good reason which brings them.”
Faolan finished pleating his kilt and lay down in the middle of the wool to pull the ends of the belt up and around his middle. He stood and used a second belt over the top of the wool to make sure it was secure. Gainor held out his bonnet.
All three feathers on the side of it were raised.
Faolan contemplated it for a moment. A sense of satisfaction built inside him as he took the cap and pulled it onto his head.
The Church had an issue to debate?
Well, he was ready.
*
The three priests stood in the great hall. They’d taken a spot at the top of the steps that led up to the high ground. The hall itself was eerily silent. Which was made worse by the fact that it appeared every McKay Retainer was stuffed into the space to see what the proceedings were to be about.
Cora stepped forward, stopping in front of the men. She put her right foot behind her and bent her knee to lower herself in reverence, holding the position until the priest in the middle raised her.
“Cora Mackenzie, we have some questions for ye,” the priest began.
“Do yer questions need to be asked so publicly?” Faolan asked as he came from the side passageway. He stopped and reached up to tug on the corner of his cap.
“Since the matter pertains to her Christian nature, it is best the clan is afforded the right to hear these proceedings.”
Cora felt her mouth go dry. But she inclined her head. “I am at yer disposal.”
She’d not cower. It was hardly the first time someone had spun unflattering tales about her.
This is the Church, not kitchen gossips…
Cora understood the difference very well, and yet, she caught Faolan’s eye. When he glanced at her, there was a flicker of approval in his blue eyes.
She’d not disappoint him.
By Christ, she would not.
“Who is yer lover, woman?” the priest demanded loudly.
“My what?” Cora asked.
“We just flew a wedding sheet,” Faolan spoke up. “She was a virgin.”
Cora drew in a stiff breath. Her cheeks colored in response to the personal nature of the conversation.
“It was reported this morning that Cora Mackenzie was on the wall last night, in naught but a smock, walking out to meet her lover,” the priest declared venomously. “Ye did nae even keep yer wedding vows a single day.”
There was a shuffling of feet from the men watching. A low rumbling began to fill the hall.
“It was me,” Faolan raised his voice, and half turned to face the assembled McKay. “I was up on the wall with me wife.”
The priests drew in close to one another, exchanging words in hushed tones. The oldest one stood in the middle. He pointed a finger at her.
“Is it true ye were out in the storm in nothing but a smock?”
Cora bit her lip. She drew in a breath to temper her tone. “I woke up and opened the shutters and saw me husband. I did not think anyone else was about.”
The priest grunted.
“I beckoned her forward,” Faolan added. “If ye feel the need to blame someone, it’s me.”
The priest turned to face Faolan. “We wondered if that was the case. There have been great tragedies on McKay land in the last week. Since Cora Mackenzie came to this stronghold, there has been murder.”
“Noreen stabbed her husband,” Faolan argued. “That was witnessed.”
“Yet, she was driven to the action by jealousy,” one of the priests leveled the charge.
“Aye,” Faolan agreed.
“And ye did not consummate yer wedding vows on the night ye took the sacrament? Even coming the morning after to seek an annulment?” the third priest was quick to demand.
There was more rumbling from the McKay. Faolan held up a hand. “Those were my actions.”
The oldest priest looked at Faolan. “Is it true Cora Mackenzie arrived at yer tower during a violent storm?”
Cora felt a chill go down her back. There was no missing the direction the priest was heading in.
“Aye,” Faolan answered clearly. “It is a normal time for such storms.”
“And yet there was another violent storm last night. When Cora Mackenzie awoke alone and craved ye?”
Now the whispers rose higher.
“It is winter,” Faolan replied, his tone tight as he fought for control over his temper.
“Noreen Grant was a gentlewoman,” the older priest spoke again. “Something drove her over the edge into madness. And now we have this report of Cora Mackenzie walking out in a smock in the midst of a storm. Where would any true daughter