The Angel and the Highlander(12)

“Would more voices raised in prayer add to the strength of your vigil?”

He was a sly one; she would have to be more careful around him. “It isn’t the quantity; it’s the belief that gives the prayer strength.”

“Are you accusing me of not being a believer?” he asked.

He did not accuse with a testy tongue, as she had done to him, but rather winsomely.

“Nay, sir, I would never do that,” she said gently and directly met his dark eyes with her blue ones. “When the moment is right, I shall request your assistance in prayer.”

“And I will be at your service,” he bowed gallantly and turned disappearing into the night before Terese could close the door on him.



The bright sun burnt off the mist that had accompanied the dawn, while an unusual warm breeze settled over the land. The pleasant weather had everyone smiling, happy to be busy with outdoors chores on this fine spring day.

Lachlan was pleased with his men’s progress with the two shelters. A few more days and one would be habitable, the other would soon follow.

He had no time to lend a hand. He was more concerned with finding out what he could about the mercenaries. It was time he spoke to Sister Terese and see if she could tell him anything about them.

She had been planting in the field that ran the whole length of the convent, beyond the few structures and bordering the woods on two sides. It was a large field, providing more harvest than the sisters needed, but he imagined that they used the extra to feed the needy. There was also a garden on the side of the common shelter that appeared no one touched but Rowena, having found that out when Boyd entered the area thinking to snatch what looked to be berries. She chased him with a shovel.

The women worked well together, not a one of them complaining no matter what the task. They planted, tended the cows, sheep and horses, chopped wood, spun yarn, and cooked the most delicious meals he and his men had ever eaten. They visited the farms in the area on foot or horse and tended the ill that appeared at their doorstep.

They certainly were self-sufficient and comfortable with their surroundings and not at all fearful. How was it that the farms he and his men had stopped at along the way warned them of mercenaries, yet these nuns seemed unconcerned with their safety?

Mercenaries were known to spare no one—unless, could it be perhaps the nuns somehow had managed to strike a bargain with the band? The sisters were a resourceful lot and were not afraid to tackle any chore. And then, of course, there was their faith.

Lachlan approached Sister Terese with a wave. She stopped her planting and greeted him in similar fashion. She wore a welcoming smile and a large brimmed straw hat that shaded her face from the sun. She had rolled up the sleeves of her tired yellow blouse and had tucked her brown skirt between her legs, hooking the frayed end in her waistband to make it appear she wore pants. Her feet were bare and partially covered with the rich earth, and her slim ankles gave way to muscled calves. He forced his glance up to her face and silently warned his straying thoughts to behave.

“Such a lovely day, isn’t it?” she remarked.

Lovely. That’s what she was—lovely. He almost shook his head in an attempt to clear his musings, but corrected his action before it was too late and agreed with a firm nod.

“It surely is.”

“Then why do you frown?” she asked.

Because I find myself attracted to you beyond measure?

The thought never made it past his lips. Instead, he got straight to his reason for disturbing her work. “I was wondering if you have had any encounters with the mercenaries I heard were in the area.”

“We have been lucky, or rather blessed, since we have not been bothered by them.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“Perhaps they respect the church,” she said.

“Unlikely. They respect nothing but the coins their missions earn them.”

“True enough,” she agreed then shrugged. “But I have no other explanation to offer.”

“Not a one of the mercenaries has darkened your doorstep? Not even an injured one?” Lachlan thought about how his brother Ronan had left Zia’s village still recovering from his wounds and may have sought further care.

“The sisters and I do not question those who seek our help. If one of the ill had been a mercenary we would not have known it.”

Lachlan had to know if his brother had been at Everagis so he asked, “Any man a few inches taller than me, with auburn hair—”

Terese interrupted with a question. “You look for someone in particular?”

Lachlan hadn’t planned on confiding in her about his brother, but then, if he wanted her help, perhaps being truthful was his best choice.