Page 37 of Kilty as Sin
“I assumed that’s what he was carrying in his breadbasket?”
“Nay, I mean—” How to explain? “She kneed him in the most uncomfortable place.”
“Och, aye, ye should have said so. For me, the most uncomfortable place is the little nook behind the chimney in the kitchen. Supposedly it’s to keep food warm, but all I ken is that it’s verra difficult to get in there. And once ye’re in there, it’s damned impossible to clean.”
There was a twinkle in her eyes which made Barclay think she was poking fun at him.
Still, he cleared his throat. “The point is, I looked at Grace, and thought she looked so sweet and delicate and ladylike.” She’d been the epitome of everything he’d ever thought of asgentility. “But she continued to surprise me. She has a strength that rivals the bravest warrior’s, and bravery?” He snorted. “She’s remarkable.”
Sister Mary Titania was watching him thoughtfully. “She is, for certes.”
“I love her. I love her, and I cannae be with her.” He shook his head in disgust at his own pitifulness. “Ye ken why I’m here? Because she made me vow to tell ye what happened. I had to come here and tattle on myself, like an errant lad, that I deposited the woman I love back in the arms of another man.”
“Did ye?” the nun murmured.
“Her father has plans to marry her to another laird. Grace says he’s horrible, butsurelythat’s just nerves, aye? Her father wouldnae…”
He lifted his hand from the hilt of his sword to run through his hair…and forgot he was wearing the bloody helmet. His fingers cracked against the steel and he cursed himself.
“Ye care for her wellbeing?” the nun asked quietly. Intently.
“Aye, of course.” He dropped his elbows to his knees and leaned forward. “Of course,” he repeated more quietly. “And ‘tis better for her to live her life as the cherished wife of a laird than with a man like me.”
“Ye think ye cannae give her the life she deserves? Even kenning of her bravery and strength?”
He hung his head. “Aye,” he whispered. “What do I have to offer her but the intrigues of Court, and sitting in a rented room while she waits my return from a mission? ‘Tis nae place for a lady.”
“Ye can offer her safety. Security. Love.”
“But no’ comfort.”
When the nun’s palm slammed against the desk again, he jumped in surprise and lifted his gaze.
“Good Lord, man, ye’re maudlin. Being married to ye would be far better than married to the man her father chose!”
“How?” he demanded.
Sister Mary Titania’s eyes widened. “Did she truly no’ tell ye about him?”
“She told me he was a monster who’d murdered his first wives. But surely all women fear the marriage bed?”
“The marriage bed?” she snorted. “A knife across the throat, and a fall down the stairs from the tower? His wives dinnae die in the marriage bed. They died because they couldnae give him sons. And now he’s about to take another young wife.”
The nun glared at him, her expression simultaneously fierce and pitying.
But Barclay barely noticed. Behind the helm, his eyes opened wide as her words triggered memories.
Memories of her words, aye, but more than that. Memories of his mother’s stories. Of Highland rumors…
“Dear God,” he whispered.
“Aye!” She jumped to her feet and hustled around the desk. “Come along,” she announced as she grabbed his shoulders. “There’s still time.”
“What?” Barclay was confused, aye, but also lost in the past. Was it possible Grace was marrying the same bastard who’d ruined his life?
Now the nun was trying to lift him to his feet. “Ye can stop the wedding if ye leave now. Gracethinksshe’s strong enough to escape her father, but she’ll need yer help. Yemustget back there and—” She froze. “Unless Laird MacGill was already at the MacDonald holding? Say ‘tisnae so? If he was there, then it’s too late; they’re already married and likely consummated, puir Grace.”
Barclay had frozen, half off the stool.
