Page 10 of Kilty Plea
”Flora,” she corrected unhelpfully.
“Look,Flora, I dinnae ken what kind of bullshite the Abbot fed ye, but we’reno’married. A bowl of milk isno’a wedding ceremony.”
“Och, I ken that,” she said dismissively, flapping a hand about. “But the Abbot believes—actually…” She frowned and tapped her lower lip as she stared at where his left ear used to be. “Actually, I doubt he even actually believes it. But hisfollowersdo, and that’s how he stays in power.”
“Bygiftingwives to me? As if ye’re a loaf of bread?” Payton’s voice rose in his disbelief. “Or a horse?”
Flora snorted and pulled the cloak tighter around herself. “Dingleberries, the Abbot would likely prefer a horse. No’ as willful as I am,” she muttered.
Christ. What was he supposed to do now?
She belonged at the Abbey…didn’t she?
Payton realized his fingers were digging into her shoulders, as if he didn’t want to let her go.
“And…” His voice was hoarse. “If ye return?”
“I told ye.” She sniffed once, her gaze back on his ear. Or mayhap the tree behind him. Or naught at all. “I’ll be of nae use, because all of his followers will see me as sullied.”
Fook fook fook.
“So, Ihaveto take ye with me?”
Was it his imagination, or was there a flash of hurt in her eyes before she ducked her chin? “If ye dinnae want a wife—”
“I dinnaehavea wife, Flora!” he burst out. “I have an unwanted, half-frozenrewardthrust upon me, with a side helping of guilt, and ye dinnae—” He shifted her out of the way long enough to glance at her feet. “Aye, yestilldinnae even haveshoes!”
Her shoulders hunched, and she sniffed again. “He took them from me when I was brought to the Abbey,” she said in a small voice. “Because I had to learn obedience.”
Payton struggled to control his breathing. “Aye? And when was that?”
“In the early spring. Afore the thaw.”
Nine months or more?Jesu Christo, ‘twas a miracle she hadn’t lost her toes. Payton blew out a breath. “So…ye couldnae evenfakeobedience?”
Mayhap ‘twas the hint of teasing in his voice which convinced her to peek up at him. “I can fake many things, Sir Hunter.”
Beneath the helm, his nose wrinkled in disapproval. He hated the thought of what else she’dfaked. What she’dhadto fake.
That smile?
What in St. Bart’s name was going on here? Two days ago, all he had to dread was the thought of his family’s ambush when he returned home, and how to avoid them until he could return to the King’s side.
Now? Now he had a wife—
Nay ye dinnae.
Right. He had to remember that. They both drank some milk; there was naught aboutthatin the Church’s wedding ceremony!
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, so low he might’ve missed it.
“What?” His fingers tightened on her shoulders again, causing her to wince and him to sigh. “Sorry.”
“Nay, I’m sorry.” Flora lifted her gaze to his, which was remarkable, knowing she couldn’t actuallyseehis eyes. “I’m sorry ye’re stuck with me.Fragglerock, I didnae want it either—”
“Because I’m…” He trailed off, realizing she couldn’t see his scar, didn’t know how flawed he was. “Because I’m a Hunter?” he finished.
But her mouth had dropped open. “Ye are brave and honorable and strong, and ye seem a good man. Any of the women in the unmarried dormitory would begratefulto have been given to ye. But I…” She shook her head slightly. “I didnae want to be given. Until I realized where…”
