“I’ll be behind two doors, lad,” she smiled.
He nodded and looked at his plate. “Aye.”
Irmengarde looked down at her plate, sampling the delicious fish pie. It was good, she had to admit. She glanced across the table as she took a swig of the ale. It was just then that she caught his gaze on her – she saw the longing in his eyes and drew a deep breath. It was a longing that echoed her own.
She closed her eyes a moment. The feelings that coursed through her body were too large to understand, too large by far to hold back.
She had finished her food and she pushed it away, leaning back in the chair. She drained the ale and he stood. In the hallway, they fell on each other like hungry travelers lost in an endless desert. She gasped as his body pressed to hers and she kissed him with every inch of her longing.
He held her close. She could hear his heart beating in his chest under her cheek and she gripped him tight. She was weeping, the intensity of her emotion too great to hold back.
“Lass?” he looked down on her, his body still pressing on hers.
“We cannot,” she whispered.
He nodded. “I know.”
She smiled. “No absolution.”
“No.”
They both looked at each other, and she gave a shaky laugh. He nodded.
“Not much we can do?”
She shook her head. “We have to see what they say,” she said. “I know it could go well.”
He nodded. “It could.”
She swallowed hard. It was a brave thing to think, but why should it not be so? She had been married to Clovis for almost two years and there was, mercifully, no issue. Any priest would have to agree there were grounds for annulment in that. She wasn’t sure, but it seemed possible that the abbot would have made a convincing argument for it.
“Goodnight?” she whispered.
He nodded. His hand stroked her cheek. “Goodnight,” he agreed.
She reached up and rested a hand on his neck, then turned and went into her room. She closed the door and sat down heavily.
“Only a few more days,” she whispered.
It was agony. How could she wait so long, before she touched him again? She didn’t know if she could bear it! Her body was throbbing and aching, her longing for him like a fire within that she couldn’t quench.
She lay down, but she knew it would be hard to get to sleep. She would be thinking of him until she saw him again. She undressed, and her cheeks grew red as she thought of his hands, moving on her body, the way he touched her.
“Irmengarde?” she scolded her image in the badly cast mirror on the wall. Then, still in her shift, she slid under the blankets and went to sleep.
SURPRISING NEWS RECEIVED
Brogan sat down heavily in the inn taproom. He rubbed at his eyes wearily and yawned. He had barely slept all night. He was exhausted. Thoughts of her had chased each other around and around his head until he thought he might go mad.
“Bread and cheese, aye?”
Brogan nodded to the tired-looking proprietor. He felt his stomach twinge with hunger. “Aye. Thanks,” he added as the man disappeared wearily back to the kitchen.
He looked out of the window and thought of Irmengarde. His face flushed, thinking now of the things he had thought that night: imagining her body twined around his, his lips clinging to her mouth, hearing her sigh as he held her close.
The proprietor brought him a plate of bread and cheese as well as a pitcher of milk, and he settled down, hungrily, to breakfast.
“Good morning?”
He jumped, as she walked up soundlessly, laying her hand on his shoulder. He had barely heard anything, and yet, without turning around, he knew that voice.
“Good morning,” he said. He looked up into her eyes. He smiled.
She smiled back. “You slept well?”
He chuckled. “Not really.”
She grinned and he saw a spark in her eyes. “That’s honest. I can sympathize.”
He raised a brow. Had she thought of him? He raised a shoulder. “Oh?”
She shot him a wicked grin. “Eat your bread,” she said. “And drink that milk. We need our strength for our wayfaring.”
He laughed. She was so direct! He pushed the plate to her. “You need some too.”
She took a slice of bread. “I have every intention to. Do you see the proprietor anywhere?”
He nodded. “I’ll call him.”
“Yes. We need an extra helping.”
They had a swift breakfast and set out on the road as soon as they could. Brogan felt his spirits lift as they went along the hillside. Irmengarde was riding ahead, her hair streaming out in the breeze. He felt his heart lift.
“How much longer?”
“Only a few hours,” she called back, shouting against the sea breeze. He nodded back. He slowed, watching the sea pull away as they rode up the hill towards the city they could see in the distance on the hill. A castle was on the hill, a grim-looking fortress indeed. He frowned at Irmengarde.
“Where are we to go?”
“To the bishop’s residence,” she said, as if that were obvious.
He felt himself getting surprisingly nervous. His family tended to try and stay out of all dealings with authority – there was a deep-rooted belief inside him that anything resembling authority was bad. He let his horse fall in beside her.
They reached the city in two hours. He dismounted at the gate, feeling his heart beat fast.
“What is your business in Edinburgh?” the guard challenged.
“Um…we have a letter, for the bishop.” Brogan glanced at Irmengarde, who had remained mounted. She looked back impassively.
The guard sneered. “A likely tale. A whippersnapper like you? Seeing the bishop? I’m more likely tae believe you’re off tae rob his grace the bishop.”
Brogan went tense as if he had been slapped. Behind him, he heard Irmengarde suck in a breath.
“I am Lady Irmengarde, baroness Tysdale,” she snapped in her best commanding voice. “And this is my trusted companion. You will let us see the bishop, or it will go ill for you.”
Well done, lass.
Brogan watched as the guard’s eyes narrowed. He saw him consider protesting, then hastily swallow his words.
“Yes, milady. I will send you there with an escort. They’ll make sure you and your companion get there with no trouble.” He glanced angrily at Brogan, as if suggesting he might cause trouble.
Brogan shrugged. “We’ll be on our way.”
He turned away as the man swore under his breath.
They rode through the gate, two soldiers riding alongside them. Brogan stared around in awe. He had never seen such huge walls, such lofty houses! He could barely believe what he was seeing. He glanced sideways at Irmengarde. She had the same impassive face as before.
He rode closer. “A grand place, eh?”
She smiled gently at him. “It is.”
They rode on. At the end of the cobbled street a vast edifice stood, lofty turrets pointing up toward the clouded sky. He could see workmen busy on the site and guessed that they were at work. It was a cathedral, he guessed at once. He had heard of such things, but had never thought he’d see one. He turned to Irmengarde, but she still looked simply serene.
“Not too far now.”
They turned the corner, their horses’ hooves ringing on cobbles. He shivered in the shadows of the tall buildings. He wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to places like this.
“That’s it.”
He stared at the house and felt himself start to get nervous. He swallowed and found his mouth was dry. This was where they were headed?
“Let’s go in.”
He nodded and swung down, leading his horse to the gate. Their escort must have negotiated for them, for the gates swung open and they went in. He tried to stop his mouth from dropping open.
They were admitted to the place and he stood in the hallway, looking up at the ceiling. A stern-fac
ed man in a long robe addressed them.
“You have an appointment?”
“We have an urgent need to see his grace,” Irmengarde said firmly. “A letter has traveled ahead of us from the abbot at Lexfield?”
The man inclined his head. “That is true. His grace is finishing morning devotions. He will see you when he is finished.”
Brogan looked to Irmengarde and shrugged. She nodded graciously.
“Thank you. We will wait here.”
She sat down on an elaborate settee and waited. The door of the office creaked open after what felt like an age.
“His grace, Bishop Wilford, will see you now.”
They went in. Brogan felt his nerves tense as he looked at the finely dressed presence in the long white robe. He had a stern face. His eyes, ringed with gray prints of poor sleep, were hard.
“Your grace.” Irmengarde bowed, kissing the ring on his left hand. Brogan, uncomfortably, copied her. They stayed kneeling.
“Rise, my children.”
The voice was as hard as the expression and Brogan felt worried. This was not the sort of man who would do them a kindness. He was as pitiless a person as Brogan ever saw.
“Your grace?” Irmengarde began. “We are here concerning the matter addressed in the correspondence from the abbot of Lexfield.”
He raised a hand and Brogan drew in a breath. Now, he thought, was the moment when the bishop condemned them both.
“Wait,” he said.
Irmengarde fell silent. Brogan coughed. The bishop gave him a withering look. He went quiet.
“I have had news of an…interesting nature…regarding your petition.”
Here we go, Brogan thought, surprised by how little fear he felt. People were killed for what he’d done. He could face it. He regretted nothing.
I would do it all again, if it meant I could be with her just one night…
Irmengarde had gone stiff. He saw the fear in her eyes, though her face was neutral. He stifled the urge to reach across and take her hand.
“What news?” she made herself inquire. Her voice was dry like sand.
“I have heard that his lordship is dying. He is grievously ill. It seems likely that, in view of his illness, he is regretting the way he has lived his life. He has expressed an interest to retire to a monastery.”
“What?” Irmengarde stared at him. The look on her face made Brogan’s heart flip. She looked disbelieving, but also incredibly happy.
The bishop lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know the baron personally, but I understand that the church would be more than happy to welcome him. His property will of course fall to the church.”
“I see,” Irmengarde nodded briskly. Brogan frowned. That didn’t seem fair! What would happen to her?
“Um…” he cleared his throat. She turned around and fixed him with a stare. He stopped mid-sentence.
“Is there anything I can do to assist him? For example, is there anything we can do to ease the transfer of property unto the church?”
The bishop shrugged. “I suppose, should you be willing to sign away your share to the property now – and it seems that you have already requested an annulment – it would make matters quicker. In light of this, it may be possible for the legalities to proceed…somewhat faster.”
Brogan felt his heart start to thump in his chest. He glanced across at Irmengarde. She was positively glowing. She nodded.
Nobody who did not know her would have noticed the soft radiance on her face. She looked like a person who, after years in darkness, had finally seen the light.
“Well, then,” the bishop nodded. “Since it seems our business is concluded, may I offer you accommodation in our guest quarters? Your, um, servant will have provision made outside.”
Irmengarde looked round swiftly, and shook her head. “Thank you, bishop, but no. We have already made arrangements for ourselves.”
“As you wish.”
They drifted out of the office together. In the hallway, Irmengarde turned to Brogan. She looked up at him, eyes shining.
“Oh, Brogan…can you believe it? It seems everything will be settled.”
He nodded. “I know.”
In that moment, with her eyes shining like that, it was almost impossible not to bend down and kiss her. He looked around and coughed.
“Well, then,” he said. “It seems we’re at our leisure for the rest of the day?”
Irmengarde grinned. “Let’s go exploring.”
That was what they did.
It took two days. On the morning of the third day, they were summoned to the bishop’s house together. They stood in his office, side by side. Brogan looked up at him with his nerves on edge.
The bishop raised a brow. “The baron lives! Heaven be praised. And it seems matters could be concluded rather speedily. The papers for the annulment have been dispatched and I have placed my seal on them. Your marriage to Baron Tysdale is dissolved, as of this moment.”
Irmengarde stared at him. Brogan reached for her hand. She was too distracted, pressing her fingers to her lips. “Can it be true?” she whispered.
The bishop nodded. “It is true, milady.”
“Thank you.”
They drifted out of his office side by side. Outside in the hallway, Brogan turned to Irmengarde.
“Milady?”
“Irmengarde,” she corrected immediately.
He nodded. His heart was already soaring. He reached for her hand. She took it, and turned to kiss him, pressing her lips against his.
They kissed.
Outside, Brogan felt his heart soar, and knew there was nothing more beautiful in the world than Irmengarde’s smile.
“You know what, lass?” he said, turning to her.
“What?” she asked, breathlessly.
“There’s been something I’ve been wanting tae do for a long time.”
“Yes?”
“Would you marry me?”
She beamed. “Oh, Brogan,” she said, and her eyes were filled with tears. “Yes. Oh, yes! Of course, I would. With all my heart.”
They kissed again and walked on into the golden street.
WORDS LONG UNSPOKEN
Irmengarde stood in the chapel in Lexfield abbey. She looked up at the abbot, and felt sure she could detect a smile on his face. He was looking over their heads, at the rest of the church, clearing his throat to start the service. She glanced sideways at Brogan.
Dressed in a kilt and shirt, his red hair combed well, he looked more handsome than she’d ever seen him. She felt her cheeks warm with a blush and looked away, focusing her gaze on the preacher.
She looked down to where her own dress reached her feet. Long and plain, it was woven out of fine linen. She had decorated it a little in the time they had, sewing some lace about the neck. Otherwise, it was simply made. It was an utter contrast to the elaborate gown she’d had when she wed Clovis.
The priest was speaking, and she drew herself back to focus on his words, breathing in the scent of dust and candles, burning in the cool air.
The service was in Latin, but Irmengarde knew the lines and knew when, at the slight hesitance, she was meant to reply.
“Volo,” she said in a low voice. When she said it, she felt her body tingle with happiness.
When it came to Brogan’s turn, she tensed, hoping he would just copy her response, which was Latin for “I do.” He cleared his throat, and then said it.
She closed her eyes a moment, wondering how it was that she’d never know it was possible to be this happy.
He was smiling too, a faint redness in his cheeks where he must be blushing. She looked at the priest, focusing on the remaining words of the ceremony, not wanting to stand there grinning like a fool. She felt happier than she had ever felt before and she resisted the urge to turn around and kiss Brogan.
When the abbot finished his words, they turned to each other. She could see Brogan’s smile, so tender in the light of the candles. She wore no veil, and he smiled in
to her eyes and kissed her resoundingly.
She blushed. The abbot was smiling. They turned to thank him.
“Thank you, Father,” Irmengarde whispered.
He gave her a gentle smile. “I am happy to assist in something of such happiness. Blessings on the pair of you.”
“Thank you, Father.”
Outside in the garden, Irmengarde leaned against Brogan, still not sure that she could believe what had happened. It was so unlike her last experience of a wedding. That time, the church had been packed with people, the crowds had shouted blessings and she’d been miserable.
Now, dressed in a simple white dress, a crown of green leaves on her hair, they had no attendants at all. She was happier than she had ever been.
“You look beautiful,” Brogan whispered hoarsely.
She smiled up at him happily. “So do you.”
He blushed. “Oh, lass.”
She felt her heart burn. She was his lass, now. No more the baroness, no more unreachable. She was happy, too.
She leaned forward and kissed him again and together they went to the gate.
“Well?” Brogan asked as they walked out of the gate into the forest, hands twined around each other’s fingers, holding on like they never wanted to let go of them. “Where to, now?”
Irmengarde raised a brow. Her heart was thudding in her chest, her body a tumult of feelings. “I reckon there’s an inn nearby here,” she said lightly. “I seem to remember we stayed there once. I’ve a good mind to visit it, again.” She tried to control the tightness in her voice.
His eyes kindled. “I reckon that’s a fine plan,” he said.
She chuckled and, arm in arm, they went down the long path from the abbey to where a cart stood.
At the inn they went straight up to the room. Irmengarde felt her heart pounding in her chest as she followed Brogan up the steps. She was excited and breathless and it was so unlike the memory of Clovis that she didn’t even think of it.
This is what she’d never imagined it could be.
She felt a shiver of excitement run through her like a ripple in water as Brogan pulled her against him, pressing his lips to hers. She reached for him and wrapped her arms around him. His body was hard on hers and filled her with excitement.
Her Highland Protector (Iron 0f The Highlands Series Book 2) Page 19
