Page 35 of Kilty as Sin
That was the last thing she saw as the world went black and she slipped into oblivion.
Chapter 7
The Conventof St. Dorcas the Ever-Petulant sat on an island off the coast of a loch and brought back some uncomfortable memories for Barclay. Before her death, his mother had once considered taking holy vows, before deciding to throw herself on the mercy of her laird—and former lover.
Barclay had always regretted that the nuns had allowed them to leave in the dead of winter.
Later, he’d spent an instructive sennight in a nunnery in the company of an absolutely delightful double-jointed usury expert, while he collected evidence against her and her tax-evasion scheme.
Butthisconvent was…different.
For one thing, the position of Mother Superior used to be passed among the nuns, until one wrested control from the others. At least, that’s what the cheerful nun was explaining as she led him toward her solar at one end of the convent.
“To tell ye the truth, I doubt they minded,” she was saying over her shoulder. “’Tis a pain in all of our arses, all this paperwork, and they decided I was likely the best one for the position, anyhow.”
Barclay nodded numbly, a bit dazed by the nun’s firm greeting. She had a handshake any man would envy, and had almost knocked him unconscious when she’d pulled him in for a hug. Even now, he was doing his best to avert his gaze from her chest. The woman had tits you could serve dinner from!
“We’re no’ formal around here,” she announced as she ushered him inside. “Ye can call me Sister Mary Titania. Back in the world, my name was Titania of Clan McGee, but dinnae think ye’re clever calling me Tits McGee, I’ve heard it afore.”
Barclay, his gaze firmly locked on the high window behind her desk, made a noise he hoped sounded like respectful agreement.
Of course, he still wore his helm, so there was no way she’d be able to follow his gaze, but ‘twas theprincipalof the thing. She didn’t deserve his ogling. No matter the size of her—
“So, ye said Grace sent ye?” The nun settled behind her desk. “Please, sit down. We’ve been worried sick over her, since she disappeared from here last week.”
Well, he supposed he could set her mind at ease about that, at least.
Blowing out a breath, Barclay sat, taking a moment to arrange his sword out of the way of the stool, and gathering his thoughts.
Three days ago, he’d ridden away from Grace, hardening his heart against the hurt and betrayal in her eyes. She’d asked this of him, and he knew this, at least, was something he could do for her.
St. Pancras’s uvula!Would that he could save her from itall.
The only thing which had kept him sane during the last three days as he left her behind, was the knowledge her father wouldn’t actuallyhurther. She wouldn’t be the first woman married to a man her father had chosen, and he had to trust the man wanted what was best for her.
Grace swore to escape.
Aye, and if the King sent him after her again, he’d decline the mission. She might appear delicate and innocent, but he knew exactly how strong and capable she was. If she said she was going to escape and make her way here to this convent, he had to believe her.
“Sir Hunter?” prompted Sister Mary Titania.
He swallowed. “Aye, my apologies,” he managed, then took another deep breath. “Lady Grace’s father sent men out looking for her. As I understand it, a group of them saw her in the village when she went to market. She decided to run instead of leading them back here.”
The nun was nodding. “She’s a sweet lass, but has a temper.”
Aye, she does. Barclay felt his lips curling beneath the helmet.
“She gave them a good run, but they caught up with her eventually. The men…” He hesitated, uncertain how to spare the sensibilities of the nun.
But Sister Mary Titania folded her hands on the desk before her. “I may wear a habit now, Sir Hunter, but I came to holy vows late in life.” Her expression was solemn. “I am no stranger to what passes between a man and a woman, nor—unfortunately—what men can do when a woman is unwilling.”
Grateful, Barclay nodded once, firmly. “Aye, well, she was doing a grand job of defending herself. When she ran, I swooped down and ensured the men wouldnae follow her again. Then I went and pulled her from the bog she’d managed to fall into.”
The nun’s plump face pulled into a smile, which seemed far more natural to her than the grimness of earlier. “I’ll wager she hated that!”
“We had…some words.”
She chuckled. “And I’m supposing that’s putting it mildly. After ye rescued her, ye dinnae bring her back here, as she would’ve demanded. I have to wonder why no’?”
