Page 9 of Kilty Plea
Flora’s head snapped up, and he realized her eyes were a lovely shade of greenish-brown, not the blue he’d guessed last night. And now they were full of panic.
“Of course I mean to come with ye!” she declared, tossing her braid over her shoulder and scrambling to her knees. “Ye cannae leave me!”
“Why no’?” he shrugged. “The Abbey is yer home, aye? The Abbot will likely worry when he wakes and finds ye missing.”
Now she was kneeling, the panic in her gaze creeping toward desperation. “Nay, he’ll expect it! If yedosend me back, I’ll no’ go!”
Payton shook his head, admitting he was lost, but trying to hold his temper. “’Twill cost me a few hours, but I can make them up tomorrow. I can turn around and escort ye back.”
“Nay!” Flora lunged for him, latching on to his forearm, and Payton was surprised by the warmth which shot up his arm. “Nay, please,” she finished in a whisper. “If ye do, he’ll kill me.”
He stared, dumbfounded.What?
Perhaps his expression asked the question because she swallowed and tightened her hold slightly.
“Please, Sir Hunter. Two months back, one of the lasses was returned by the man she was given to. I dinnae ken the reason, only that she was verra afraid of him. The Abbot…he called her sullied, and nae good to him.” Flora was shaking now. “She disappeared the next night, and the other women—they whispered he’d killed her himself.”
“Fook,” muttered Payton under his breath. He didn’t understand this, but he did understand her fear. “Come here.”
‘Twas awkward to pull her against him while he crouched, so he stood as he tugged, and ended with her tucked up under his chin, his arms around her back, holding her close. She was warm, aye, but still she shivered.
In fear.
He hated it.
They stood in silence, with him rubbing her back, for a long minute. Finally, he murmured, “Why would the Abbot kill yer friend?”
“She wasnae my friend. I had nae friends there—none of us did. ‘Twasnae allowed.”
That didn’t make sense. Why did she choose to live in such a strange, remote place, if she wasn’t allowed friends? ‘Twas clear Flora had no love for the Abbey of the People, or the founder.
He tried asking in another way. “Why would he kill her?”
Beneath his chin, she made a little snorting noise. “I told ye.” Her voice was muffled by the fur and by his chest, but he could still understand. “She wasnae any use to him. That’s why we were there—to be useful to him. To be given away. Once we’re sullied, we cannae be gifted to his friends or used to pay debts.”
Payton’s hand had stilled against her back, and now his fingers spread, as if he could keep her from harm. A terrible suspicion had lodged in his brain and now crept forward. “The Abbot…hegaveye away? As what?”
Aslave?
She bumped his chin when she tipped her head back to stare up into his eyes. “He didnae explain? The ceremony?”
Oh fook.
Payton’s heart was thundering in his chest. “What ceremony?”
The milk—the words…he had a terrible suspicion he wasn’t going to like what she said next.
“The Abbot gave me to ye, Sir Hunter,” she whispered, her hazel eyes skipping across the imposing features of his helmet. “I’m yer wife.”
Nay.
Nay.
The word had to be said or his head would likely explode.“Nay.”
She exhaled, a wry little twist of her lips. “I ken ‘tis no’ what ye’re used to—”
“WhatI’mused to?” He was shaking his head as he planted his hands on Flora’s shoulders and pushed her away far enough that he could lower his chin and glare at her. “Look, lass—”
