The Angel and the Highlander (5 page)

T
he next day the sisters had a couple of the men move tables from two other buildings outside. By early afternoon they had dressed the tables with fresh blue cloths and began adding platter after platter of scrumptiously scented food. To it they added pitchers of cider and mead.

The men stared from where they worked on the shelters, most wiping sweat from their brows. They were all hungry, since their first meal of the day hadn’t been nearly sufficient enough, but they had yet to receive an invitation to join the sisters.

Terese corrected that as soon as she walked out of the common shelter. She approached Lachlan with a smile, noticing he already wore one. There were few times he didn’t, though in those times, she caught a glimpse of the warrior within him.

For some reason, he fascinated her. She didn’t know why, though it could be his affable nature. Most men she had dealt with were loud and demanding, not so Lachlan. He seemed ready to please whether with word or action and in turn others sought to please him. She
had seen it with his men and the way he handled them, praising, though in command. Even the so-called nuns weren’t impervious to his charm every now and again, and she had to remind them how intoxicating his charisma could be.

She wasn’t adverse to it herself. Yesterday, she had actually enjoyed his company when they talked, though she remained on guard. The man could simply disarm with his clever tongue.

Gooseflesh prickled her skin when she suddenly thought of what it would be like to kiss him. Was she daft? It was a crazy thought and one that should never have entered her head.

She kept her smile bright and her musings on more important matters when she reached him. “We would be pleased to have you and your men join us for the meal.”

A few men licked their lips, others mumbled beneath their breaths, and all of them looked with expectation to their leader.

“They’ll wash up before joining you,” he said and with his order given, the men rushed to obey. “Thank you for the invitation,” he added as his men scurried around him.

“It’s a beautiful day and we have plenty. Such a day should be shared with friends,” she said.

“You think of me as a friend, Sister Terese?”

“All those who come here, we accept as friends,” she said, though gave the notion thought. Was it even possible they could be friends?

“I’d make a good friend,” he said as if wanting to persuade her.

“That is for me to judge.”

He laughed. “True enough.”

“But it is also for you to judge if you deem me worthy enough to call friend.” Surprisingly, he appeared startled and to save the moment from turning awkward, she said, “The food will grow cold. Come and eat.”

He nodded and they walked to the table in silence.

It wasn’t long before a festive atmosphere filled the air and between mouthfuls tales were told, debates were argued, and friendships formed.

Terese knew Lachlan let the men linger instead of rushing them back to work. She was glad for it gave them all a reprieve to simply enjoy each other’s company. And for the first time in five years, she realized that she did miss the company of a man. And she had a feeling the other women were reaching the same realization, all except Megan. There was still apprehension in her eyes, and Terese could only imagine the horrors of what had happened to leave such deep scars.

The men were about to return to work when Megan jumped up from the table and ran. Terese and the other women were right behind her when they saw what had caught her eye. She saw Lachlan signal his men who quickly grabbed their swords and spread out around the convent grounds. Andrew and Boyd joined him as he followed the women.

A man, gaunt and barely able to take another step, was assisted by a woman who looked too old to hold
him. Two children, a lad and lassie around five and eight, their faces dirty and much too thin, held hands tightly and followed behind them.

Megan went to help the man, but Andrew gently eased her out of the way. “I’ll do it,” he said and relieved the old woman of her burden.

Megan instead helped the old woman and Terese went to the children, but they backed away from her with wide, frightened eyes. Even Piper, who children were always drawn two, couldn’t coax them near.

“They joined us along the road, though it took time for them to be able to walk near us,” the old woman explained with a tired breath. “They haven’t spoken a word.”

Lachlan hunched down in front of them and with a broad smile introduced himself. “I am Lachlan of the clan Sinclare.”

There was hesitation, but it seemed that determination took over and the little girl attempted to step forward, though the lad fought to hold her back with a firm hand. She would have none of it and took an exaggerated step. Her red hair was heavy with grime, her face streaked with dirt, and her clothes so worn and tattered there was barely anything left, and her little feet were bare and filthy.

“The Sinclares are brave warriors?” she whispered to Lachlan.

“Aye, that we are, and I can offer you my protection if you will have it.”

Tears stained her soft blue eyes, and she fought bravely not to let them spill. “Truly, you can?”

“I give you my word as a Sinclare warrior,” Lachlan said strongly.

“Will you offer the same to my brother?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering.

“I will protect both of you with my life,” Lachlan said.

The little girl threw herself into his arms and wept.

Lachlan wrapped a firm arm around her, stood and held out his hand to the lad.

“We are grateful, sir,” the lad said then took his hand.

Piper sniffed back tears, Rowena let hers fall, and Hester smiled through tear-stained eyes. Megan remained her stoic self and they all walked to the common shelter.

“Food,” the lad said with desperation when he spied the table with nearly empty platters.

“I think it would do well if we feed them all before seeing to their care,” Terese said and nodded to Hester and Rowena to bring more food.

As they settled the four at the table, Terese heard Lachlan whisper orders to Boyd.

“Take some men and check the area for others or for trouble,” he ordered, sending Evan as well.

Terese looked to Piper and she took off, though not in the same direction as Evan.

The little girl sat on Lachlan’s lap while she ate; grabbing hold of his hand every now and again as if to make certain he was still there.

While the children and two adults ate their fill, Terese and Lachlan talked with them. The other
women prepared to tend them and provide them with fresh clothes.

“I am Beatrice and my brother is Harry,” the little girl informed them.

The older woman was Frances and the man Henry.

Beatrice glowed when Megan handed her a sweet cake. She was about to tear it in two to share with her brother when Megan handed him one.

“All for me?” Beatrice asked with wide eyes.

“All for you,” Megan assured her.

Beatrice said no more, too busy enjoying her treat.

It wasn’t until the children went inside the common shelter, Lachlan having had to walk Beatrice in and promise her she would be safe, and that he would be right outside, that Terese and he spoke freely with Frances and Henry.

“Once the sisters are done with the children, they will tend you both,” Terese said. “At the moment, however, we’d like to know what happened to all of you?”

Henry explained. “Frances and I found each other along the road in the wake of two warring clans. They’re taking food and whatever else they need from the farmers while they wage their war.” He wiped tears from his eyes. “I lost my wife.”

“I, my husband of thirty years,” Frances said sorrowfully.

“I’m so sorry for your losses, but I must ask, does the fighting spill past the boundaries?” Lachlan asked.

Henry shrugged. “They’d have to make it past the mercenaries.”

Lachlan leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

“There’s a band of mercenaries who are making their presence known in the area,” Henry said. “From what’s been heard they’re fierce warriors and claim what they will. It’s really what started the clans to warring.”

“How so?” Lachlan asked.

“One thought the other hired the violent band to help conquer.” Henry shook his head. “But it was the clan leaders’ fears and hatred for each other that provoked the start of it all and then…” He shrugged again.

“It escalated out of control,” Lachlan said knowingly.

“Now the mercenaries sit by and wait,” Henry said.

Frances nodded in agreement. “And then they will finish it all and our lands will be forever lost to us.”

Night settled over the land. The children had long fallen asleep, exhausted from their ordeal. Frances and Henry had also dropped into a dead sleep after the sisters had seen to their care, offering baths and clean garments. Lachlan’s warriors had found nothing, and Evan confirmed the same when he returned. Not a trace of anyone in sight.

Still Lachlan could not sleep. He felt unsettled, as if there was something he should know, but could not grasp. He sat by the campfire warmed by its flames, the night having chilled considerably. His men slept around him, with a few standing sentry around the convent.

He caught the moving shadow out of the corner of his eye, and it took him a moment to realize that it was Sister Terese. She blended with the night shadows to slip silently along the edge of the woods.

Lachlan didn’t give it a thought; he followed her. It was much too late for her to be up and about, especially going off alone. He worried over her safety, but more he wondered where she was going and why.

He came upon her sitting on a boulder looking over the entrance of the woods and what he imagined would be a perfect spot to be at sunrise. But it was far from sunrise, so why was she here?

She sat with arms wrapped around raised knees, a dark green wool shawl draped around her and her hair was free of the usual braid she wore. It fell to her waist and glistened like strands of shimmering silk in the full moon’s light.

His tightening loins suddenly warned him to leave, get away, do anything but approach her.

“You’re welcome to join me if you’d like,” Terese said.

Oh lord, that was all he needed…an invitation.

Of course, he accepted and was soon sitting next to her. “Is this a favorite spot of yours?”

“I come here when I can’t sleep or at sunrise,” she answered, on a yawn.

“I know the feeling,” he admitted and found himself wanting to draw closer to the heat of her body, but respectfully kept his distance.

“There’s a distinct chill in the air tonight,” she said and stretched out her legs to wrap her shawl more tightly around her.

How he wished he could wrap his arm around her, draw her near and keep her warm against him, wrapped solidly in his arms.

You will definitely burn in hell, Lachlan Sinclare.

He continued to heed the warning and asked, “Why can’t you sleep?”

She shrugged.

He sensed she knew, but didn’t wish to discuss it.

“And you?” she asked. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Because you haunt my thoughts
. He couldn’t speak the answer aloud so he also shrugged.

“Too many thoughts that need vanquishing?” she asked.

“Precisely,” he agreed and wondered if her musings were as improper as his. He became curious and asked, “Why did you join the convent?”

She took a moment to answer him. “I truly had no choice.”

“Why?” he asked, now even more curious.

“I had no place to go, no place to feel safe.”

“Why?”

She turned and smiled softly. “Now it is you who ask why too much.”

“Guilty,” he admitted. “But also curious.”

She hesitated.

“I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s all right. It’s just a bit difficult for me to
talk about,” she said and continued. “My family didn’t want me. I was a burden to them.”

Damn if he didn’t feel a stab to his heart. How could someone so beautiful and selfless be a burden? He didn’t think when he blurted out, “That’s utter nonsense.”

Her smile brightened. “You say what a friend would say.”

Since there could be nothing more than friendship between them, he was grateful for the acknowledgment and wanted her to know the same. “I am your friend.”

“That is good to know.”

“You can count on me if ever you are in need,” he assured her.

“That is generous of you, I shall remember that.”

“You have not heard at all from your family?” he asked.

Again she hesitated, wrapping her arms tightly around her chest as if protecting herself. He could only imagine the painful memories that must haunt her.

She shook her head. “You are lucky to have such a loving family.”

“They have their moments,” he admitted with a laugh.

“Your mother and father must be proud.”

His smile faded along with his laughter. “My father has passed.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her hand gently resting on his arm, offering comfort.

Her warm flesh and tender touch tempted, but it
was her sincere empathy that caused his desire to soar…much too high. That she truly had a caring heart fired his passion beyond belief, and he wanted nothing more than to bury her in his embrace.

Instead he maintained control, though with great difficulty.

“You must miss your father,” she said.

“I do,” he admitted, realizing it had been the first time he had voiced it. “I truly do. He was a loving father, a great man and a wise laird.”

She patted his arm. “He must have been a loving father, for you spoke it before anything else.”

“You’re right.” He nodded slowly realizing how true it was. “My father always had time for me and my brothers, and especially my mother. They were inseparable.”

“Raised with such love, I’m surprised you don’t look for it yourself. Or perhaps you do and don’t know it.”

Her hand drifted away from him and he suddenly felt chilled, as if all warmth had gone with her. And oddly enough, he wondered if she could be right. In his endless quest of women, could he truly be searching for love?