Page 56 of The Scottish Bride
“Not by choice,” the man growled. “Very well. Since you know naught, we will move on. But you say you have king’s orders? Who is the message meant for?”
“A private matter, confidential to the king.” Liam reached into his surcoat to withdraw the king’s order, letting the royal seal and ribbons flap before he put it back.
“Fine. Go on. Though we may stop at Holyoak in case the lady is there.”
“Only one woman is there. And she is mine,” Liam said. “Look elsewhere for your runaway. Most likely she headed north, not south, to avoid the king’s troops.”
“Possibly. Good night, sir.” Siward gave a curt nod and turned to ride toward the men who waited on the misted ridge.
Liam turned to his kinsmen. “Get back to the abbey and secure the gates. I will watch to be sure they are gone.” He rode slowly toward the hill as Comyn’s men moved down the opposite slope. Waiting in shadows, he watched them depart.
Seeing the gathering clouds darken with more rain, he could not shake a growing sense of unease as he turned toward theabbey. Again he thought of Lady Tamsin’s vision. He would be wise to heed it.
Shivering despite hercloak, Tamsin knelt on the stone floor of the chapel, hands pressed in prayer. A thin draft whispered past. Not long ago, hearing the vesper bells while in the library, she had seen a line of monks departing the chapel after their prayers. Troubled by the unknowns ahead of her—and still haunted by sultry kisses whose comfort she craved but was reluctant to admit—she walked to the empty chapel hoping for elusive serenity. Overhead, the sky was dusky and dreary. She glanced around, realizing she had not seen Liam Seton all day.
Whispering her prayers now, trying to focus, her thoughts veered again toward the man who stirred such longing and confusion in her. If Liam was following Edward’s orders, she must be cautious.
Yet where he was concerned, she could not trust herself to tell good intent from bad, truth from lies, a genuine kiss from a false one. She sighed.
Behind her, the chapel door creaked open and shut and a dark hooded figure moved through candlelight. Brother Gideon knelt on the straw-scattered stone floor, crossed himself, and bent his head to his hands.
Tamsin turned away, running her fingers over the smooth paternoster beads in her hands. The wood and ivory prayer strand that she kept in the small pouch at her belt had belonged to her mother, its beads blessedly familiar as she soothed over them in silent plea.Help me know when to speak and when to keep silent,she prayed.Help me to protect the Rhymer’s work and find my sisters and brother.
And please,she added fervently,help me to forget William Seton. And if I cannot, help me to understand who he is—and why he is so much on my mind.
Standing, she turned to go, passing the monk wrapped in his prayers. Dabbing her fingers in the shallow basin of holy water, she reached for the iron door latch.
“Allow me,” Gideon murmured just behind her as he pulled the door open to allow her to precede him into the iron-gray twilight.
Drawing her cloak close, Tamsin paused. “Brother Gideon, please, a favor.” Just that, though she wanted to ask about the Setons of Dalrinnie. More, she wanted desperately to confide her vision and warn him.
“What can I do for you?” A tall shadow under the black hood, he reminded her of his older brother again in appearance, and in that air of deep reserve that spoke of secrets, patience, and the habit of listening to troubles without sharing his own.
She reached into the pocket of her cloak for the folded letter. “I want this to reach my brother, Sir Henry Keith of Kincraig. But I am not sure where he is.”
Gideon took the letter. “We can find a messenger for you. Where was he last?”
“Perhaps in Lanercost Abbey, where they say Edward is recovering from illness.”
“Messengers come here regularly for Abbot Murdoch, and one may be here in the next few days. If your brother is there with the king, a messenger can try to find him.”
“Thank you. And—if you please, I need to travel to Selkirk soon. Could I borrow a horse or cart in the morning?”
He shook his head. “That is unwise for a lady alone, and well you know it. The abbot would not approve it. I believe my brother intends to take you, but if he cannot, I could do so. Let us wait.” Cool gray light edged his features as he looked down at her.
Nodding, disappointed, she took a chance. She trusted Gideon, who had been her friend for over two years. “Do you remember that I met a bookseller here at the abbey?”
“The fellow in Selkirk? Ah,” he breathed. “You gave him a sheaf of parchments. Those were the Rhymer’s pages, and not your own writings?”
“Aye.” She wondered if his brother had told him what the king wanted. “That is why I need to get there. I need to get away from—your brother.”
“He is no threat to you. We all want you to be safe. I know about Sir Malise and the book. And the marriage, my lady.”
She nodded. “So he told you. I am sorry to bring my troubles here.”
“My lady,” he murmured, “we are invested in the troubles here at Holyoak.”
“Do you mean the hospital?” She glanced toward the darkened building with the separate entrance, a separate world, in its way.
