Choosing the Highlander (12 page)

Connie mentally reviewed every interaction between her and Wilhelm. True, there seemed to be something between them, but Aifric made their attraction seem like something far more serious than Connie was prepared for.

It might be nice to explore this thing between her and Wilhelm, but she couldn’t indulge that fantasy. She had to get home. As much as she liked him, they would say their goodbyes in Inverness. She would sever their acquaintance quickly and neatly, and Wilhelm would get on with his life.

But what Wilhelm had told her in the garden worried her. It seemed he was a wanted man. The trip to Inverness wasn’t to bring justice against Ruthven, as she’d assumed, but rather to clear his and Terran’s names.

Anger pulsed through her at the thought of her heroic rescuer standing accused of wrongdoing. It was the height of unfairness and more proof that she had to escape this time as soon as possible.

Things didn’t work the way they did in modern America. Ruthven, it seemed, would get away with the attempted murder of two innocent women. Meanwhile, Wilhelm, a man who gave every appearance of being a force for good in Scotland, was supposed to give testimony to explain why he’d saved her and Aifric?

It was so backwards.

And it made her uneasy. Wilhelm told her not to “fash” about him and Terran, but that was one order she couldn’t obey. The thought of him being punished for his good deed infuriated her. She wouldn’t allow it.

It seemed this trip to Inverness was much more important than she’s realized. As she finished with Aifric’s hair, she determined to fix things for Wilhelm. Maybe it was idealistic of her, but she also wanted to make Ruthven pay for what he’d done. If the law wouldn’t hold him accountable, someone should.

There was no mirror to show Aifric what her hair looked like, but Connie found the effect pleasing. “I’ve swept it into three small buns. Here.” She took one of the girl’s hands and guided it to feel what she’d done. The three knots looked a bit like roses with little bits of hair sticking out here and there like leaves.

“If only I had some ribbon or pretty pins to embellish it with.”

“Oh, it feels divine. My thanks. Terran will love it.”

Connie chuckled. “That man would love you bald.”

Aifric blushed.

“Come on. Let’s get you dressed for your big day. I hope you’ll let me be your bride’s maid.”

By the time she had Aifric fastened into her borrowed gown and a silky ribbon tied with a big bow around Anice’s little head, she was practically vibrating with eagerness to lay eyes on Wilhelm again. Surely this only was because she’d set goals for the near future, and he was key to achieving them, not because she had been intrigued by a young mother’s romantic supposition.

Chapter 10

After satisfying himself that Constance was safe inside the monastery, Wilhelm went in search of Terran. Today would be a grand day for his cousin. Wilhelm wished he could put off sharing with him the unsettling news he’d heard from Anselm before daybreak, but it couldn’t be helped. Their plans would have to change, and Terran would not like the new strategy.

“There you are.” A male voice stopped him on his way to the guest quarters.

’Twas Elias, the young monk he had sent to the village to purchase gifts for his cousin and Aifric. He was a burly youth with tonsured head. He appeared pale. Must be from the cold.

“Just arrived back, aye? Did ye fetch the gifts?”

Elias handed him a parcel. “The book of Ruth for the lass and a fine shaving kit for your cousin. I saw him in the refectory when I arrived.”

“Very well. Thank you, Elias.” He’d given the lad a generous tip for taking on the errand for him. He turned his feet toward the room where the monks dined, but Elias stopped him.

“Wait. There’s somat you should hear. Gossip in the village.”

Wilhelm froze. “What have ye heard?”

“That the baron’s departed for parts north. He’s rumored to have a capias with him, signed by the Bishop of Perthshire.”

Ice cold dread slammed into him. If the rumor was true, it meant Ruthven had wasted no time filing charges against him and Terran. Thanks to Anselm looking into the matter during a brief exeat from the abbey last night, Wilhelm had learned precisely what those charges were likely to be. They were far more serious than Wilhelm and Terran had assumed.

Wilhelm had hoped to find a magistrate to hear their side before formal charges were filed. It seemed this was no longer possible. If the rumors were true, they were now wanted men. This made traveling to Inverness much more dangerous.

A capias would allow Ruthven to arrest them on site. Kenning it had been signed by the bishop confirmed the disappointing news he’d heard from Anselm this morn’.

If Ruthven was heading north, he must mean to find them in Dornoch. Wilhelm hoped the letter he’d written to his father arrived well in advance of Ruthven. The black hearted baron was not a guest one liked to receive without preparation.

“My thanks, Elias.” He made haste for the refectory. Terran must hear of this immediately.

In contrast to the black robed monks with their white head cloths, Terran’s burgundy wool and fair hair were easy to spot. He was also a head taller than the few men bent over their meals and stood out for his size.

Wilhelm tapped his shoulder in greeting since the monks observed silence in the refectory unless the Scriptures were being read, as was custom for the midday and evening meals. A jerk of his thumb in the direction of the guest room they shared indicated Terran should follow him there.

His cousin understood and rose with his trencher, still heaped with eggs and strawberry preserves. Together, they made their quiet way to their quarters.

While Constance and Aifric had been put in rooms far away from the abbey’s residents due to their gender and Aifric’s condition, he and Terran had been given the state room kept for high ranking guests. He’d tried convincing Anselm to put the women in that room since ’twas the finest, but Anselm insisted the old dorter chambers given to the women were a better choice because they abutted the infirmary, where supplies for Aifric would be close at hand. Wilhelm hadn’t failed to notice that wing also happened to be closest to the abbey’s burial yard. Thank God they hadn’t required use of that particular portion of Anselm’s domain.

“Sit,” he commanded Terran once they entered their room. He motioned toward the weapons chest at the foot of the bed they would have shared if Terran had seen fit to leave Aifric’s side at night, which he hadn’t.

“What are ye planning to do to me?” Terran eyed him warily as he polished off his meal.

Wilhelm opened his shaving kit for the second time that morning. “You need a shave. I plan to comb your hair as well. There isna time to wash it, but I’ll tame it with some oil.”

Terran harrumphed and submitted to Wilhelm’s care.

While Wilhelm shaved his cousin, he inquired after Aifric and told him how he’d found Constance in the cloister. He didn’t mention the
tow-ma-tow
plants they’d spoken of, only that she seemed hale and well rested.

He didn’t look forward to telling Terran that their plan to ride as a threesome to Inverness had changed. Best to have it over and done with.

“I leave with Constance after the midday meal.” He braced himself for argument.

“I’ve been thinking,” Terran replied, tilting his chin for the blade. “Why not return home first? Inverness isna far from Dornoch. We could take Aifric. I’ll see her and the bairn safe to our kin. That way, we could speak to Kenrick directly and ride with him to find a magistrate to hear our case. We could even ride out under the banner of the Murray. Make an impression when we arrive.”

Wilhelm understood Terran’s reluctance to be separated from his bride. Fortunately for his cousin, he would have opportunity to remain with Aifric and Anice. But Wilhelm suspected Terran would not like the reason.

“You misunderstand, cousin.”

He plopped a damp rag in Terran’s hands so he could wipe his face. Meanwhile, Wilhelm picked up a comb and began the arduous task of detangling the lad’s lion’s mane. “I said
I
would ride for Inverness. Not
we.
And I’ll not be stopping in Dornoch first.”

Terran had been dodging the pulling of the comb, but at this, he ignored Wilhelm’s grooming and growled, “Listen here. You’ll not be riding anywhere without my protection. We travel together. Always.”

He gripped a hank of Terran’s hair with command. “
You
listen.” He worked the comb’s teeth in short strokes. “I told you the gossip in the village, aye?” Yesterday, he’d gone with two of Anselm’s monks for supplies to aid in Anice’s birth. Since the abbey wasn’t far from Perth, rumors about Ruthven’s gathering had naturally been plentiful. The rescue of the women didn’t feature prominently, but news of the fire did.

“Aye.” Terran huffed with mirth. “If Ruthven hadn’t retreated into his keep, he might have commanded his men to put the fire out before it spread to the kirk. Bloody coward. Serves him right the fire spread as wide as it did.”

Wilhelm agreed. The damage would have been easily contained if Ruthven had taken up command of his men and brought order into the panic. But all that was beside the point. Terran must hear what Wilhelm had learned this morning from Anselm and Elias. “There is more, brother.”

Terran stilled at the affectionate term Wilhelm reserved for nights before battle.

“It seems Ruthven seeks my blood,” he said.

Terran was quiet for a moment. “Is that what they’re saying in the village?” he said at last.

“No. ’Tis what Anselm has heard from a friend he has in the bishop’s retinue. They supped together yester eve, and Anselm told me the news only an hour ago.”

Terran cursed, and it wasn’t because the comb had caught. In fact, Wilhelm had removed the worst of the tangles. He was now combing simply to have somat to do with his hands.

“Tell me,” his cousin demanded. His concern was not misplaced. When the church became involved in the affairs of nobles, no good ever came of it.

Wilhelm put down the comb and removed the cork from a bottle of grooming oil. Rubbing a drop between his palms, he said, “You and I both ken the sensible charges would be instigating and arson. We would appear before the Earl of Perthshire, admit to such, give our reasons, and face losing some of Dornoch’s holdings if we come out on the losing end. But Anselm heard the charge is attempted murder of a clergyman and obstruction of necessary purging by the church. The nature of the crimes mean they’ll be tried by the Bishop of Perthshire instead of a magistrate. Worse, Anselm’s friend passed along the warning that Ruthven has the bishop in his pocket.”

A stream of curses erupted from Terran, who leapt up and stalked back and forth across the room. “First thing a warrior learns is to ne’er lay hands one ordained by the church. We didna touch that poor excuse for a priest. We wouldna have, even if he’d put himself in the path of our swords.”

Terran spoke true. They’d slain the guards and the executioner, but they hadn’t touched the priest, who had fled into the kirk while Ruthven had disappeared into the keep.

“
We
didna touch him, but the fire did. According to Anselm’s friend, Ruthven’s priest was severely burned and might not live.”

“I hope the bastard dies,” Terran spat. “That goes for Ruthven as well.” Not an ounce of mercy in Terran for those who didn’t deserve any.

Wilhelm heartily approved the sentiment. But he must keep them focused on the matter at hand. “Rumor in the village is that Ruthven has ridden for Dornoch to issue a capias for us.”

Terran snorted. “Our kin would never fulfill it. Your father will most likely tear it to bits the moment Ruthven rides away.”

“Mayhap, especially after reading my letter.” Which would his father receive first, Wilhelm’s letter recounting the rescue and requesting Kenrick’s aid or Ruthven’s capias? The messenger had a day’s head start if Ruthven had left Perth this morn.’

“Even if my father ignores the capias, the charges will remain,” Wilhelm reminded his cousin. “We would eventually have to face Ruthven’s bishop, and we would have no hope of swaying him. Our only hope is to meet him action for action. ’Tis more imperative than ever we find a magistrate who will hear our confession and rule justly. Our only defense is an official ruling that can be pitted against the capias in court. Kenrick will help us.

“’Tis vital we avoid Ruthven until then. That is why we must separate. Ruthven canna be in two places. If the worst happens and one of us is arrested, the other can still work with Kenrick and find a magistrate to clear us.” That wasn’t the only reason Wilhelm wanted to leave Terran behind, be he didn’t want to burden the lad with the more important reason on his wedding day.

Hands on hips, Terran faced him. The grooming took. He looked like a man a lass would be proud to wed, except for his scowl. “You put too much faith in fairness, cousin. ’Twould be better to simply track Ruthven and slay the bastard. If we leave now, we can catch him before he reaches Dornoch.”

That would be Wilhelm’s preference as well, but killing Ruthven would ruin his chances at sitting in parliament one day. Terran knew it as well as he did. His cousin did not intend to cut Ruthven down in truth. ’Twas merely a fantasy.

“Aye,” Wilhelm agreed in jest. “Come, let’s saddle the horses. What will ye tell your bride? You’ll wed her when we return, if we escape judgment as murderers?”

Terran snorted and continued his pacing. “Speaking of the women, you claim your Constance will give testimony to aid you, but are you cert she willna attempt to sully your name? Or harm you on the road?”

A growl rose in his throat. He did not appreciate Terran suggesting Constance was capable of trechery.

Terran held up a hand. “Your truth sense told you she considers herself innocent of the crimes Ruthven charged her with, but beyond that, you ken naught of her. You canna be cert her testimony will help our cause. Somat about her is off, Will. Taking her with you could do more harm than good. If we must be separated, you ought to leave both the lasses with me.”