Page 59 of The Scottish Bride
“How?”
“Marry the girl.” His uncle scratched the dog’s ears, while Roc looked blissful.
“Marry!” The word jolted him to the heart. Even as he began to protest, a thought struck him. Married, Tamsin would be free of Comyn’s plans; married, Liam might gain Dalrinnie through her. And married, she would be his, in his arms. He pulled in a breath.
“Do this,” his uncle said, “and end the chase.”
“The lady would never agree, sir. She does not trust me. Once she learns that Dalrinnie was mine, she will loathe me. I would seem no different than Comyn.”
“A husband who would keep her safe amid this madness would solve her troubles. You will do that. Malise will not. And you could do with a wife.”
Liam sighed, unsure of that. “At the least, she would not be forced to marry Comyn. It would be to her benefit.”
“And yours. Do you agree out of chivalry, or because you see a good match, as I do?” His uncle regarded him. “Or is it vengeance against Malise?”
“All of that, sir,” he admitted.
“Ah, here she is,” the abbot said, looking up. “Thank you, Gideon. You may go.”
The abbot stoodout of courtesy, but Tamsin lifted a hand to dissuade him, seeing how weak the old man seemed, thinner and more feeble than when she saw him last. Beside him, Liam steadied his uncle’s arm to help him sit again. Even Roc loped to his feet as if to help.
“Lady Thomasina, it is good to see you. I trust you have rested well while here.”
“Aye, Reverend Father. Thank you for your hospitality and sanctuary. It was much needed, I am sorry to say.” She avoided Liam’s glance, unsure what to think, how she felt—or how he felt about her after their encounter in the cottage, visions, and kisses, and then her uncertainty about his motives. “Thank you for seeing me.”
“Of course. My nephews told me why they brought you here. I understand your difficulty and I would like to help. Liam, some heather ale for the lady and yourself. And I would not mind some too.”
As Liam obliged, pouring ale from a jug into small wooden cups, Tamsin glanced around the abbot’s house. She had never been inside despite meeting him on earlier visits. The house had a humble simplicity, with whitewashed stone walls and a raftered, thatched roof overhead. But it was larger than her cottage, with a spacious, plainly furnished room where they gathered now, and a second chamber beyond a curtained door. Glancing around, she saw a few small windows studded withleaded circles of thick glass, shedding cool light on a few chairs, a bench, table, shelves—and books.
Volumes were stacked beside the abbot’s chair and on a shelf; some were piled on the table, along with loose parchments, inkpots, quills, and a reading stand. The room was not entirely tidy, and Tamsin smiled to see the cozy environment of a man who loved books and learning and comfort. She liked him even more seeing the comfortable jumble of his home. It spoke to her of the man.
“Sit down, Lady Thomasina,” the abbot said. Liam handed her a cup of ale and then opened a wooden folding stool for her. Rather than sit, he returned to his uncle’s side and caught her eye. His quick frown seemed threaded with tension, his eyes a cloudy gray blue. His mood was somber, she realized, wondering what was behind it.
“I wanted to see both of you. I have prayed over your situation, my lady, and I have some thoughts. At first it seemed best to send you to Lincluden, but my nephews insist you will be safer in the forest for now.”
“I appreciate it, Reverend Father. Though I must go to Selkirk to attend to a matter, and then go on to Kincraig, where my family lives. The route might go through the forest, but I did not think to stay.”
“We can discuss that. You were a brave lass to do what you did.”
“Brave or foolish, I am not certain which.”
“I believe heaven guided you here. I have prayed on your dilemma, and a suggestion has come to me that might help.”
“Aye?” Grateful for his attention but puzzled, she glanced at Liam. He stood with arms crossed, head tilted, subdued and expectant. She felt sure something had been decided before she arrived.
“I am acquainted with Sir Malise Comyn,” the abbot was saying, “and I know what it is to deal with King Edward. Neither will rest until they get their way. But you cannot continue to keep just a few steps ahead of this. Comyn is intent on finding you. Would you like my advice?”
“Of course, sir,” Tamsin said. Liam was silent.
“You must make sure that Sir Malise does not get what he wants. He will damage and destroy whatever he gains.”
“He wants what belonged to the Rhymer,” she said. “And he wants Dalrinnie.”
“And you,” the abbot said.
“So it seems. But I do not know what to do.” She avoided Liam’s steady gaze.
“Then it is time for honest talk. Will your errand in Selkirk help the situation?”
