Entrusted to a Highlander: Highland Promise Trilogy Book Two

by Donna Fletcher

  “I’m to take your word for this when I don’t even know if this man is who you say he is?” Brynjar demanded.

  Abbott Thomas stood, his stern countenance having returned. “Do you accuse me, a man of God, of lying?’ He didn’t wait for a response. “But then what else is to be expected of a heathen.”

  Brynjar’s nose flared. “You’d do well to remember you speak to a heathen.”

  “So what you say then is that you do not care for the truth,” the Abbott said. “You want your way regardless of it.”

  Brynjar laughed. “Who would have thought a man of God could be so wise? Purity is my wife and this land belongs to me. I have signed documents.”

  “Let me see them,” the Abbott demanded.

  Brynjar stretched his hand out and with a snap pointed to the Abbott. One of the men behind him removed something tucked in the furs at his chest and took it to hand to the Abbott.

  The Abbott took a quick glance. “As I thought. This was written in your homeland and in your language. It holds no validity here. You need a document in the language of this land and you would have had to wed Purity here before a cleric for this to be sanctioned on this soil.” He looked to Galvin. “Did you not explain this to him, Galvin?”

  Brynjar turned a snarl on Galvin. “YOU LIED!”

  “I did not. I told you more documents would have to be signed once we arrived here. I had them waiting, all prepared,” Galvin insisted.

  “You lie!” Brynjar raised a fist and shook it at him. “I’ll see you pay for this,”

  Arran stood, his voice powerful as it rang out in the Great Hall. “Whether Galvin lied or not no longer matters. You will leave and return home and never show yourself on this soil again, for if you do—it will be your dead body your countrymen take home.”

  “YOU DARE THREATEN ME?” Brynjar roared.

  “It’s not a threat, it’s a promise,” Arran said, his glare filled with rage.

  Freen hurried into the room and didn’t wait to speak. “Wolf sends warriors.”

  The ramification of his remark caught everyone’s attention.

  “You’ve not heard the last of me.” Brynjar snarled, turned, and stomped out of the Great Hall.

  “See that he leaves, Freen,” Galvin ordered and Freen bobbed his head and hurried out.

  “Brynjar will not be made to look the fool,” Arran said. “He will not go peacefully.”

  “He is on foreign soil with few warriors. He can’t be foolish enough to think to attack,” Galvin said, worry evident in his wide eyes.

  “You’re right. He’s not foolish enough to think that. Though, he will not depart without at least leaving some suffering in his wake,” Arran advised.

  Galvin turned a worried expression on Arran. “Surely, the warriors Wolf sends will discourage him from that.”

  “Unless Brynjar can strike before they arrive,” Arran said.

  “How when he doesn’t have enough men?” Galvin asked.

  “Brynjar needs just one person he can make suffer horrendously and whose death would affect everyone to get some satisfaction,” Arran said.

  Purity grabbed her husband’s arm. “You will not leave my side.”

  “Of course,” the Abbott said with a knowing nod. “If he kills Arran, then he can demand the agreement he made with Galvin be honored.”

  “This is all nonsense,” Galvin claimed. “Our warriors guard us well and Wolf’s warriors camp outside the village with more of his warriors on the way. Brynjar is helpless to do anything.”

  “Brynjar has never been helpless. He will do whatever he has to, to see this matter done,” Arran said.

  “You make this man out to be far wiser than he actually is,” Galvin argued. “He’s a Northman, a heathen—”

  “Precisely,” Arran interrupted. “He’s a heathen and battles far differently than you’re familiar with, Galvin. You may think it nonsense until you suffer at his hands and know what it is like to be touched by the devil. And while we may think I am the likely target, Brynjar may think otherwise. He could come after Purity and attempt to take her back to his homeland with him. Or he could come after you, Galvin, for lying to him. Though I believe he would be more inclined to come after me. He would gain more from my death and it would satisfy his pride to capture me again and make sure Wolf didn’t save me this time.”

  “The ceremony and celebration must wait,” Purity said, the more they talked the more worried she was for her husband. She feared what may happen and hearing it only made it more real to her.

  “That’s not your decision, daughter,” Galvin admonished. “Besides, if we cower in fear, we give the man what he wants and that I refuse to do. The ceremony and celebration continues. We’ll simply be more cautious. Now go and talk with Iona while I see that the Abbott is shown to his room to rest, then I will speak with Arran.”

  She was being dismissed and she didn’t like it. She stayed put as her father walked off with Abbott Thomas.

  “Go,” Arran urged, his hand at her waist to move her along. Her reluctance to leave him was obvious in the way her feet barely moved and her look that threatened she wasn’t going anywhere. He tried to reassure her. “I’m in no danger presently. Brynjar returns to his camp to make plans.”

  “What if he has already made them and waits for you?”

  “Observant point,” he acknowledged. “Though, Freen is seeing that he leaves. But so you don’t worry, what say we both agree to remain in the keep.”

  Relief hurried a smile to her face. “I’ll wait in the Great Hall for you, since no doubt I will be done before you.”

  She gave him a quick kiss before heading to the kitchen and she wondered if he thought the same as she did. How was it that Brynjar knew that the Abbott was here? Her father hadn’t sent word, yet Brynjar had arrived.

  That could mean only one thing, Brynjar had kept watch on them and that could explain the warrior’s death. He’d caught Brynjar’s warrior spying and was killed for the discovery.

  The question was—how many of Brynjar’s warriors were watching them?

  Chapter 21

  Arran woke the next morning and sprang up in bed when he turned to wrap himself around his wife and found she wasn’t there. He looked around and neither she nor the animals were to be seen. How had he not heard her leave the room?

  Granted they had exhausted themselves making love last night and he had woken later hungry for her again and she didn’t deny him, her desire matching his own. She should have slept more soundly than he had and he should have woken before her. Instead, she was gone.

  He donned his garments in no time, finger-combed his hair roughly, and chewed on some withered mint leaves that had been left on the chest by the side of the bed and tossed them in the hearth before he left the room. He wasn’t as frantic as the last time he had found her gone from their bed in the morning. She had given her word about letting him know where she’d be and had kept it. He was certain it wouldn’t take long to locate her.

  A chill permeated the air as he took the stairs down and hurried into the Great Hall.

  Raised voices caught his attention when he entered the Great Hall. They came from the passageway that connected the kitchen to the keep and a couple of servants, busy seeing to the care of the Great Hall, had stopped their work to listen. Though, they got busy fast enough when they spotted Arran.

  “Have any of you seen my wife?” he asked.

  The two servant lasses shook their heads.

  “I’VE WARNED YOU TO LEAVE HER ALONE!”

  Surprised to hear it was Quiver, having never heard him raise his voice, Arran hurried to the passageway.

  “SHE ANSWERS TO ME!”

  “NOT ANY LONGER!” Quiver yelled.

  “ENOUGH!” Arran ordered and silence followed. “What goes on here?” Arran demanded, ignoring the man, Orvin, who once was the keep’s cook and looked to Quiver.

  “Orvin thinks he can still order Iona about, tell her what she must do,” Quiv
er said. “He can’t accept that he is no longer in command of the kitchen.”

  Arran glared at Orvin who tried to avert his eyes. “I believe my wife made it clear that you no longer have any authority in the keep’s kitchen. Iona is now in charge and a far better cook from what I hear. Do not let me see you in the keep again and don’t dare bother Iona in or out of the kitchen or you will not like the punishment I order on you.”

  Orvin hurried off with barely a respectable bob of his head to Arran.

  Arran noticed then that Iona and Quiver were holding hands and when they saw that he spotted it, they quickly let go. He almost chuckled. Instead, he turned a serious expression on Quiver. “Keep a close watch on Iona so that Orvin doesn’t bother her.”

  Quiver couldn’t keep his delight from showing. “Aye, sir. Aye, I’ll make sure Iona is kept safe.”

  “Good. Now have either of you seen my wife?” he asked, concerned since she’d been his shadow yesterday and he assumed she’d do the same today. He also didn’t like that she had gone off on her own. There was no telling what Brynjar might do.

  “She’s in the barn,” Quiver said and went on to explain without being asked. “I told her that King has been sneaking off in there each morning and she wondered what he’s been up to, so she went to see. Princess is in the kitchen pretending to rest by the hearth when she’s really waiting to see what other food she can get. Mistress Purity told me to let you know where she was if you should wake and search for her before she returned.”

  “Thank you, Quiver,” Arran said, pleased his wife wisely kept him informed of her whereabouts.

  “The morning meal goes to the table shortly, sir,” Iona said.

  Arran acknowledged her with a brief nod before he went through the passageway to the kitchen, where, sure enough, Princess was keeping a close watch on the food being prepared on the different tables. Once outside, it wasn’t that far to the barn.

  There was a strong chill to the air and the sky was overcast. Villagers mingled and saw to chores, spending what time they could outside before the weather forced them inside for a good portion of the day, not that Arran would mind. He looked forward to this winter. He intended to spend a good part of it alone with his wife, in their bedchamber, doing all sorts of wicked things with her.

  He smiled and grew aroused just thinking about it.

  “Good thoughts, my son?” the Abbott asked.

  A silent oath caught at Arran’s lips. He’d been so busy with wicked thoughts of his wife, he hadn’t notice the Abbott approach. Not thinking it wise to lie to the Abbott, he spoke the truth. “Very good thoughts, Abbott Thomas.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. The clans in this area could use good thoughts and smiles, and a wedding ceremony and feast will surely help with that. Tell me, Arran, do you think there is much danger from this Brynjar?” the Abbott asked as he came to a stop near him.

  “I’ve fought many a battle while with the mercenaries and many against heathens. There was not one that came close to being as evil as Brynjar. I don’t even know if the devil would want him.”

  “That says much, my son. I will pray for the poor man’s soul.”

  “Don’t bother, Abbott. He doesn’t have a soul. I don’t believe many of the heathens I met have souls,” Arran said, memories of wild men, their faces scribed with painted symbols, screaming with rage, rushing at him. The unwelcome images reminded him of the hellish years he had spent fighting. “Be glad you battle evil with prayers, Abbott.”

  “I raised a sword when I was a much younger man,” the Abbott confessed to Arran’s surprise. “That and the loss of one I held dear turned me to God, and while I haven’t raised a sword since, you’re right—my weapon now is prayer. It’s mightier than the sword has ever been.”

  “I don’t know if I can agree with you on that, Abbott Thomas, but I admire your belief and courage.”

  “And I admire you for wedding Purity and seeing her kept safe.”

  Arran didn’t know if it was because Abbott was a man of God and it was easy to confess to him or that he simply wanted the man to know the truth. “I did wed her to keep her safe, but now when you wed us it will be because I love her.” He felt something swell strong in his chest. “I love Purity beyond words and I will always love her. She has my heart and I’m glad for it.”

  Abbott Thomas stared at him for a moment as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “You are a blessed man more than you know, my son. Love is more easily lost than it is found and when found, it should be cherished and kept close to the heart.”

  “Abbott Thomas, come, the morning meal awaits us,” Galvin called out. “You too, Arran.”

  It wasn’t lost on Arran that the man didn’t ask for his daughter to join them. “Don’t wait for me, Abbott, enjoy the meal,”

  “I hope you and Purity will join us soon,” Abbott Thomas said and turned to join Galvin and the two set a slow pace to the keep.

  Arran stopped at the fenced in area attached to the barn. He had ordered it built so that Hope was not always confined to the barn. She came to him right away eager for his attention which he lavished on her.

  “Edward will see that you shelter safely inside if rain comes,” he said, stroking the mare’s face. The young lad Edward had taken quite a fancy to Hope and Hope to him.

  Arran made his way to the barn and stopped before entering. He had enjoyed many a pleasant poke with a willing woman in a barn similar to this one. Now he couldn’t ever fathom doing such a thing again, at least not with any woman but his wife. He shook his head. He couldn’t poke her in the barn. It wouldn’t seem right.

  Of course, the question hit him then—what was she doing in the barn?

  He shook his head again. She wouldn’t be poking anyone but him and they didn’t poke, they made love. Still, the foolish thought nagged at him as he took silent steps inside.

  He had always found the thickest, freshest, and sweetest smelling pile of hay to lay in with a woman. That was why he had always made certain the barn was cleaned often. The pleasant scent in the air told him this barn had been recently cleaned. The door was open and enough light filtered in, even with the overcast sky, to allow him to see where he stepped.

  Arran heard and saw nothing, then after taking several more steps he heard a quick scurrying, a rushing away of sorts. His wife suddenly appeared, brushing hay off her garments and plucking some stuck in her hair.

  “You chased him away,” Purity accused.

  “WHO?” he demanded, ready to kill.

  “King.” She smiled and whispered, “He fancies a female cat and was trying to get her to warm up to him.”

  Arran wasn’t sure he laughed from relief or the thought that struck him and spilled right out of his mouth. “So now you’re watching cats mate in the barn?”

  She jabbed him in the arm. “I am not and I wouldn’t do that to King.”

  “But you did it to me,” he teased, “though I can’t blame you since I certainly presented a more enjoyable sight.”

  Purity was about to give his arm another jab when she realized he had laughed and his words teased as he once had done. Signs of the old Arran continued to return, which meant he continued to heal. It was a thought that filled her heart with joy and got her thinking.

  She gasped and slapped her hand to her chest. “How cruel of you, husband, to remind me of your coupling exploits.”

  Arran didn’t know what to say. How could he have been so rude and thoughtless? He grew more upset when she turned her head, sniffling back tears. Words failed him and he wasn’t even sure if he should reach out and touch her.

  Finally, he forced himself to speak, to do something that had become unfamiliar to him—he apologized. “I’m so sorry, Purity, that was cruel of me.” She sniffled again and it tore at his heart. “Please forgive me. I’m a thoughtless wretch.”

  Did he hear her chuckle?

  Purity couldn’t hold back her laughter and it burst out of her. “What a delight it
is to tease you, husband.”

  She thought differently when she turned and looked at him. Her laughter died abruptly when she saw the heavy scowl he wore and the way his arms were folded tightly across his chest. He took a step toward her and she took a step back.

  “Harmless teasing, that’s all it was,” she said as if it explained it away. She took another step back when he once again stepped forward. “I’m truly sorry,” she rushed to say. I meant no harm.” There wasn’t a shred of forgiveness in his dark eyes.

  He lurched at her and she yelped and hurried back away from him only to lose her footing and tumble back.

  Arran’s hand reached out and snatched her by the arm and stopped her from falling. He lowered his head until their noses almost touched and smiled. “Never tease someone who is a master at it.”

  She slapped his arm, her heart beating wildly. “You frightened me.”

  He stole a quick kiss. “Why would you feel frightened when you know I’d never hurt you?” His brow narrowed. “You do know I’d never hurt you?”

  “Aye, I do,” she said and shook her head, “but you scared me so much that I didn’t think about that.”

  “Never let your fear stop you from seeing the truth,” he cautioned. “I would never hurt you, on that you have my word. I love you far too much to ever intentionally cause you a moment of pain.”

  Her breath caught briefly. “You truly do love me?” When he did nothing but stare at her, his mouth appearing as if he would speak, yet didn’t, she smiled and teased, “Can’t find the words?”

  Arran shook his head, feeling a fool, a fool in love. “You’re right, I can’t find the words to express how much I love you. Maybe it’s because I never thought to fall in love or cared to fall in love, and God knows these last five years had me come to believe there wasn’t an ounce of love in the world. Then you came along and loved me even though I didn’t return that love. Through you, I came to know love, feel it, relish it, and cherish what I found with you. The three simple words I love you seem inadequate to express how I feel, but it’s the belief and the courage to recognize it and admit it that gives them so much meaning. So, wife, you will hear me say it often and know how much I mean it—I love you.”