a good suspicion. This wasn’t the first time he’d been disliked, even hated, because of how he looked. It worked in the opposite way for most people. They liked him without ever knowing him. It was often more of an annoyance than helpful.
“I know your kind, Captain. You get through life on your physical beauty. You beguile and bewitch and always have your way. But I tell you, she will be set apart for God next spring. She is His. Beguile her at your peril.”
Galeren wanted to smile at her. Father Timothy wouldn’t agree, of course. Not about God, at least.
“I will remember yer warnin’.” He gave her a slight bow and turned to leave.
“’Tis not my warning but God’s.”
He stopped and slowly turned to her. “In that case, He will tell it to me directly. Or do ye think yerself so pious and above reproach that He will only speak to ye?” He’d given her a moment to answer and then turned once more to leave. “She will be safe with me. That is my vow.”
And he would keep it.
He would confess to Father Timothy in a letter tonight how he took pleasure in looking directly into Sister Mary Joseph’s eyes when he put her novice in his lap and encircled her in his arms then rode off with her.
All his letters could be delivered home to the MacPherson stronghold by a paid messenger. His aunt, Julianna, used to be one. He didn’t write as often as he should, and he never received a reply. Father Timothy didn’t know where Galeren would be next.
He never wrote to Cecilia. He barely thought of her. He didn’t think of her now.
He smelled the ocean and felt it in the air. They were going to pass the cliffs. It was a good place to stop for prayer. When they grew close, he felt her body stiffen against him.
“Is this a good place to stop?” he asked over her head.
“Aye,” she nodded. “Tis a very good place.” She turned and, before he could look away, smiled at him.
He smiled stiffly then turned to the others. “We will stop here fer prayer.”
“Fer prayer?” Mac croaked, quite stunned, as if Galeren had suggested they ride into some English town and hand over their weapons.
“He doesna mean ye, ye savage simpleton,” Will pointed out with a curl of his lips. “He means the nun.”
“She isna yet a nun,” Galeren reminded them. They all shifted their gazes to him. He ignored them, defenseless against the memory of her here this morning, with her fiery locks whipping across her forehead.
He dismounted and held his arms up to her. He kept his gaze on his men or the distant water rather than on her while she reluctantly fell into his arms. She was slender, as light as a veil. She felt small in his hands, and yet she was only several inches shorter than he.
He almost gave in and smiled when he set her down. “We will wait here,” he offered.
She nodded and hurried to the edge.
His heart beat madly watching her run. Was she going to run to her death? Had he just made a terrible error in judgment?
He opened his mouth to call her back—
“Cap?”
She didn’t jump but walked to the edge and knelt in the grass.
He blinked and turned to Mac. “Aye?”
“What has come over ye?”
“What d’ye mean?
“Ye seem agitated.”
Galeren eyed him and the rest of them. “She distracts me.” He shrugged it off with a grin.
“Who distracts ye, the novice?” Will asked, squinting his eyes at him. “Her?”
Galeren nodded and Mac opened his eyes wide. “What? Did the prioress put a curse on ye?”
“No one cursed—” Galeren tried.
Mac stopped him. “She is English.”
“Aye, I know.”
“And promised to God,” Morgann added.
“And what aboot Cecilia?” from Will.
“Aye, what will ye do aboot that?” Mac put to him.
“I…” What was he going to do about what? “I will do nothin’ because there is nothin’ to do anythin’ aboot.” He laughed finally at how far this had gone and so quickly. Padrig joined him. “This is a ridiculous conversation.”
“Captain?”
“Aye, Will?” Galeren’s laughter faded and he sighed inwardly.
“What aboot her distracts ye? There isna one thing feminine aboot her.”
Galeren wasn’t sure if Will’s sight was failing him. He took offense on her behalf and thought about glaring at his friend, but that would have piqued their interest even more, so he untied one of the sacks tied to his horse and smiled. “Who wants a peach? I think we are