Chapter 5
Not Appropriate For A Convent
Freya frowned. “Are ye allowed to do that?”
“Tell her it’s me,” Brendan responded grimly. “She’ll see me, I guarantee it.”
Freya glanced around helplessly, looking for someone more senior. Could she just usher a man into the depths of the convent? She thought not.
Her prayers were answered. Perhaps that was due to being in a convent, too. Sister Rosemary materialized, her round face flushed and sweaty from the heat of the kitchen. She eyed Brendan up and down, glancing between him and Freya.
“What is it, then?” she asked crisply.
“I need to see the Abbess,” Brendan responded.
To Freya’s amazement, Sister Rosemary’s face hardened, and she gave a short nod.
“Very well. She’s in her study. Freya, ye can take him there, can’t ye?”
She blinked, a little surprised at being addressed. “I-I think so. I’ve been there once, I think I know my way.”
“Very well. Off ye go then, both of ye. And Freya?” she added, as the two made to move past her. “Tell no one of this. Ye understand?”
Freya led him out of the crowded kitchens, and into the darker, much cooler corridor.
At this rate, she thought, I’m going to miss supper altogether.
He walked alongside her, back straight, gaze fixed ahead. She barely came up to his shoulder. He didn’t speak, and the silence hung heavily over them both.
Freya had never enjoyed silence. She always felt obliged to say something, to break the quiet, to keep the conversation going. Silence was dangerous because you never knew where your thoughts were going to go.
“Do ye generally visit convents after dark, then?” she asked at last.
He shot her a quick glance. “Only if I need to.”
“And ye say the Abbess will see ye?”
“Aye, I reckon she will. She knows me, and she knows I wouldn’t be here without a good reason.”
“What’s the reason?”
Brendan hesitated, glancing down at her. “None of yer concern.”
“It is a bit, if it’s related to the convent. The place I’m living in.”
“For now.”
“For now,” she conceded. “But still.”
Brendan said nothing. He turned on his heel, striding ahead. She was forced to jog to keep up with him.
“If ye know where ye are going,” she called after him, “Why do I have to show ye around?”
“It’s for the look of the thing. Men aren’t allowed in nunneries.”
Freya snorted, puffing for breath already. “I’m getting the feeling that the nuns in this convent do a lot of things they aren’t meant to do.”
Brendan shot a look back at her over his shoulder. “Ye have no idea, lassie.”
They reached the closed door which led to the Abbess’ office, a thin line of light coming from underneath, indicating that the woman was inside. Suddenly nervous, Freya knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” came the voice from within.
“There’s a man here to see ye, Abbess.”
A pause. “A man?” the Abbess echoed, almost disbelieving.
“It’s Brendan. Uh, I don’t know his second name. The man who brings the—”
The door opened without warning, and Freya flinched back. The Abbess stood there, face impassive. She glanced over Freya’s shoulder at Brendan.
“Come in,” she said shortly. “Freya, do me the kindness of waiting here until we’ve finished our conversation, then ye can escort Brendan out. He cannot walk around the convent unaccompanied.”
Without giving Freya a chance to respond, the Abbess jerked her head, summoning Brendan into the study, and closed the door firmly in her face.
Well. That felt rude, Freya thought. It hardly mattered, though. She shuffled over to one of the chairs in the waiting area, and settled herself down.
Minutes ticked by, and with nothing at all to do but stare at the walls and entertain herself with her own thoughts, Freya began to get bored. What was worse, she started to think.
What was so important? Sister Rosemary let him in right away. Brendan said he was a sort of protector to the convent. Does that mean that something is wrong?
It can’t be a coincidence that whatever is going wrong happened right after I got here.
Could Laird Grahame have found me already?
Fear fizzled through her. Before she knew what she was doing, Freya was on her feet, tiptoeing towards the door.
It’s not really eavesdropping. I just want to know what’s going on. I won’t tell anyone what I hear. It’s no harm, really.
Her conscience would not be silenced, of course, but Freya swallowed back the guilt and flattened her ear against the door. The voices were muffled, but still audible.
“… lead them here,” Brendan was saying, his voice gruff and low. “Could be dangerous.”
There was a long pause, and Freya had to strain her ears to hear what the Abbess said in reply.
“We have offered her shelter now. I won’t take back my offer.”
Her heart sank. It is about me.
“I’m not saying ye should do that,” Brendan responded.
“But I don’t know what’s coming next, Abbess.
There’s already a lot of talk about this place.
Many powerful men would be glad to see ye fall.
Allowing women from all over Scotland to come and study here is a fine thing to do, but it’s attracting attention.
People are starting to talk. And worse yet, disapprove. ”
“Why should I care about the disapproval of men? I have the Lord on my side.”
Brendan gave an exasperated sigh. “I know that, but ye know as well as I do that other convents who have stepped out of line have been punished. Severely. It would be naive to think that ye could somehow escape.”
There was a scraping sound, much like a chair being pushed back over a stone floor.
“What will be will be,” the Abbess responded. “Thank ye, as always, for warning us. It is a great blessing to have a man like ye watching out for the interests of the convent. For now, though, there is nothing we can do beyond stay watchful and wait to see how things will play out.”
There was a sound like a sigh.
“Very well, Abbess. May I go?”
“Of course. Oh, and one last thing, Brendan?”
“Hm?”
“Keep an eye on her, won’t ye?”
There was no answer. And then, quite abruptly, the door began to open, and Freya was forced to scuttle backwards, nearly tripping over her own feet, to avoid being hit in the face.
Brendan stepped out, his face dark. He glanced at her, and his eyes narrowed. The door closed behind him with a slam, but not before she saw the Abbess seated at her desk, staring into space with a furrow between her brow. Worried.
“I suppose ye heard all of that, then,” Brendan said, voice gravelly.
Freya cleared her throat, forcing herself to look him in the eye. “I don’t know what ye are talking about.”
He rolled his eyes. “Give me strength, lassie. Ye are a terrible eavesdropper. It’s written all over yer face, and ye were clearly behind the door when I opened it.”
“It’s not my fault,” she shot back defensively. “I was bored.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “What, are ye a bairn? Not able to entertain yourself for a moment?”
Freya flinched. That one stung. She heard a furious voice echoing in her head.
Are ye a child, Freya? Are ye a stupid bairn, a stupid wee girl, unable to comprehend anything?
Have I raised an idiot? Do ye know what will happen to us, woman, if ye do not go ahead with this betrothal?
Do ye know what will happen to Clan McInnes if Laird Grahame turns against us?
He’s stronger than us, cleverer than us, more ruthless than us.
If ye do not marry him, our clan will burn.
The corpses will pile up, and the rivers run with blood, and it will be all. Yer. Fault. Do ye hear me?
She swallowed hard, shaking away the echoes of her father’s contemptuous, accusing voice.
“I’m not a bairn,” she snapped, more strongly than she’d intended.
Brendan peered down at her, a line appearing between her brows.
“I meant no offense,” he said, more mildly than before. “But really, ye should not listen at doors. Eavesdroppers never learn anything to their benefit.”
She bit her lip, raking a hand through her hair. She hadn’t been able to take a bath yet, and found herself wondering what the sisters did to have a thorough wash.
“I-I heard enough,” she confessed.
Brendan glanced around, as if afraid they might be overheard.
“Walk with me,” was all he said. Then he strode off, not waiting to see if she followed him. Biting back a sigh, Freya broke into a run to catch up.
“I know who ye are, which I think ye must have guessed,” Brendan said, once they reached the end of the hallway. “Ye are Freya McInnes, Laird Grahame’s escaped betrothed, and yer name is on everybody’s lips at the moment. I can’t imagine that this is news to ye, but ye are in terrible danger.”
Freya swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I had guessed, aye. And… are ye going to give me up? To Laird Grahame?”
Brendan glanced down at her briefly. “No, I am not. And neither is the Abbess. But we have different motivations. The Abbess wants to keep ye safe because she believes she has a duty of care to ye now. I want ye to stay hidden because it would be catastrophic for the convent if ye were found here. If I had my way, ye would be sent on yer way with supplies.”
Freya bit her lip. “Thank ye for yer honesty. Why do ye care so much about the convent?”
Brendan stopped dead, and she nearly walked into his back. “What do ye mean? It’s a convent, a holy place. Why should I not care about it?”
She narrowed her eyes, walking around him to look properly up into his face. “Nay, I think there’s something more. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
A muscle flickered in his jaw. “Aye, ye strike me as a curious type. Let’s just say that at a low point in my life, the convent and the Abbess herself did a great deal to help me. They probably saved my life. I owe them.”
“I see,” she managed.
Brendan began to walk away down the hall, more slowly this time. She hurried to catch up.
“And here I was thinking that ye came here to check up on me,” she said, half-smiling.
It was meant to be a joke, but Brendan did not smile.
“With the greatest respect,” he began slowly, “ye seem as the sort of lass who always gets what she wants. Spoiled, in a way. Never had to face any difficulty, or ever heard the word nay.”
Freya winced. “I’d like to deny it, but it would be a lie. I have had an easy life, I know that. Until my father forced me to become betrothed to the worst man in Scotland.”
Brendan acknowledged that with a grunt. He kept shooting quick, curious looks at her out of the corner of his eyes, and every time their eyes met, a shiver rolled down Freya’s spine. Whatever the feeling was, it most certainly was not appropriate for a convent.
“I still think ye haven’t been honest with me,” she said, darting ahead of him and walking backwards so that he was obliged to look at her.
“Come now, I’ve told ye my secrets. We’ve already established that I’m a spoiled wee rich lass, standing on her own for the first time in her life. Can’t ye tell me one of yer secrets?”
He sighed. “Lass, I think ye have bigger problems to worry about than me and my secrets.”
“I don’t know. I think ye are pretty interesting,” she grinned, tilting her head to one side. “I’m making friends here fast, ye know. I might be here for a while.”
Brendan stopped, placing his hands on his hips. “If I were ye, Freya, I’d keep my head down for a while.”
“I’m already hiding in a convent. How much more quiet could I be?”
He snorted. “If ye wanted to lie low, ye have chosen the wrong convent.”
“May I remind ye that ye sent me here?”
“Aye, that was before I knew ye were an escaped fugitive!”
She flushed at that. “Fugitive? Ye make it sound like I’m some sort of criminal. I’m just a woman who doesn’t want to marry a powerful man.”
Brendan looked away. “I’m sorry, ye are right. Ye have done nothing wrong, but ye are in danger. Are ye sure ye don’t want to take yer chances and run?”
She shrugged. “I’m already running. Besides, I like a mystery, and ye interest me very much, Brendan.”
He blinked at that, a little taken aback. “I think ye have yer own problems to consider.”
“I think I need a distraction.”
There was a long pause, the two of them staring at each other. Freya wasn’t entirely sure what she was asking, or what she was hinting at. The only thing she knew was that she wanted Brendan to stay here talking to her, and her heart was beating faster and faster with every passing minute.
“I think ye need to understand just how serious this situation is,” Brendan said at last. “It’s not just yer safety we ought to consider.
Freya, if ye are found here, Laird Grahame will close down the convent and seize their land.
He plans to say that ye were kidnapped and marry ye anyway, which means he needs somebody to accuse of kidnapping ye. Who do ye think that will be?”
Freya shivered. “The Abbess? Some of the sisters, perhaps?”
He nodded. “For many of the women here, this place is a lifeline. Abandoned babies are raised here, and the wounded—inside or outside—can come here to rest and recover. It’s an important part of the community. We have to protect St. Deborah’s, lassie. Stay here if ye want, but be careful, aye?”
She swallowed. “Aye. Aye, I’ll be careful.”
He gave a short nod, and began striding away down the hallway.
They were getting closer to the kitchens and common areas of the Priory.
Freya had always imagined convents to be serious, silent places, but she could hear the happy buzz of chatter and laughter drifting along.
Her heart ached. When was the last time she’d been in a place with so much happiness?
“Wait,” she called, scurrying after Brendan. “When will I see ye again?”
He glanced down at her, exasperated. “I don’t know. Keep yer head down, lassie. Stay quiet. Think about taking orders.”
“I’m not sure I’d make a good nun.”
“Nay, I’m inclined to agree with ye there. I have to go, Freya. Think on what I’ve said, aye?”
They reached a small doorway set deep in the wall, and Freya realized with a jolt that Brendan had been leading the way. He unbolted it and opened it, stepping out into the cool night air.
“I’ll see ye soon,” she called after him. “Deep down, ye like me, I’m sure of it!”
He heaved a sigh and did not respond.