Page 50 of Kilty Plea
He hummed slightly, and placed his fingertips against her cheek, turning her gaze toward him.
“Tell me, Flora,” he commanded. “Make me understand.”
Fudge buckets.
She took a deep breath.
* * *
‘Twas amazinghow Payton could go from utterly sated to absolute dread in such a short amount of time.
Making love to Flora had been the most magnificent experience of his life, but now he couldfeel—taste, see—her terror, and the pleasure of the last minutes ebbed away. It had been replaced by a very visceral need to learn what had her so scared…and destroy it.
“Tell me, Flora. Make me understand.”Please.
“The Abbot…” She was looking at Payton, but he could tell she wasn’t reallyseeing. “He’s no’ a good man. No’ a holy man. At all.”
Payton snorted. “Aye, I could’ve guessed. There are charlatans who take advantage of the weak-minded, is that what ye mean? Ye’re no’ weak, Flora, to have been taken in by his lies. Did he promise ye a better life at the Abbey? Is that why ye went there after the attack on yer home?”
She shuddered, and he hated her fear.
“’Tis aright, love,” he murmured, gathering her into his lap and tucking her under his chin. “He has nae power here.”
“Ye’re wrong,” she whispered.
“About what?”
She didn’t answer for a long moment, then—so quietly he barely heard it—breathed, “All of it.”
Payton’s first instinct was to deny it. He’d spent most of his life in the King’s service, tracking down and punishing evil men, and thought he understood what he was doing. But what kind of man would he be if he didn’t listen to the words—the evidence—of those who had actually lived the experience?
“Tell me,” he coaxed again.
When she pushed out of his lap, then entirely off the bed, he felt a little bereft. But she began to pace, pulling her hair over one shoulder and plaiting it, and he realized how uncomfortable she was.
He did his best not to notice hownakedshe also was.
“The Abbot rules his people by giving them hope and beatitudes, telling them to work together and share all property. The people who join him willingly…they do it for the reasons ye said; they need those things in their lives, and he makes them feel good about themselves.”
She’d stopped in front of the fire, and was now staring into it, her braid hanging half complete, and her arms wrapped around her middle.
“But no’ all of us chose to join him.”
Payton swung his legs over the side of the bed. “What do ye mean?”
“After the bandits attacked my family’s croft, and killed my father, and knocked my brother senseless…” She shivered and trailed off.
He stood, but wasn’t certain if he should take her in his arms. His heart ached for her, but he couldn’t help her say the words.
Flora shivered, then suddenly darted away from the fire, reaching for her discarded chemise. In a flurry of movement, she pulled the soft linen over her head, and shivered again as it settled around her. She looked positively adorable, standing in her bare feet, with the chemise hanging over one shoulder…but she seemed so lost that he wanted to hug her.
“Come here,” he muttered, holding out the tartan blanket from the bed. “Wrap yerself in this.”
She stepped near, and he focused on draping it around her shoulders, like the cloak he’d once given her. The fussing helped distract him from the tear tracks on her cheeks.
Fook. From ecstasy to tears in ten minutes.
Flora didn’t step back, but tipped her head to meet his gaze.
