Highland Sanctuary

by Jennifer Hudson Taylor

  "Women swoon often enough." Gavin waved his hand to dismiss the issue.

  "Aye, but they don't stiffen in spasms like a mad animal, or foam at the mouth and roll their eyes into their eyelids. What that lass did was no simple female faint."

  A servant rushed in. "My laird, more men have arrived at the gate. Two clergymen are demanding entrance."

  13

  Doreen led Serena to the east wing. She carried a single candle in a brass holder and shielded it from the draft as they walked. Serena yawned and covered her mouth. She hoped she could stay awake long enough to properly prepare for bed.

  "I thought ye might like to be on the same hall as Gavin for protection. Though the laird doesn't have many overnight guests, the castle has a lot of strange noises. Having someone nearby will be a comfort."

  "Ye're so thoughtful, Doreen. Why did ye not put me with the rest of the servants or near ye?"

  "I've a verra strong feeling the laird would prefer ye to be treated as a guest. It might be less comfortable with the other maids," Doreen said, moving ahead.

  "Why?" Serena blinked, confusion mixing with her weary mind. "Have I done something to offend the others? Do they already know about this morn at the market?"

  "Nay." Doreen shook her head. "I've yet to hear that tale. I'm talking 'bout how the laird favors ye. Have ye not seen the way he looks at ye? 'Tis odd that ye were invited as a guest to the feast—to be served by those ye normally work with."

  Serena gulped. She had realized it. Mayhap she should have been more firm in her protests to Iain. Shame crept through her. Should she have not accepted the gowns, even for the benefit of the village lasses? Doubt invaded her mind until her temples throbbed. She rubbed the side of her head as if the simple act would ease the pressure.

  "Doreen, please, ye must know there is naught between us. I'm of too low birth for him to consider marriage and I'd never consent to aught else. The thought of dishonoring my mither or my Lord is too much."

  "Serena, I trust ye, but men are different from us. King David of Jerusalem had a heart for God, but his lust for Bathsheba overcame his good reason. The laird is a mere man as David was, with more power than ye." Doreen paused in front of a closed door on the left. "Ye'll be two doors down from Gavin's chamber."

  "Aye, and I remember Craig is across the hall." Serena clutched Doreen's arm. "What an imagination ye have. Ye could be a gifted storyteller. The laird may have shown me special favor, but that's the extent of it."

  Doreen paused in front of the chamber where Serena would be staying. She inserted a key and turned it. The lock snapped and the door opened. Doreen strode across the chamber and set the candle upon a corner table. She laid her hands on her waist. "What do ye think? Will this do?"

  Glancing around the chamber, Serena noticed the large bed in the center. It looked so grand compared to her thin mattress in the narrow loft at home. While running the castle, Serena had seen many beds like this, but never once considered that she'd have the good fortune to sleep in one. A carved double-door wardrobe stood against the entrance wall. The mantle fireplace faced the foot of the bed.

  "We can bank a warm fire for yer bath since the storm cooled off the summer heat. If ye don't mind, I can bring ye one of my nightgowns." Doreen pointed to the far wall. "If ye open the shutters, ye'll see a beautiful view of the sea. On warm nights ye can sleep with it open and hear the lulling sound of the ocean waves upon the rocks below. I'm in the east wing as well, a floor above ye in the servant quarters."

  Serena had never needed to be on the servants' floors as her duties were in the main part of the castle. She nodded. "Aye, a warm fire and a bath would do me good. Then I'll tell ye what happened at the market, why I'm in trouble, and a wee bit about my sordid past."

  Doreen lit more candles around the chamber. Serena shivered in her wet garments, eager to donn a warm, dry nightgown, even if it was borrowed.

  "Have ye eaten?" Doreen asked.

  "Nay." Serena shook her head. "But I would delight in some nourishment."

  "I'll see to everythin'." Doreen left the room.

  Serena built a fire. Her damp clothes were heavy as she spread out her skirt around her to dry. She rubbed her hands together over the flames. Doreen returned with a tray of black bean soup, some cider, and a chunk of bread. She laid a white nightgown on the bed.

  In between bites, Serena told Doreen of the day's events and her falling fit. Once she'd had her fill, Serena pushed her plate aside. Doreen continued to sit in silence.

  "Do ye think me evil?" Serena asked.

  "Nay! Of course not." Doreen looked at her as if offended.

  "I wish there was a way to get ye out of this mess. Gavin MacKenzie and the laird may have a lot of pull with the town, but not even they can defy the kirk. No one can. Even the King himself must relinquish some power. It represents God's sovereign authority." She grabbed Serena's hands as moisture gathered in her eyes. "I'm verra worried for ye."

  Someone knocked on the door.

  "Come in," Serena called.

  Two men servants carried in a tub. Four maids followed with buckets of steaming water.

  "Over here by the hearth," Serena directed.

  The men grunted as they set the tub. The maids poured the water. Warm steam clouded the room, causing Serena to look forward to a relaxing bath. She rubbed her hands like a child waiting for a sweetmeat.

  When the servants left, Doreen stood and picked up Serena's discarded tray. "I'll go and let ye bathe in peace. Is there aught more I can do?"

  "Nay, thank ye for everything." Serena gathered the nightgown in her arms.

  "Ye shall always have it. I won't soon forget how ye taught me to write my name and ye came to care for my mither two years ago while I worked in Braighwick. She might've died if not for ye." Doreen smiled, before turning and quitting the room.

  Serena sighed as she undressed and laid her garments by the fire. She dipped her hand into the water. At first it scalded her skin and then she adjusted to the heat. She pulled it out. Her pink skin glistened in the firelight, now cool in the air.

  Is this what burning at the stake felt like? Until she was too numb to feel anymore? Fear slithered through her body. Trembling, she slipped to her knees, hanging onto the side of the tub.

  "Oh, God!" she cried, her chest heaved, and the tears freely poured. "Please help me. I don't want to die like that. Please—"

  Gavin stood over the rocky cliff listening to the constant waves below, letting the salty air open his lungs. The unseen wind brushed his face and neck. Could he be feeling the very breath of God? At home Father Mike had a Latin Bible, and Gavin remembered a passage in the book of Genesis saying, "And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters."

  Surely, if ever there was a place for God to hear a man this would be it. An orange orb lifted from the gray sea, ever so slowly, lighting the sky from the dark night to a new dawn. The sun continued to rise, every second transforming the image to a bigger, brighter view until its color no longer mattered—only the magnificent light.

  An overwhelming feeling of awe wrapped around Gavin. He fell to his knees. It was as if he had God's personal attention, the audience of the Most High. Gavin trembled, struggling to form words from his thoughts. Burdened for Serena, words burst from his heart to his tongue without thought, and faster than he could have ever dreamed possible. After a while he fell silent, more at peace than he had felt in a long while.

  Footsteps approached from behind. "I thought I might find ye out here." Leith's voice was still hoarse from sleep. He settled beside Gavin. "I prayed for her."

  "Thank ye," Gavin said.

  "Was it as bad as they say? Her fit, I mean?"

  "Aye, but not the way they would have ye believe." Gavin draped his elbows over his knees and linked his fingers. "She stopped breathing. Her body shook, gasping for air. I thought she was dying. I was afraid of losing her. I've never felt so helpless."

  "Well, it doesn't sound like she would h
ave made it without ye. That witless mob would have tied her to the stake without an inquisition of any sort."

  "The vicar plans to question her today. Both he and the earl stayed the night." Gavin rubbed a hand over his face. "I hope she got plenty of rest. She'll need to be clearheaded."

  "Father Tomas stayed as well," Leith said. "After the mob grew weary of the rain and finally left."

  "How is the work on the wall?" Gavin asked.

  "One more month and we should be finished with the outside repairs facing the sea." Leith grabbed his shoulder. "Ye ready to go in and break yer fast?"

  "I suppose I'd better get it over and done with. The earl and I didn't part on friendly terms. I've yet to hear him utter aught that doesn't benefit him in some way." Gavin rose to his feet and stretched his arms high above his head.

  "What do ye think he wants?" Leith asked.

  "Not sure. But I don't trust him." Gavin walked toward the castle. "He seems to have no tolerance for the villagers."

  "Aye." Leith walked beside him. "I've gathered that."

  They entered the side door from the courtyard. The tables in the great hall were already full of biscuits, ham, eggs, and pastries. Candles were lit everywhere. Servants bounced here and there. Both Father Kendrick and Tomas sat across from each other in amiable conversation.

  The laird appeared from the direction of the solar and took his place at the table on the dais. Gavin and Leith settled beside the two clergymen. The only one missing was the earl. Gavin hoped he wasn't searching for Serena.

  "I trust everyone slept well last night." Iain glanced around the room.

  "Aye, verra well." Vicar Kendrick nodded.

  Gavin studied his brown hair and facial features. While he was plain, Gavin guessed him to be in the mid-thirties.

  "And the rest of ye?" Iain glanced at Tomas, Leith, then Gavin.

  "The beds were quite comfortable." Leith said. "I think Gavin enjoys our view of the sea."

  "Oh?" Iain raised his eyebrows. "So ye're in the east wing, then? It is a bonny view."

  The earl strolled in and took a seat beside Iain at the table on the dais. He was well dressed in his dark blue and purple plaid. He looked down upon them from his perch like a king ruling over the underclass.

  "Good morn, gentleman." His cheerful tone was very unexpected after their awkward parting yestereve.

  "Father Kendrick, as our guest, would ye bless the food?" Iain asked.

  Gavin glanced in Tomas's direction, hoping he wouldn't feel slighted, but all he saw was the top of his bald head in a bow.

  Father Kendrick said an honest prayer that was nothing like the recited Latin Gavin expected. When he included Serena and Evelina, Gavin snapped to attention. The man kept his face down, hiding his expression. Afterward, they plowed into the food, dipping healthy portions onto their plates.

  "Speaking of the lass, when will we begin questioning her?" Hogan asked. "I'm assuming she's here . . . somewhere."

  "Only Father Tomas and I will be present," Father Kendrick said. "I'll be the one questioning her. There's no need to drag her through a public inquisition at this time. If my interview discovers aught, then we'll schedule something more formal."

  "I'd still like to be there," the earl said.

  "It's as Vicar Kendrick says," Iain interrupted, putting the matter to rest.

  Gavin sighed in relief, thanking God in his heart that Serena would at least have a fair clergyman.

  Someone kept hammering until Serena reached up and covered her temples. She rolled over, burrowing deep into the comfort of her bed.

  Wait. This wasn't her place in the loft.

  She blinked, allowing her eyes to adjust as an unfamiliar chamber came into view. The stone walls were like a drafty cave even in the midst of summer. No wonder she had burrowed beneath the covers. She lay in the fortified walls of Braigh Castle.

  "Serena! Can ye hear me?" Doreen called through the door. She knocked again.

  "Aye!" Serena choked on her hoarse voice. She needed water. The door flew open and Doreen strode in with a tray. "Goodness, but I thought ye'd never wake up."

  "I'm sorry. I'll hurry down to the kitchen." Serena threw back the covers and swung her legs to the side.

  "Nay, not today ye don't." Doreen set the tray on a nearby table. "My laird gave strict orders that ye're to break yer fast in yer chamber."

  "But," Serena raised a brow, watching her friend, "I feel so lost and out of sorts. I'm used to serving, not being served."

  "After ye retired last night, Father Tomas and Vicar Kendrick arrived from St. Gilbert's Cathedral. Ye're to have a private inquision with them."

  Serena sat in silence, absorbing this piece of news. She had hoped the mob would be discouraged by the storm and give up.

  "Tomas will be there, ye say?" Serena hated how she sounded like a hopeful child, but she couldn't help it. He knew about her condition. She had no doubt that he would defend her and find a way to tell them what they wanted to hear. Tomas understood the kirk, and what would be necessary to save her life.

  "'Tis my understanding. He'll serve as witness and be there for propriety's sake. Father Kendrick says either the matter will be dropped or ye'll suffer a public inquisition with his superiors."

  Serena tried not to allow despair to steal her peace, but it was hard. Her shoulders sagged.

  "I'm sorry 'bout this," Doreen said. "At least the laird forbade their entrance and the MacKenzie men stood by Philip to enforce it." Doreen giggled. "Truth be known, I think it made Philip feel like he was commanding a troop of his own."

  "I imagine it did," Serena said, a bit of mirth easing her heavy heart. "So they left? Without the vicar?"

  "Aye. 'Twould appear so. I think they have the vicar's promise to examine ye." Doreen pushed the tray at an angle. "Now eat. Ye'll need yer strength and wits about ye."

  In obedience Serena turned, bending one leg under the other in better comfort. She leaned forward and peered over the tray, a thick slice of ham, a chunk of bread, and steaming porridge. Serena grabbed the goblet and swallowed the smooth, refreshing cider. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  "I feel better already. Thank ye."

  "Ye're welcome. I hung yer gowns up to dry last night, but they're still damp this morn. I'll bring ye something chaste from my chamber." Doreen turned and strode from the room.

  All too soon Serena finished her meal and Doreen returned with a dark blue gown. It was simple as she'd promised. At least the two of them were similar in size. The only uncomfortable thing that kept annoying Serena was the sleeves. She tried to tug them down at the wrists, but the material would rise when she moved.

  Serena dropped her hands at her side, reared her shoulders and lifted her chin in a mask of confidence she didn't quite feel. "I'm ready." She headed for the door.

  "God be with ye, Serena," Doreen said behind her.

  Afraid to look back lest she falter and lose her courage, Serena didn't acknowledge her friend's parting farewell. Instead, she charged out of her chamber, down the hall, toward the laird's study.

  The door stood ajar. Men's voices carried. One she didn't recognize and the other belonged to Tomas. Her racing heart slowed in relief, but she still had to gulp the rising bile and will the churning of her full stomach to steady herself.