothing to do with the snow falling all around them.
16
Unable to sleep with her mind racing, and her body tense after the unexpected interruption earlier, Eloise wasn’t sure what to do with herself. The snow kept falling, and the hours kept ticking by, but Jackson hadn’t come back to her. As far as she knew, he hadn’t come back at all.
Anxious and fed up with fruitlessly tossing and turning underneath the covers, she decided to make use of the fact that she wasn’t locked in anymore. Wrapping a couple of blankets around herself, she headed for the door, wondering if a sneaky trip to the kitchens might help her to eat away her nerves.
Opening the door, she nearly walked headfirst into Lorraine, who had her hand raised to knock. “I’m so sorry!” she yelped. “I didn’t see you there.”
“I thought ye might be itchin’ for some company, and Kaitlyn may or may nae have mentioned that she could hear ye wearin’ a trench in the floor,” Lorraine said, chuckling.
The old woman wore a cloak over a nightgown, looking like she’d come to deliver a clandestine message. Her tired eyes and the late hour revealed that she hadn’t been able to sleep either, confirming Eloise’s suspicions that Jackson hadn’t returned to the castle yet. In truth, she also suspected that Lorraine was the one who needed company.
“I don’t know my way around, so it’s lucky you came when you did,” Eloise told the kindly grandmother. “I was torn between sneaking to the kitchens to have a few of those delicious oatcakes I had for breakfast or finding something to read. I always have a book beside my bed, so I’ve been feeling pretty naked without one.”
Lorraine’s chuckle bubbled into a belly laugh. “Mercy me, ye’ve a wicked tongue on ye, and I couldn’ae be gladder of it! Everyone is too… careful, lately. Nay one wants to say anythin’ that Father Hepburn might burn them for, but ye daenae seem to care. It’s a breath of fresh air to me, Lass!”
“Sounds to me like this Father Hepburn is nothing but trouble,” Eloise whispered, nudging Lorraine playfully in the arm. “Kind of ironic that his name is ‘Hepburn,’ since he seems to want to Hep-burnanyone he can get his hands on. Don’t tell anyone I said that, though.”
Lorraine tapped her nose and winked. “Yer secret is safe with me. If I had me way, I’d pray to the Old Gods to get rid of him. They’d do it, too. They’re a mischievous lot.”
“You know them personally?” It seemed like a silly question, but after getting sucked through a ring of stones, Eloise no longer deemed anything stupid.
Lorraine tilted her head from left to right. “In a manner of speakin’, aye. I’ve called upon them before, ye see, but… when I say they’re mischievous, it’s nae always playful. Some of those Old Gods will give ye anythin’ ye ask for, but it’ll come at a price ye might nae want to pay.” She paused, her brow furrowing in something like pain. “Och, listen to me ramblin’ away. Why daenae we venture to the library so ye can find yerself a book, and we’ll have hot bramble tea brought to us. What do ye think?”
