Page 26 of The Highlander's Virgin Nun
Conall always adored gatherings like this, thriving when surrounded by their clansfolk. He would run into the crowds at a young age when their clan held festivals like this one, and would not return until the night was over, immersing himself completely.
“Are ye far apart in age?”
“He is nine years older than me. We got along well as children.”
“But nae as adults?”
There was her chance to tell him more of her story. But Rosaline was not sure whether to do it or not. She did not want it to be used against her. He could decide that anything would be better than the Abbey and subject her to a similar cruelty.
But Caelan had already seen her desperation to escape. He had seen her malnourished body and how she had fled with no earthly possessions whatsoever. He knew more than she had revealed, so he might as well know the whole truth.
“He was the one who sent me to the convent,” she admitted.
Now done with their soup, Caelan took her bowl and listened as she spoke, both facing the flames of the bonfire.
“Me faither died when I was seven, and chaos broke out at the castle. I was too young to remember why, but violence was everywhere. Conall sent me away for me own safety; he thought I would be protected at the Abbey. Who could have kenned that holy women could be such demons? I sent him letter after letter askin’ him to come and get me, that anywhere would be better than there, but he never replied, and I havenae seen him since.”
“I’m sorry, lass. That’s terrible.”
“I’m sure he has his reasons. Maybe things werenae better where he could have taken me back. I havenae lost faith in him yet.”
Rosaline stared into the flames, feeling more vulnerable than ever after finally voicing her trauma. Her heart raced, and tears threatened to spill over her eyelids, but she held her breath until they sank back down. She would not let it defeat her.
CHAPTERTWELVE
Caelan finally dared to gaze away from the fire and towards the woman beside him. He saw that her chest was raised and her shoulders pulled back in a bid to maintain her composure. He could hear in her voice that it had been a hard life to live, and hard again to tell her story. Being the first person she had met on her escape from the convent, he realized he was likely the first person she had told it to.
“I’m sorry, lass. That sounds very difficult, indeed.”
She lifted a finger to her eye, pretending to scratch rather than wipe away a tear that might have spilled over, and sat up taller.
“It made me stronger. I got out,” she declared resolutely.
He got the feeling that the words were more for her than for him.
Caelan could feel his resolve faltering. He was not supposed to get to know this woman or to get close to her in any way, but he had a heart. She had let herself be vulnerable around him, and he did not want her to feel any more hurt than she already did.
And so to make sure that she did not at least feel alone, and because he felt she would be interested to hear about his experience, he decided to share with her too.
“I ken what it’s like to miss someone and be mad at them. Even when ye ken it’s nae their fault.”
Her body relaxed as he took over, and she cast a glance at him with a tilt of her head. He felt she was grateful for the chance to listen, so he went on.
“Me faither died ten years ago. And me maither when she had Alexandra. Most people would have been glad to be left a Lairdship, but nae me. It was a curse.”
“What do ye mean?” Rosaline asked.
He was grateful for her engagement, but it made him nervous, too.
“It has been a curse, a constant threat, a death sentence. I didnae even get to mourn me faither’s death before assassins showed up at the cemetery and tried to kill me. Then the month after, while I was settlin’ deeds at the courthouse. Ever since, I have had to face attack after attack.”
“And this is because of yer Lairdship?”
“It’s what makes sense. I am an heirless laird, and they want a piece of it for themselves. If they kill me, Clan Sinclair could be anyone’s.”
“I see,” Rosaline murmured, starting to understand him and his ways more clearly. “That’s… complicated.”
“Aye.”
