Page 2 of Kilty Plea
Either way, ye cannae fook ‘em, is the point.
They wouldn’t want him, anyway.
“But still, brother…” the Abbot said slyly, “I can see ye have yer eye on one in particular. She shall be yers.”
Payton didn’t want her—didn’t want to spend any more time among these people’s company than he had to. But when the Abbot raised his hand to gesture to the wench, he knew he had no choice but to maintain politeness until he could slip away.
Soon he’d be home on MacIntyre land and all this would be behind him.
Soon.
Chapter 1
Flora MacGregor didher best to keep from meeting anyone’s eyes.
Especially the men’s.
Andespeciallythe Abbot’s.
Wincing, she hunched again as she murmured her offer of ale to one of the half-drunk Faithful. The man took it without looking at who was doing the offering, thank the Lord.
Since earning the Abbot’s harsh words—and harsher lashes—two days ago after her attempted escape, no one wanted to be seen interacting with her, and that was fine by Flora.
She just had to survive.
Survive, for wee Lenny.
Soon, she often whispered to herself.
Butsoonhad turned into months, and now her feet burned from the cold, and the harsh wool of the sackcloth-dress she’d been forced to wear scraped at the scabs forming over the welts on her back.
Soonwas starting to feel likeeternity.
Son of a biscuit!
Mayhap if she could keep her chin down and cease from riling the Abbot’s ire—cease from gaining his attention, in fact—she might survive ‘til the spring. Then she could escape and find Lenny, and they’d run as far and as fast from the Abbey of the People as they could.
Soon.
A hand smacked against her rear end and Flora gasped and whirled on the man who’d done it. Thank the good Lord he was too far in his cups to notice her insolence, or she’d likely have to bleed again afore the night was through—to show her repentance.
The man who’d hit her…he hadn’t been one of the ones to join the Abbot inteaching her a lass’s placewhen she’d first arrived. If he had been, she doubted she would’ve been able to hold onto her temper long enough to drop her gaze to the ground again.
Where it belonged, according to the Abbot.
Flora blew out a breath.
Easy, lass.
All she had to do was make it through the next few hours. Then she could crawl onto her pallet in the unmarried women’s dormitory and try to shut her ears to the sounds of the men “claiming” their rights and pray tonight wouldn’t be her night.
The Abbot preached that women should be unsullied when they went to their marriage beds, but apparently when ‘twashischosen men doing the sullying, it didn’t count.
She frowned and sent a silent prayer to heaven that there was too much ale flowing tonight to have to worry about such things.
“Flora!”
At the sound ofhisvoice, Flora’s gaze jerked upward, unbidden.
