Page 23 of The Guardian’s Bride (Highland Secrets #3)

A edan would take no chances as their caravan rumbled toward Dunfermline.

A caravan indeed, made up of guards, horses, a curtained van carrying the women and the boy, and an open cart filled with bags and belongings. Aedan rode beside Sir Patrick, and several guards surrounded the van and cart. The journey took most of the afternoon, but the women were content, his son enjoyed the adventure—and Rowena was glad to ride rather than sail. In Dunfermline, he knew the guards would take the van and cart to the quay to meet Brian Lauder at the longship and load the things aboard. The women wanted a little time in the town and would take Colban while he and Sir Patrick met with the abbot and the bishop.

As they rode, he was ever watchful of the view of the firth to his left and the hills to his right. Soon the town with its abbey and market cross were visible in the distance, and he began to relax a little.

He would not rest easy until his kinswomen and his small son were well on their way to Bass Rock with Sir Brian—and he and Rowena were riding to Kincraig Castle at last. What might come after that, he could not say.

Finally, they followed a drovers’ track beside a wide stream with dense forestland on the other side, and reached the town’s main thoroughfare. They headed up a hill toward the abbey, stopping on the lawn stretching between the church and the abbot’s house.

In a way, he felt at home here too, and breathed in relief as he dismounted and walked toward the van. Rowena peeked out of the curtain—and in that instant, she was all he saw, until Colban peered out beside her, and the sun seemed to come out in his day, though the sky was as gray as Rowena Keith’s eyes.

Massive stone pillars and high rounded stone arches, carved and painted with geometric patterns, soared to a wooden vaulted ceiling. Rowena craned her head to look up at a broad stone pillar incised with chevrons. As she touched the stone, her skin took on the colors shining down from the stained glass in the clerestory above. Smiling, she turned slowly, taking in the peace.

Having the ancient church to herself for a little while was an unexpected joy. Aedan and Sir Patrick had gone into the abbot’s house, while the guards took the cart the three miles to the quay at Queensferry. Lady Jennet, Marjorie, and Colban had gone to the market square to visit some of the shops, but Rowena had decided to wait for Aedan, who said he would meet her inside the church.

Her steps echoed on the slate floor as she moved down the nave toward its east end. The tranquility was palpable and restorative. For centuries, this place had absorbed prayers, plainsong, and hymn beyond measure, and she felt its healing peace now.

As she walked, an old Irish hymn came to her as if it reverberated from the very pillars. She began to hum, trailing a hand over the enormous pillars as she passed.

“Be Thou my vision, oh Lord of my heart,” she sang softly. Then she saw the extension in the chapel wall where the tombs of Queen Margaret and King Malcolm Canmore sat. On a marble plinth, Margaret’s tomb was shaped like a huge reliquary covered in bright paint and golden trim.

Afternoon light poured like rainbows through stained-glass windows, and as she walked, the song came to her again. She sang quietly, her voice soft in the silent church.

“Be thou my best thought in the day and the night,” she sang in a near whisper, “waking and sleeping, be my light—”

“Be thou my breastplate, my sword for the fight,” sang a deep voice behind her. “Be thou my armor, my true might.”

She whirled. Aedan was there, his face touched with amber light from the high windows. His voice was mellow and rich and beautiful.

“Oh!” she gasped, hand to her heart. “Oh, you do have a beautiful voice.”

“I sang plainsong as a lad. It made my aunt proud. The abbot wanted me in the monastery just to keep his monks in tune. Not for me, but I did like the singing.”

“Plainchant is a heavenly sound.”

“Good for any soul, hey.” He brushed back a waft of her hair, spiraling loose of its braid. She had given up the kerchief, and the freedom felt good.

When she was with him, she just wanted to smile. Even when things went awry, what existed between them now felt new and good and strong. She felt she was learning something from his cheerful strength to add to her more serious nature.

He leaned to kiss her brow. “I came here to tell you that I will meet with the abbot and Patrick and Bishop Lamberton for a bit. If you want to go to the market fair, I can take you down the hill to find Marjorie and Aunt Jennet and Colban.”

“Is there an apothecary shop in town? I need to replenish some herbs and such.”

“There is. What mysterious cures do you have in mind?” He grazed his fingers over her cheek, slid his hand along her jaw. His touch went through her like soft lightning, and she lifted her head as his fingers shaped her jaw, then he leaned to kiss her cheek, sliding to cover her lips with his. She looped her arms around his neck and curved toward him as he pulled her tightly to him.

“Kissing in a church! I must have missed a wedding,” came a male voice.

Rowena broke away to look past Aedan, who turned. A man stood in the shadow of a pillar, wearing a black tunic and shoulder cape with a large silver cross hanging down on a thick chain—not a cleric, she realized, but a bishop. He was a short man with a belly like a barrel, iron-gray hair shaved at the crown, and a whimsical grin. He rather looked like an elf, Rowena thought. She loved his laugh as he came forward.

“Reverend Sir!” Aedan said. “Lady Rowena, this is William Lamberton, Bishop of Saint Andrews and Fife.”

“Excellency,” she murmured, taking his offered hand, bowing her head a little.

“So this is Lady Rowena, Sir Robert’s daughter!” Lamberton took her hands in both of his. “Aedan told me about you.” His dark eyes twinkled as he looked at Aedan. “So, this is the healer you spoke of just now in the house? The one you nearly married?”

“She is, sir.”

“Something has changed here, I think. Or did my eyes fool me just now?”

“Your eagle eyes never miss a thing, Reverend Sir. I wish you had made more noise when you entered,” Aedan laughed.

“You would not have heard. And before the tomb of sainted Queen Margaret! Though she had eight children and was no stranger to love and passion with her warrior-king,” he added with a chuckle.

Aedan laughed too, a warm echo. Blushing, Rowena looked from one to the other, sensing the affection there. She could see that the bishop who had raised Aedan and mentored him to become a scholar and a fine man had also taught him the example of cheerfulness. She could not help but smile at both.

The bishop scratched his balding head. “I owe you both an apology. I was wrong.”

“Wrong?” Rowena asked, puzzled.

“You should have married each other. I stood in the way, but I was mistaken. I see that you, my lady, are just the one for this brawny lad.”

“How do you know that, sir?” Aedan asked.

“Look at those eyes, shining like stars.” He gave Rowena a jolly smile, his cheeks pink. “Love! I see love and joy there. This is just what I needed today. I spent months in an English tower wondering if I would ever see Scotland again. I have just returned and the best thing I have seen, other than Scottish soil and sky, is you two.”

She was beginning to adore this man. The bishop was outspoken about his views on Scottish independence and had not hesitated to wield a sword to lead his followers, resulting in his arrest. She saw that feisty spirit in him.

“So,” Lamberton went on, “when is the wedding? Shall we do it now?”

“Now?” Rowena blinked in surprise.

“I have not done a proper wedding for years. Bishops, you know,” he said to Rowena. “But I would perform this one.”

“We only just decided,” she said. “We would want family with us.”

“She is a planner, this one, and will put your sorry soul in order, lad,” he told Aedan, who chuckled. “We can fix the betrothal today and post the banns if you like.”

“Lady Rowena?” Raising his brows, Aedan looked at her.

“I am agreed,” she said, her glance lingering on his.

“Good! I will have the abbot’s clerk write up the banns and post them on the west portal. Remember, you two,” the bishop gave them a knowing glance, “by Scots law, if an unwed couple knows each other with consent, their marriage is already fixed in the eyes of God and therefore the law.”

Rowena blushed fiercely; the bishop seemed to miss nothing.

“With the banns posted, we can arrange a wedding whenever the lady wants,” Aedan said, avoiding a direct answer to that remark.

“Now to other matters,” Lamberton said. “Aedan, we are ready to meet. I heard news in London that I want you to take to the Guardians when you can.”

“Aye, sir. Lady, will you go down to the market while I am gone?”

“I will stay here a little longer. It is so peaceful. And I owe Saint Margaret my thanks and prayers,” she said, thinking of the little bottle of healing water in her embroidered purse. “If you are not back soon, you can find me with the others.”

“Margaret will hear your prayers.” The bishop smiled and went toward the door.

“So,” Aedan said, taking her arm, “according to Scots law, we are as good as wed.”

“I would like a ceremony with family, would you?”

“I would. Whatever you wish, we will do.”

“If you wish it too.” She rose for a kiss. “Hurry back.”

In the royal chapel that extended past the altar, Rowena knelt beside the marble plinth that supported Margaret’s large, beautifully decorated tomb. Every Scottish child knew that Queen Margaret answered Scottish pleas and assisted women especially. Long ago, as an English princess stranded in Scotland, Margaret married King Malcolm Canmore to become an exemplary queen, wife, mother, and pious soul who died of heartbreak when her husband and eldest son perished in the same battle. Years later, another son, also a king, built the chapel and petitioned Rome to declare his mother a Scottish saint despite her English origins. She was dearly loved, Rowena thought.

Rising from her prayers, she whispered thanks for protection from her troubles of late and asked blessings for those she loved, adding thanks for the healing water, and a final wish for peace in Scotland. But she knew that without some of these troubles, she might never have found Aedan. Now she could not imagine life without the vital, somewhat unpredictable man, who made her feel loved and changed for the better.

She wondered how long Aedan might be, and if she had time to go to the market square and come back before he returned to look for her.

Hearing a door and footsteps out in the nave, she was startled. Was he back so soon? But the rhythm of the steps did not belong to Aedan; she knew his gait now. Another man was coming this way—two, she realized, perhaps three, for she heard uneven steps, the chink of chainmail and the thunk of heavy footfalls.

Fear flashed through her; she dared not be discovered here unless she knew who they were. Slipping behind Margaret’s tall, canopied tomb, she stood in the narrow space between the marble catafalque and the wall.

“No one is here.” The voice was familiar. She narrowed her eyes. Another man answered in a low, indistinct murmur, and the first man spoke again, louder.

“What do you mean, the abbot refused to see us? We are here by king’s orders!”

Malise Comyn! Gasping, Rowena covered her mouth to smother the sound.

“The clerk said the abbot was meeting with Scottish officials and then would be at his prayers. He told us to return tomorrow.” The second voice was clearer now, unfamiliar, but Scottish as well. The other had not yet spoken. Their steps and voices echoed as they walked up the nave.

“Abernethy! Did you ask after MacDuff?” Malise demanded.

“We did, but the clerk said he has not been here for months. The clerk would not even permit Brother Hugo to see the abbot.”

“Even me,” Hugo confirmed.

Shocked, Rowena leaned to hear more. The fact that Brother Hugo and Abernethy were here with Malise meant only trouble. The English galley had not sailed away after all. If they saw Brian Lauder’s longship in the harbor at North Queensferry, that might prompt them to search in Dunfermline if Malise was unconvinced.

“The clerk refused even when I said our orders were from the king. He was unimpressed,” Hugo went on.

“Because they regard Bruce as their king now, the fools,” Malise said in a sour tone. “This church seems deserted. If MacDuff did come to Dunfermline, he would be recognized, but they might protect him. That clerk likely lied to you.”

In the shadows, hearing footsteps, Rowena prayed they would not come closer.

“We saw Castle Black from the water, but I want to ride there,” Malise said. “I suspect MacDuff and the Keith girl did come to Fife, though Lauder said otherwise. He knew something, I suspect.”

“The lieutenant at Stirling said MacDuff could be anywhere,” Abernethy said. “Perhaps they went west to Kincraig.”

“I am not welcome there, but you can go there, Abernethy. You need to hire horses. Promise the Crown will pay later and let the stable worry about getting the coin.”

“What about the MacDuff boy?” Brother Hugo asked.

“That has to wait. I want MacDuff and the girl. They have gone to ground somewhere, but where?”

The footsteps faded as they walked away. Rowena waited, trembling, sick about the threat that had come to this peaceful place—and she dreaded what might happen if Aedan encountered them, for he would not hesitate to confront them on behalf of his son, his home, and his loved ones.

All seemed quiet, so she slipped out of the chapel to peer down the nave. At the far end of the church, she saw the glint of steel and a flash of color as Malise and the others stepped into a side chapel. Somehow, she had to get out without being seen so she could warn Aedan. Moving on silent feet, she ducked behind a pillar and paused. Both arms of the church had side doors, but she might be visible if she ran to either.

Then she heard the sound of the main door and a flurry of footsteps on slate. “Rowena! Rowena! Are you here?” A high, light, dear voice called out.

Colban! Heart in her throat, a fierce need to protect the child eclipsing all else, she moved away from the pillar and rushed down the nave.