The Saint

by Allison Butler

  ‘I could not see them, so I dinnae know.’

  Cal’s gut clenched at his blunder. ‘Forgive me.’

  ‘There is naught to forgive.’ A small smile showed briefly then disappeared. ‘I believe Dalziel is still away. Even if he has returned, he isnae one to dirty his hands. Not when he has a son to see … unpleasant things done for him.’

  Cal had seen most of the men who’d attacked him, along with those who hadn’t yet joined the fray. ‘How old is the son?’

  ‘Morgan is two and twenty, three summers older than I.’

  Isla was nineteen, five years younger than him. Why that mattered he had no clue. He needed information but he needed to stop comparing details with himself.

  ‘Why would Morgan have come for you last night?’

  ‘My father died.’

  ‘Aye, but why did Morgan wait until your father had passed?’ She was holding something back. Something she didn’t want to reveal. ‘Isla, I need to understand—’

  ‘His death was part of the agreement.’

  ‘What agreement?’

  Her chin dipped, but only for a moment. ‘Dalziel discovered father had the sickness. When people know they are ill, they must leave their family and go to the leper house and wait to die.’

  Cal was aware of how the process worked. It prevented the disease from spreading to the rest of the townsfolk.

  ‘Dalziel learned father was sick five years ago.’ Words spoken beneath her breath as if she didn’t want him or anyone else to hear.

  Thane had only entered the leper house two weeks ago. ‘Who is Dalziel?’

  ‘Father’s friend.’ Her hands fidgeted in her lap. ‘Father didn’t want to leave me alone. He was afraid for me. He bargained with Dalziel to keep his silence.’

  Callum frowned. Friends didn’t give away secrets. He kept the thought to himself.

  ‘What did he bargain?’ A weight settled low in Cal’s gut. He waited. She didn’t answer. ‘Isla, what price did your father pay to stay with you for five more years?’

  ‘Father had to stop working. He could nae longer cut and sell meat.’

  A sensible decision, but Cal sensed the cost was higher. ‘Isla?’

  She paused to moisten her lips. ‘Father promised Dalziel the day he died I would wed him.’

  God above. Cal had rescued a woman from her betrothed.

  ‘I … I dinnae know about the bargain. I never believed I would marry. I’d already settled on dedicating my life to God. Father told me about the agreement the day he left. The day he said goodbye.’ Forgotten, the remaining bread she held was crushed between her hands. ‘He promised to fix it. He promised to send someone to take me to the priory. He sent ye.’ She lowered her chin as if she were to blame for all that had happened.

  He crouched before her and set his hand over the top her clenched fists. ‘Isla, ’tis nae your fault.’ How men could barter an innocent who’d chosen to do God’s work for their own gain was beyond him. ‘I made a promise to your father. I will get you to the priory.’ He would get her there safely, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

  Cal was starting to understand the situation, but there were several things that made no sense. ‘Isla, one of the men I saw last night at the cottage had a scar on the right side of his face.’ Her head lifted and he witnessed the deep furrows between her brows.

  ‘’Tis Morgan, Dalziel’s son.’ Her words slipped free on a breathless whisper as if saying his name any louder would summon him here.

  He gently squeezed her hands to let her know she was safe. ‘You said Morgan does Dalziel’s work for him.’

  She nodded. ‘He does.’

  ‘Then why would Morgan have set his men to attack without question and put your life at risk?’ Cal was certain it had been Morgan who tossed the flaming torch onto the outbuilding’s thatched roof and set it ablaze.

  ‘Morgan does his father’s bidding, but if I were to die while he was fulfilling his duty, Morgan would dance a jig on my grave.’

  Almighty God. What had Isla done to garner such hatred? ‘Why?’

  ‘I dinnae ken for sure. All I know is that Dalziel and Father both courted my mother and she married my father.’

  Chapter 5

  The warmth and strength of Callum’s hands at her waist as he’d lifted her onto the saddle was easy to recall. As was the gentle firming of his hand over hers to let her know he was there after she’d answered the questions he’d asked her. Despite not being eager to ride again so soon, it was the safest and quickest way for her to travel.

  An endless amount of time seemed to pass before she felt the rigid stiffness holding every muscle in her body hostage give in and surrender. Her buttocks relaxed in the saddle and she found herself rocking with the horse’s swaying gait. Her feet eased in the stirrups instead of pressing down into them and her legs gave a silent cheer. Her hands rested atop the leather pommel rather than choking the life out of it. Only then did she open her other senses to her surroundings. And the man leading his horse.

  The early morning sun warmed her left side and strengthened the scent of wet soil and decaying plants. As they travelled south, the steps Callum and Mungo took sounded less soggy at times, while at others it sounded as if they were walking through water. Birds chirped and sang, while others squawked from above, from within the trees and from further afield.

  She and Callum didn’t speak. Conversation would be difficult with her riding and him leading, but now her mind wasn’t solely ruled by fear of tumbling from his horse, her thoughts turned to her father.

  Her heart squeezed at the realisation that he was gone, never to return. Tears threatened, but she held them at bay by telling herself he suffered no more. She missed him, but knowing he was at peace made his absence a little easier to bear. Knowing Callum had been with him when he’d died made his passing easier too.

  Callum. Who was he? Where was he from? How old was he? What colour was his hair? Was it long or short? What colour were his eyes? Why was he still here?

  She dismissed the last thought and concentrated on the many things she missed since her eyes began to blur and her vision wavered. Not being able to see the faces of the people about her was the thing she missed most.

  ‘Hold on.’

  Isla’s upper body whipped backward. She gasped and tightened her hold with her knees and hands and saved herself from tumbling off over the horse’s rear. She locked every muscle in place as Mungo turned slightly to the right and gathered speed. Her heartbeat soared with imagined dangers. Had her attackers found them? They’d never outrun them. Would they kill her or take her prisoner? Would Callum die because of her? What she couldn’t see became more frightening when her imagination took flight. She loathed being blind. She hated being afraid more.

  She clenched her jaw and closed her eyes tight, clinging to the horse whose smooth gait had become a jerking trot. They were running away from something or someone. A tingling sensation erupted at the top of her head and swept down the sides of her face and neck. By the time it reached her chest, she realised she was holding her breath and opened her mouth, gulping and gasping air into her starving lungs.

  ‘Lie down.’

  The darkness tilted forward as a large hand pressed against her back. Isla gave in to the downward pressure and lowered her upper body until Mungo’s wiry mane brushed against her right cheek. Cool air brushed her other cheek, hands and her exposed lower legs, but Callum’s palm and lower arm warmed the length of her spine. Mungo stopped. The smell of pine intensified, telling her they were hiding within a greenwood.

  ‘Be still. We will move on once the travellers have passed.’

  His whispered words tickled her ear and left a trail of goose flesh down her neck. Now aware of what was happening, Isla closed her eyes and sank more heavily into Mungo to wait. Callum’s arm remained on her back and she was glad of it. His touch warmed her but it also reminded her she wasn’t alone. She wondered at the hint of herbs she smelled on him. Was
he wounded during the attack? Had he used herbs to treat any injuries?

  ‘They’ve gone.’ His voice rumbled low but was no longer a whisper.

  Isla made to sit up, but the weight of his hand doubled. ‘Lie low until the trees thin. I’ll tell you when it’s safe to rise.’ He removed his hand and she missed its warmth like she missed the sight of the sun.

  Mungo walked forward and though Isla stayed low, she pressed more of her weight into her hands as they gripped the pommel.

  ‘You can straighten now.’ She pushed herself upright and inhaled deeply. ‘Come. Stretch your legs. I’ll help you dismount.’ She turned to her left from where his voice sounded. His hands grasped her waist and her fingers searched for and found his broad shoulders as he lifted her to the ground. Once she was confident her legs could hold her, she released him and he her.

  ‘Do you need … privacy?’

  She understood what he was asking. ‘Nae, I’m fine. Did ye recognise the travellers?’

  ‘Nae. But we cannae risk being seen by anyone.’ She heard each of his footsteps fall heavily then fade, strengthen and fade. Was he pacing?

  ‘Following the coast south might be the only way, but it also means the road you mentioned is well-travelled by others.’

  Her father had told her of how men from Rome had come and built a road to ease their travels across the soggy moors from Aberdeen south to Stonehaven. The road was known by several different names, one being the Causey Mounth.

  ‘We’ve been following alongside the path you spoke of at a distance, but the woods and trees grow scarce in places and open out into marshlands that offer nae protection from searching eyes. Keeping to the moors isnae worth risking Mungo breaking a leg.’

  As he spoke, his footfalls never faltered, only ebbed and neared. Was he changing his mind about taking her to the priory? ‘What … what do ye suggest we do?’ Isla hoped he still saw them as we and hadn’t assigned her to the too difficult and not worth the risk basket. She clutched her hands before her and waited for his reply.

  ‘We will wait here for dark to fall then make our way over to the road. The journey from here to Stonehaven will be much faster when we can both ride.’

  Isla’s knees almost gave way as he spoke. She locked them in place and drew a full breath, telling herself he wouldn’t abandon her.

  * * *

  Callum wasn’t happy with the delay, but Isla’s safety and Mungo’s wellbeing were more important than his impatience. They’d shared some cheese and ate the remainder of the loaf they’d started at dawn and then, instead of unsaddling Mungo, in case they needed to flee the wood in haste, he’d loosened the girth and given his mount the partial rub he’d promised earlier. He tucked the small piece of hide back into his waistband and left Mungo to graze on the opposite side of the fallen tree.

  ‘Does it help?’

  Cal turned at her query. ‘Does what help?’

  ‘Yer constant pacing.’

  Cal looked down at his feet, then over at his mount standing at ease beneath a pine and then back up to the woman sitting on another fallen tree trunk, in a different wood. Had he been pacing? ‘It helps me think.’

  She tipped her head to one side, as if she could see him and was trying to understand him.

  ‘Do ye want to talk about what’s troubling ye?’

  Cal wasn’t one to share his thoughts with anyone and he couldn’t tell Isla she was the cause of his current concerns.

  ‘Talking about his concerns used to help my father.’ She lowered her chin.

  Had Thane paced when he worried about something? He obviously hadn’t shared all his concerns with his daughter. At least not until it was too late. Cal hated thinking ill of the dead, but had Thane thought through what he was doing before he’d died and left his daughter to uphold an agreement made between men?

  ‘My concerns are my own.’ The instant he refused her offer to listen to his worries, her delicate chin dropped lower and something twisted inside his chest. ‘But I would like to hear about you.’ Much to his annoyance, he did want to know more about her. She seemed to be so many contradictions all rolled into one woman.

  Her chin lifted part way, wariness stealing the softness from her mouth. ‘What more do ye want to ken?’

  Cal stood in front of her, with only two arm lengths separating them. ‘Have you always been blind?’

  Standing this close, he couldn’t miss the further firming of her mouth. Her reaction to his personal question didn’t surprise him. He’d already established she had determination and a strength many men would envy, but his curiosity about her blindness was real and grew by the moment. He couldn’t imagine living his life without seeing it.

  Her chin tilted impossibly high. ‘I will answer yer question if ye answer mine.’

  He had no clue as to what she could want to know about him, but saw no harm in her asking. Was she curious about his marital status, if he had bairns and what skills he possessed? Whatever it was, they had time to fill before the sun set and they could be on their way. Perhaps learning a little about each other would help them on their coming journey. ‘What is your question?’

  ‘What do ye expect in return for taking me to Restenneth Priory?’

  Cal frowned down at Isla, her face upturned; the twin lines between her brows weren’t as deep as before and suggested curiosity rather than a challenge. ‘I expect nothing.’

  ‘Nothing? Forgive me, but yer nae a priest and Dalziel has taught me that men always expect something in return for a favour or a good deed.’

  ‘I will forgive your ignorance, Isla.’ He detested having his word questioned. ‘But there is nae always a penalty, as you name it, and there isnae one this time.’

  Her lips parted at his naming her ignorant and she made a scoffing sound that left no doubt she still didn’t believe him. ‘Yer a saint then. I’m certain yer parents would be proud.’

  Cal stilled, as did everything else in the wood. The sudden boom of his heart restarting inside his chest gave the birds leave to chirp and the wind to hush through the branches. He swallowed hard.

  ‘If I ever find out who my parents are, I’ll tell them you said so.’ Colour leached from Isla’s cheeks and her lips opened and closed without sound. He stood there holding his ground as if turning away would make him appear weak. And then he remembered she was blind and couldn’t see how he looked or what he did or how much it hurt to admit he didn’t know his parents. Had no clue as to who they were or where he was from or why they hadn’t wanted him.

  ‘I’m sor—’

  ‘Stay here,’ Cal said, cutting off an apology he refused to hear. ‘I’ll return once I’ve checked the perimeter.’ He strode about the edges of the inner trees, scanning the shadows, telling himself he wasn’t running away.

  * * *

  Isla reached out a hand and half rose from her seat, but she couldn’t see where he was or where he was going. She sank back down onto the log and listened to his footsteps fade.

  Her fingers curled into her palm. She hadn’t known about his parents. Hadn’t known he’d never known them. Her heart squeezed. She missed her mother and father more than she missed her sight, but at least she had memories of both to warm her when the cold crept inside her belly and settled deep. Callum didn’t even know who his parents were.

  ‘Dear God, forgive me. I never meant—’ she hitched in a breath and released it. Being blind didn’t make her stupid or ignorant. With the exception of Sorcha, it had been so long since someone had done something for her or her father without wanting or expecting to receive something in return. He didn’t even know her. Had barely known her father. Why would he put himself at risk for her, a stranger? It would be so much easier for him to leave her and get on with his life.

  Isla’s stomach clenched. She held her breath, sat still and quiet as her father had taught her, and listened. Encouraged by the little breeze, tree branches touched and rustled against each other. She heard nothing else. Even the birds were si
lent. She sniffed the air, hoping the scent of herbs would reach her. She smelled naught but pine and dampened earth and foliage and the tired scent of her own fear. Had he taken his horse and left her?

  ‘Mungo?’ She stood and turned to her left, knowing Callum had gone in that direction earlier to see to his mount. Bending at her knees, she picked up her sack from where she’d placed it on the ground beside her and set it atop the fallen log.

  Isla held out her right hand in front of her to save her walking into anything she couldn’t see and placed the fingertips of her left hand on top of the trunk to use as a guide. She started forward, skimming her fingers along roughened bark, telling herself he wouldn’t leave her, hoping it was true. He’d given his word. He’d said so. But that was before she’d spoken of his unknown parents. The soothing low rumble of his voice had dropped impossibly lower, as if something had lodged in his throat and his words struggled to find a way out. She’d hurt him with her thoughtlessness. Perhaps in this instance she had been ignorant. What if he had gone and left her?

  The cool air within the greenwood suddenly dropped to a chill that clung to her bare skin and snickered at her woollen gown. It might be summer, but the temperature dropped once the sun set, something she’d not noticed the previous night with Callum’s heat surrounding her. When he’d dismounted, she’d then had her fear of riding to keep her warm.

  She edged her way further along the decaying log. Would he have left his mount this far away from where she’d been sitting? How far had she walked? How long was this tree? It seemed like she’d walked for miles. Her heart thudded in her chest. He’d gone. He’d left her. She was to blame.

  She rushed forward, her right hand waving from side to side before her, her left scraping free rotting bark.

  ‘Isla, stop.’

  His command reached her and she halted.

  ‘Ye came back?’ She released a shuddering breath and lowered her right hand.

  ‘Aye. Stay where you are.’

  Isla turned her head, trying to gauge where his voice was coming from. ‘I thought … I dinnae know. I’m sorry …’ She turned about where she stood. ‘Callum?’