Page 16 of Jack (Highland Outlaws #1)

J ack had first encountered Bishop Lamberton in the wake of the massacre when he, along with Quinn and Alec, set out to hunt one morning, leaving Rose, Rory, and Ian behind to tend to dozens of newly orphaned children they had hidden in the woods.

When they spied the bishop’s carriage approaching, Jack and his brothers hid their bows and full quivers in the brush to conceal that they’d been hunting on monastic land.

As the carriage drew closer, Jack met the bishop’s gaze.

To his surprise, the holy man signaled for his carriage to stop.

In that moment, fear had clutched Jack’s heart. So many were dependent on their care.

“Be ready to run,” he’d said under his breath to Quinn and Alec when the bishop stepped down from the carriage.

He was an impressive figure—tall and broad-shouldered, with a full beard streaked with grey.

His eyes were bright and penetrating, but kind.

Right away, he had bidden them not to be afraid and asked what they were doing on monastic land.

Before too long, he’d been able to pull the truth from Jack.

As Bishop Lamberton listened to Jack’s recounting of the massacre, his expression shifted from solemn to sorrowful. At first, Jack had been wary of the bishop’s motives, but as he continued to pour out his story, a wave of relief washed over him. Suddenly, he felt unburdened.

After Jack had finished, the bishop placed a hand on his shoulder. “Like countless others, you and your family have been through a great deal,” he said, his voice gentle. “But you are not alone, and you never will be.”

With those words of comfort, for the first time since the massacre, he’d felt a glimmer of hope.

Believing the bishop’s concern for Scotland’s children to be genuine, Jack led the holy man through the woods to their hastily made camp.

Bishop Lamberton held true to his word and opened his arms to the children, comforting them with kind words and prayers.

Later that day, the bishop had taken Jack to meet with the abbot at the monastery. Abbot Matthew not only gave permission to Jack and his band of youthful exiles to remain on monastic lands, but he also gave them food and supplies.

Jack soon realized that he’d made two powerful allies.

After that first meeting, the bishop visited regularly.

On one occasion, he had arrived when the MacVie brothers were practicing swordplay with sticks, their favorite pastime since they were lads.

To Jack’s surprise, the bishop left after only a brief stay, but he returned later that day with swords for each of them.

Taking Jack aside, the bishop put his arm around him and said, “I have a proposition for you and your brothers.”

Jack leaned forward to listen as the bishop dropped his voice.

“I am part of a network of secret rebels. Beneath the very nose of King Edward, we are rebuilding Scotland’s army.

” He placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I wish for you and your brothers to join me and take up your place as sons of Scotland.”

“What can we do?” Jack remembered asking. “We are fishermen, not warriors.”

The bishop had chuckled in reply. “Trust me, my son. You have the skill given to you by the good Lord.” Then he took Jack’s hand and solemnly wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his new sword. “Now, you have the tools, which I am giving to you.”

Less than a week later, the bishop returned, only this time he brought five black masks and five shirts of gleaming black mail.

And so, the Saints were born.

With the support of Bishop Lamberton and Abbot Matthew, Jack and his brothers became highwaymen for a higher cause.

By robbing the English nobility riding north into Scotland, Jack provided for the children in his charge and contributed toward the bishop’s first concern—fighting for Scottish independence.

Nearly five years had passed since the Saints first began their watch over Scotland’s borders, and all that while, Jack had always looked forward to a visit from the bishop.

But this time was different.

Now, his heart felt heavy, for he knew the bishop had come to address the matter of the English lady in their company.

As Jack approached the holy man with Bella on his arm, the bishop made the sign of the cross and blessed them both before turning his attention to Bella. “Are you well, my lady?”

Bella dipped in a low curtsy. “I am, Your Excellency.”

The older man flashed Jack a brief smile. “I trust that my friends have shown you every due respect.”

Jack cringed inwardly when he remembered Alec’s suggestion to throw Bella into the hole, not to mention Jack’s stolen kisses. He closed his eyes, waiting for Bella to confess all to the good bishop, but she merely smiled. “They have all behaved like perfect gentlemen.”

Jack looked down at her. Her eyes locked with his and did not waver.

Bishop Lamberton cleared his throat, snaking Jack’s attention. “Our present circumstances are serious. You were right not to leave the lady defenseless in the wood, but she cannot remain here even a moment longer.”

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I believe the situation is more dire and complex than any of us know.”

The bishop held up his hand to silence Jack. “The abbot told me about the attack, and I agree with you that it was not a simple robbery.”

“Which is why I believe she is safest here,” Jack said, interrupting. “No one knows of our camp.”

“Aye,” the bishop replied. “And we would like to keep it that way.” His voice dropped.

“Listen to me, Jack. Word will soon spread that she is missing. If she is not returned, then everyone will conclude that she’s been murdered, which is all Edward’s warmongering nobles need to justify an end to our tentative peace.

” Then the bishop turned to Bella. His expression softened.

“Anyway, I’m certain our lady is eager to return home. ”

Jack’s gaze drifted to Bella’s delicate features as she stared at the bishop. When Bella failed to reply, the bishop stepped closer. But then her attention shifted to Jack and their eyes locked. Within the depths of her pale green eyes, he saw a reflection of his own inner turmoil.

WHEN BELLA HAD FIRST set out on her own with Jack, walking side by side along the gently flowing river, she’d felt an aliveness she hadn’t known for years. The wind had lifted her unbound hair; the sun had caressed her face, and he had awakened her—body and soul.

For so very long, she had felt alone in her suffering, unable to forget the past and fearful of a future with nothing in it but a loveless marriage.

In the short time that she had spent with Jack and his family, she had begun to feel a flicker of true hope.

It was as if she was experiencing life for the first time, but she knew going home meant an end to it all.

All the laughter and freedom. She cast her gaze at Jack’s face—all the passion.

More than anything, she wanted to hold on to the moment, but she knew that was impossible. Listening to Jack and the bishop, she knew there was more at stake than her own happiness.

“The bishop is right, Jack. I understand why you think it dangerous for me to go, but innocent people could suffer if I stay.”

A look of determination lit Jack’s eyes. “Then I will take ye.”

“You,” the bishop scoffed, drawing both their gazes.

“You who are an exile and rebel. That is a truly dreadful idea. The only thing worse would be to include your brothers in your folly. Then you can all be captured and hung together.” The bishop shifted his gaze to Bella and took her hand.

“Listen to me, my lady. Abbot Matthew will take you. I’ve instructed him to tell your father that you were found by men of his order in the wood and that you’ve been safeguarded within the monastery, which, by the by,” he said, glancing at Jack before turning to once more meet her gaze, “is where you will sleep tonight.” Then a smile crinkled the bishop’s kind eyes.

“The less the good abbot has to lie, the better. Although,” he said, continuing with a wink, “to combat the tyranny of men, even the godliest must bend the rules.” He offered her his arm.

“Come, Lady Redesdale. I shall take you to the monastery myself. You leave tomorrow at first light.”

The bishop had a firm grasp on Bella’s arm. As he stepped toward his carriage, panic seized her. She jerked away.

“Is there something the matter, my child?” the bishop asked, turning back to look at her with questioning eyes.

Her mind raced. She knew that she should go with him. More than that, she ought to have been relieved, but she wasn’t. Then she met Jack’s dark eyes and knew he was the reason her feet refused to move.

He was like no man she had ever met. She thought of the many children he had saved and all he had suffered.

He understood pain yet refused to be overcome by it.

He had given her comfort and hope and showed her how to live again.

He was still a thief, a commoner, and a Scotsman, but he was also a hero.

Her hero.

“Lady Redesdale,” the bishop said.

She tore her eyes from Jack’s and looked at the bishop. “We must away,” he urged her. “No good can come of you staying here a moment longer. No good for anyone,” he said with a pointed look at Jack.

She nodded, desperately trying to fend off the tears that pooled in her eyes.

This was it—she had to say goodbye to Jack and never see him again.

She’d be sent back to Berwick, confined within the walls of her home until she married Hugh.

Being a lady meant she couldn’t marry a Scottish thief—no matter how captivating.

“Lady Redesdale,” the bishop said with stern urgency.

She jerked her eyes once more away from Jack’s.

“Forgive me, Your Excellency,” she whispered.

Then she turned back to Jack. There was so much that she wanted.

..nay...that she needed to say, but the words remained lodged in her throat.

On trembling legs, she dipped into a low curtsy.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper. “For everything.” Then she turned and followed the bishop.

The older man climbed inside his carriage and offered her his hand.

She reached out, but then her breath hitched as someone grabbed her from behind.

She was jerked around and saw a flash of Jack’s black eyes the instant before his lips claimed hers and the world fell away.

Her soul cried out, knowing it had found its mate.

His lips molded to hers. His scent engulfed her.

She longed never for the moment to end. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she gave herself over to him.

In that moment, she knew that the angels had put her in Jack’s path.

But they were not in heaven where angels dwelled. They lived in a world where kings reign and birth dictated one’s station.

Jack tore his lips away. His breath coming in great heaves.

The bishop cleared his throat, breaking the spell. “Lady Redesdale,” he said firmly. “That will have to be enough. It is time to go.”

It could never be enough!

Jack stepped away, his black eyes burning through her soul. She sat beside the bishop, all the while never breaking eye contact with Jack. She watched him as the carriage pulled ahead. She traced every line of his broad shoulders and strong features into memory.

“Drink your fill, my lady,” the bishop said softly at her side. “For you will never see him again.”

As the carriage moved further away from Jack’s camp, Bella sat in silence, the wind bringing with it the scent of the forest and the feeling of Jack’s lips on hers.

A hollow pit formed in her stomach as her thoughts circled around to what might have been, and she knew beyond a doubt that she was leaving a part of herself behind with Jack.