The Highlander's Honorable Savior (Iron Of The Highlands Series) Page 8

  He stepped back, eyes wide, breath catching as he tried to speak. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have done that. Forgive me, lass?”

  Bonnie looked up at him, confusion returning to her. On the one hand, her body felt like it had been lit up from inside, every part of her aching for him. On the other, she felt her stomach twist with the unpleasant certainty that he had followed her for one thing alone.

  That’s what he wants from me. When he’s had it, he’ll be as cruel as everyone always is.

  She looked at the grass, feeling cold towards him. He was no better than anybody else. He wasn’t going to care for her for nothing.

  “I reckon the monks must have a kitchen somewhere,” she said. Her voice sounded forced, unlike her own usually did. She saw him give her a searching look, and she looked away quickly before she could say anything or betray herself with a look.

  Best if he thinks he’s gulling you. Then you can wait until you’ve found your own way out and slip away, safe and swift.

  Bonnie headed towards the building she guessed would be the kitchen. “Come,” she called over her shoulder. “We should hurry.”

  “Bonnie?” Arthur called her. “Lass? What is it?”

  “The sooner we find breakfast, the sooner we will be able to leave this place. If,” she added, turning to look up at him inquiringly. “You’re ready to travel?” The sooner she could part with him, the better.

  “Of course I am, lass,” he said, nodding. “It’s only a scratch. The monks stitched it for me but…it’ll mend.” He frowned at her. Bonnie realized her face had fallen with remorse. He really was badly wounded! She looked into his eyes. His expression seemed so frank and open, but she simply wasn’t sure. Was she just fooling herself?

  All the same, she decided, if she treated him without compassion, was she really much better than he was?

  “We’ll stay until you’re better,” she said firmly.

  “No, lass…you’re right. Those soldiers will be searching high and low. The sooner we leave this place, the safer we’re likely to be.”

  Bonnie nodded, but she wasn’t really listening. She was much more interested in what she’d just caught the scent of. Bread, steaming hot.

  With her mouth wet with saliva, Bonnie headed swiftly to the kitchens. In a long, sparse room, well-lit and spotless, she found herself face-to-face with a monk. His eyes stretched wide as flagons, his pale face white.

  “No!” he said, sounding horrified. “I mean…no women are allowed in here. Please, my daughter…it’s best if you…” He was shooing her with his hands towards the rear door of the kitchen. At that moment, Bonnie heard a step on the flagstones behind her.

  “We’re staying here under the invitation of the prior,” a male voice said firmly. Bonnie looked up into Arthur’s face. He was standing behind her, halting her stumbling progress through the door. “I think he would be sad to hear that his guests went hungry this morning?”

  “Oh! Of course! Yes.” The monk looked relieved. “Brother Lucas, if you could fetch water for our guests? I’ll find you some bread. Brother Pious,” he said, indicating himself by way of introduction. “I run the bakeries here.”

  Bonnie looked at Brother Pious, giving him an inquiring stare. With his pale face, black hair and serious mien, he seemed to fit his name. His shock had been very funny, but she could forgive him his reaction as, grinning, he turned to them with a plate of sliced bread.

  “I reckon you must have thought imps from Hell were invading,” he said, giving them both a big smile. “I’m sorry for my troublesome welcome…It’s just, well, women aren’t allowed past the entrance. Not except in extenuating circumstances,” he added carefully.

  “Well, I reckon this is an…extenuating circumstance,” Arthur replied.

  “Quite so,” the monk said firmly. He looked over Bonnie’s head, staring fixedly out of the window.

  Bonnie looked at the table. Next to her, she felt Arthur’s leg twitch. She knew that Arthur was about to laugh and she had to suppress the same urge to burst into a fit of giggles. The look on the man’s face when she came in had been very funny.

  “Brother?” a voice yelled from the hallway. “Brother Pious? Where the in the name of…never mind. Where are you?”

  Bonnie and Arthur looked up as a man came through the door. He was dressed shabbily in a brown tunic and trousers, a cloth hat on to keep out the worst of the chill. Bonnie thought he looked somewhat familiar.

  “Hello,” Arthur hailed the man. “You had a good trip?”

  The man blinked at him as if he’d spoken a foreign language. Bonnie recognized him as the carter who had brought them the night before. She glanced at Arthur. Her own mistrust filled her again as she saw him eyeing them with a probing stare. The carter, she thought, knew where they had come from. How likely was it that he’d had contact with the soldiers who pursued them? She felt her stomach twist with nerves as he nodded with recognition.

  “Hello,” he said after a moment. “You two faring well, eh?”

  “Well indeed,” Arthur said, gripping his hand. The carter chuckled and clapped him on the back.

  “Well! If this doesn’t beat rooster fighting. Excuse me, brother,” he added, grinning over to where Brother Pious sat. The poor monk had gone even paler, were that possible, and now he blended into the woolen whiteness of his robes. Bonnie tried not to chuckle, but it was hard. The carter’s interaction with the monk was rather funny.

  “Mr. Miller,” the stern-faced brother said thinly. “You were meant to deliver the fleeces from downriver. Have you?”

  “Right as rain, brother,” the carter grinned. “All stacked up snug and safe in the barn, just like you asked me to. No chance of moths, nor outlaws nor nothing else getting them in there.” He winked at the man, who looked at his feet.

  The mention of wool made Bonnie sit up straighter. Her village had been in an area where wool was farmed. If the carter had been transporting wool, it seemed likely that he could take her somewhere in the vicinity of her hometown.

  “Mr. Miller?” Bonnie inquired. “How about, when you return to wherever you found the wool, you take us back with you?”

  She felt Arthur’s eyes on her and her face flushed proudly, knowing that he was impressed with her courage. She glowed as he smiled at her.

  Mr. Miller was smiling too. His grin made her feel somewhat less pleasant, and she looked away.

  “By, lassie!” he nodded. “I’d be pleased to take a pretty piece like you back to your hometown.”

  “I’ll be coming too,” Arthur said. His voice was like marble. Bonnie felt her heart leap and she smiled at him thankfully. He nodded to her, and she could see the anger in his eyes.

  Bonnie felt a strange feeling fill her chest, spreading and growing there. He had leaped to her defense and nobody in her whole life had ever done that before. She blinked, tears welling up. Her vision blurred and she blinked again to clear it.

  Brother Pious stood up from the table. “My son,” he said to the carter. “I thank you for your help. If you go to Brother Lucas, he will ensure you are well remunerated. Now, I am afraid I will have to start preparing the luncheon, which, as you know, is a sacred duty.” His black eyes raked across all of them and Bonnie felt herself stand and push in her chair. They were clearly unwelcome in here.

  Bonnie felt Arthur stand up and she was acutely aware of him walking behind her as she went outside to the garden. When she reached the lawns, she stopped as his hand closed around her arm.

  “Bonnie?” Arthur murmured, turning so that he stood before her. “Is this wise?” His eyes searched her face. “For all we know, Miller will sell us to the soldiers. And I don’t like the way…”

  “Whist,” Bonnie gently silenced him, amazed at her own daring. She had never spoken like that to a man before. “Arthur, he has no reason to want to harm us.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Arthur said grimly. “When I saw him looking at you like that, I…”

&
nbsp; “Arthur, I’m not a fresh cheese, that you have to keep an eye on me lest somebody steals me!” Bonnie snapped. She didn’t know why, but, as much as his protective gesture had touched her, his attitude of ownership also bothered her. Whatever people had done to her in her life, nobody had ever sought to own her!

  She felt his fingers tense on her arm and froze.

  I’ve gone too far. Now he’s going to belt me around the head or knock my teeth out.

  She knew how men reacted when you spoke back to them like that. She tried to twist out of his grasp and run, but she knew that it was futile. He was too big and she would never be able to best him. She let her head fall forward, waiting for the blow to stun her.

  “Och, lass,” he sighed. She looked up into his gaze. His eyes were soft and he was smiling. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “You’re no fresh cheese. You’re a free soul, and you can do whatever you wish to.”

  Bonnie stared at him. His words were more effective in paralyzing her than a blow might have been. She played them through in her head, trying to find the twist in them, the part where he rebuked her for talking back to him. She couldn’t find it.

  “We should find Miller,” she said. “He’ll likely be discussing his journey with the monks.”

  Arthur said nothing for a long while. They looked at each other. The air seemed tense between them.

  After a moment, Arthur cleared his throat. “You’re right, lass,” he said. “If I am not wrong, that’s them there in the barn, haggling like two merchants at a market stand.”

  Bonnie grinned in spite of her confused emotions, and listened closely, finding that Arthur was right. There was a distinct sound of voices, low and firm, arguing in a shed nearby. She followed him across the lawns, her mind full of confused thoughts.

  He should have belted me. No other would have stayed his hand. What is it that he wants from me, that he’s treating me like this?

  If anything, Miller was at least understandable. He wanted to take from her, and he made no secret of it. Arthur’s odd manner was more perplexing. What was it that he wished to gain by treating her, Bonnie, like somebody of consequence?

  “There he is,” Arthur commented, turning to face her.

  She nodded. He looked as confused as she felt, and that added even more to her uncertainty. What was all of this about? She watched as his eyes brightened and he swallowed hard, turning away.

  “I’ll try to negotiate a ride on the cart. If I’ve understood him rightly, he’ll be wanting money for it.”

  “Reckon so,” Bonnie murmured. He turned away and went on ahead across the lawn. She stared at his strong back, his shoulders wide enough to fill the door of the barn in front of her. He was easily the most handsome man she had ever seen. His attention to her was bewildering. Why, she thought, was a man like him so nice to her, so deferential? She was ugly – everyone had told her that.

  You’re a real sight…no man would look twice at you, so you’ll have to stay with me, I suppose.

  That was what Mrs. Marlaw had said. In an instant, Bonnie was back in that fetid cottage, hearing the other children outside while she cleaned the fire grate. None of the other children were laughing either. They were all afraid of Mrs. Marlaw, even though she was the only one, she thought, who had such things said to her. Arthur stopped in front of her, breaking into her memories.

  They went into the darkened space in search of the carter.

  The transaction was brief and successful. Brother Pious organized the payment of the fare for Arthur and Bonnie, insisting that the monastery was glad to help them. Bonnie bit her lip, amused at the monk’s obvious eagerness to get them out of the priory and into the care of the carter.

  “Well,” Arthur said as they went into the garden again. “That was easy.”

  “Aye,” Bonnie agreed. They were both carrying sacks – the price Brother Pious had insisted on was that they go to the river to collect wild mushrooms. Bonnie suspected that he simply wished to get them out of his kitchen. “It was easy enough.”

  She sniffed at a mushroom, checking it for noxious scents. A poisonous mushroom could look almost exactly like an edible one, and even people who considered themselves learned could be fooled. She nodded with satisfaction, catching no bad smells from it, and dropped it into the bag.

  “You know,” Arthur said, as he picked mushrooms and eyed them carefully. “I couldn’t help wanting to laugh, just then, when you told that priest off like that.”

  “I did?” Bonnie felt her throat tighten with alarm. What had she done?

  “For certain!” Arthur was laughing again. “When he said he’d pay, but only if we did something in return, and you said, just like that, we’d be doing whatever was needed to leave…” He grinned. “I reckoned the fellow would fall down unconscious, so I did.” He shook his head, as if the memory was too good to be true.

  “I hope I gave no offense,” Bonnie murmured. In her mind, she imagined the holy brothers accusing them of heresy, or saying they were English spies, just to rid themselves of them.

  “Lass, nobody could have been offended by you,” he said. Again, his eyes were soft on her. Bonnie felt her heart thud and looked away, her cheeks burning.

  While they worked, she found herself casting covert glances over at him as he applied himself to the task.

  Arthur was working closer to the stream, his sleeves rolled up, showing wide bands of muscle on his arms. His wrists were thick and corded and she found herself feeling her heart thud.

  Bonnie filled her bag and looked up to find Arthur watching her. He grinned at her.

  “You know, lass,” he said gently. “There’s times when you make me think of my sister.”

  “You have a sister?” Bonnie looked at the ground under her hands, scanning it carefully. Her heart was pounding in her chest, palms damp, though she couldn’t have said exactly why.

  “Well, not a real sister, no,” Arthur explained genially. “She was the daughter of my aunt, and when her parents fell sick, she stayed with us. Not for long, mind…she went to stay with the fishmonger after that, wed to his son. But she had a twinkle in her eye, just like you.”

  Bonnie focused on the space where the stream lapped at the bank, not trusting herself to meet his stare. She felt hot, and her body was tight with feelings that she could barely understand, all of which made her want to press herself to him and kiss him slowly.

  When he said nothing, she started counting the mushrooms in her bag, and cleared her throat. “What happened to your family?” she asked. “Why are you here, now, not with them?”

  “They’re still alive,” Arthur said lightly. “At least, I reckon my Da’ is still alive. Hard-headed folk like him never die young – I’ve heard tell that they don’t.”

  Bonnie stared at him. She wasn’t sure whether he was teasing, so she wasn’t sure whether or not to laugh. It seemed such a serious subject, but for him it clearly wasn’t. When he caught her expression, he started to laugh.

  “What, lass?” he asked softly. “Did I shock you?”

  “Well, no,” she murmured. “Not exactly. I just…it seemed odd, to say something like that.”

  “My dad was a difficult sort, lass,” Arthur said quietly. “I know that he beat my mother, and that was why she ran off. Nobody knew where she was after that. I was five.” His face was still, a frown twisting his brow. Bonnie thought she had never seen him look so sad before and her heart twisted with pain for his sorrows.

  “I’m sorry,” Bonnie said. She was also fascinated, in spite of herself. Having had no family at all, she could barely imagine the world that Arthur described. His depiction of his father made her shiver. She could all too well understand his mother’s fears.

  “It was a long time ago, lass,” Arthur said lightly. His eyes were clear, though his face was tight. “I barely remember my mother. My Da’ I remember…I remember him beating me, and my brothers too.”

  Bonnie swallowed hard. This, she could understand too well. She
was no stranger to beatings. She sat back, letting her mind conjure up that home. She filled in the father, at least two brothers, and a sister who had twinkling eyes, but who had chosen, as Arthur clearly also had, not to stay there long.

  “How old were you?” she asked. “I mean…”

  “I left when I was fourteen,” Arthur said. His eyes met hers. She saw no anger there, only a tranquility that surprised her, mixed with sadness. “I reckoned I was enough of a man, then, to find my own way. Aberdeen was all about shipping, so it wasn’t hard to steal away on a ship. I was almost in France before I had a chance to think about my choice.” He started laughing.

  Bonnie giggled. “Is that true?”

  “It isn’t quite that bad, but almost, yes.” He grinned. “Ships can sail fast, especially with a springtime wind.”

  “You weren’t sorry, to be leaving?” Bonnie frowned. Despite the grim description, she, who had no family at all, couldn’t quite imagine anybody making the choice to leave it.

  Arthur’s gaze was empty as the wintry sky as it rested on her own. “Lass, when I saw my father beat a woman, I decided it was enough. I didn’t wish to stay a moment longer. I would either leave, or kill him myself.” His voice was cold.

  Bonnie nodded to herself. That view seemed odd to her, who had grown up in a world where the strong beat the weak and the weak victimized the helpless. However, hearing him say it so firmly, she knew that he felt it as true. She looked into her basket again, deciding that she had enough mushrooms for the day.

  “You must have learned fast, to stay on board,” Bonnie said, changing the subject when she looked up to find him staring at her. His eyes were inquiring and gentle and she felt a flush creep up her body to her cheeks, leaving a shiver of warmth behind it.

  “I learned quickly enough,” he said. He frowned. “And you?” he asked.

  “I have no past to speak of,” she said. Her voice was quick, the response instant, out without her having to think about it. Arthur nodded slowly, as if he understood.