Chapter 3
St. Agnes Abbey – One Month Later
The clash of steel rang through the secluded courtyard behind the abbey's kitchen gardens. Bella Sutherland moved with practiced grace, her blade flashing in the early morning light as she demonstrated a defensive sequence to the two young novices watching with rapt attention.
"Again," she said, her voice calm but firm. "Anne, your grip is too tight. Ye'll tire before your opponent does. And Moira, watch your footwork. If ye're off balance, even the smallest opponent can bring ye down."
The girls nodded solemnly, adjusting their stances.
At fifteen and sixteen, they were among the youngest to train in the abbey's secret tradition.
Not everyone participated in the combat training, but those who did learned skills that might one day save their lives or the lives of others under their protection.
Bella had been one of the abbey’s most dedicated students who now trained others. What had started as a way to channel her grief and rage had become something more, a discipline that brought clarity, a purpose that gave her days meaning beyond domestic duties.
"Now," Bella said, stepping back. "Show me the disarming technique I taught ye last sennight."
Bella lunged forward, her practice blade aimed at Anne's midsection. Anne sidestepped smoothly, caught Bella's wrist, and within seconds had the blade in her own hand.
"Well done," Bella said, as Anne returned her weapon. "But ye hesitated slightly. In a real fight, that could cost ye your life."
"Aye," Anne replied, pink-cheeked but determined.
Bella suppressed a smile before announcing their training session was over.
"Bella?" Sister Margaret's voice came from the archway leading back to the main abbey buildings. "Abbess Bethóc wishes to see you."
A flutter of unease stirred in Bella's chest. The abbess rarely summoned her with such urgency during training hours. She knew better than to interrupt unless it was important.
"We’ll continue practice on the morrow," Bella told the novices.
She followed Sister Margaret through the quiet corridors, wearing her training garment, fitted tights and a simple linen tunic that came to her knees.
Nothing like the usual grey gowns lay-sisters wore.
She should probably change before meeting with the abbess, but something about Sister Margaret's expression suggested there wasn't time.
She knocked softly on the heavy wooden door of the abbess's chamber.
"Enter, child."
Abbess Bethóc sat behind her desk, her weathered face more lined than usual. In her hands was a parchment.
Bella's unease increased.
"Abbess Bethóc, ye wanted to speak to me?"
"Aye, lass. Sit, please." The older woman's gaze flickered briefly over Bella's clothing but she made no comment. She gestured to the chair across from her. "I received a missive from the king this morning. He requests certain action be taken with regard to ye."
"With me?" Bella sank into the chair, her mind racing. "I dinnae understand. What has happened?"
The abbess sighed heavily, setting the parchment down. "It seems yer brother, Laird Bryce Sutherland, has fallen out of favor with His Majesty. There is a matter that requires your immediate attention."
"Bryce?" Bella's voice came out strangled. She hadn't heard from her brother in years, not since her father died and Bryce became laird. She still remembered him casting her out of the clan years ago, calling her a disgrace to the Sutherland name. "But I have not seen him since he sent me here."
"Be that as it may, lass, ye are still a Sutherland. The king has decreed that ye must answer for your brother's actions."
The blood drained from Bella's face. "Why? How?"
Abbess Bethóc reached across the desk and took Bella's trembling hands in her own. "'Tis the king's express wish that ye are to wed. Immediately."
The room tilted. Bella's voice rose in panic. "I dinnae want to wed. I'll take my vows! I'll become a sister. Please, Mother Abbess, dinnae send me away!"
"Hush now, Bella. Calm down and I shall explain everything."
Bella listened as Abbess Bethóc detailed Bryce's crimes. He'd defied the king's explicit commands regarding a peace treaty with the MacKay clan. Bella's marriage was intended as part of the restitution and a way to bring the Sutherlands to heel.
"But why me?" Bella demanded, her voice breaking. "I've done nothing wrong. 'Twas Bryce who created all this turmoil. Why must I be the one to suffer for his actions?"
"Aye, 'tis very unfair. But your brother's actions put your entire clan at risk. The king must show he will not tolerate such treachery from any clan."
"But surely they cannot expect me to be punished for his crimes. I would never wish harm on anyone. I've spent years in service."
"I'm sorry, Bella. All has been arranged. Yer groom arrived this morn."
The blood drained from Bella's face. "He's here? Who is it? Who am I to wed?"
The abbess took a deep breath. "Ye are to marry a warrior. The king's man as reward for his years of loyal service. They call him the Monk."
Bella gripped the arms of her chair so tightly her knuckles went white.
"No," she breathed. "No, it cannot be."
Even here, within these sacred walls, they had heard the stories. The Monk was the king's most feared warrior. Aptly named because he was a zealot when it came to brutally punishing enemies of the king. The villagers whispered that he had no soul. No emotions.
Bella began to shake uncontrollably. "Abbess Bethóc, I cannot. The stories they tell of this man."
"I ken the stories, lass. But ye must remember, warriors gain fearsome reputations. It does not mean they are true."
"They say he's a monster." Bella's voice cracked with terror. "How can the king expect me to marry such a creature?"
Abbess Bethóc squeezed her hands. "Bella, listen to me—"
"No." Bella pulled away and got to her feet, her training instincts taking over as she began to pace the small chamber. Her mind was racing, grasping at anything. "But who is he really? What is his name?"
A movement near the doorway alerted her to danger. Bella turned, her entire body trembling, and she watched as a figure detached itself from the shadows and stepped into the light.
Bella froze. The air leaving her lungs as her brain tried to reconcile the person standing before her.
He was taller than she remembered. Broader.
The boy she'd loved had been solid and strong from forge work, but this man was built like a warrior, all hard muscle and battle scars.
His hair was longer, touching his collar.
His hands, those hands that had once held hers so gently now looked like they could crush stone.
But it was his eyes that pierced her soul.
Eyes that used to look upon her with such tenderness, such love.
Now they were ice cold. His gaze swept over her in a way that made heat rise to her cheeks.
She saw the exact moment he registered her clothing.
His eyes narrowed. Bella watched something flicker across his face.
His gaze lingered on the curve of her waist, her ample chest, before traveling back up to meet her eyes.
For a heartbeat, she saw heat in those blue depths.
Something primal and hungry that made her breath catch.
Then it was gone, replaced by that terrible mask of cold indifference.
"Boyd?" she whispered.
His jaw tightened at the sound of her voice then he walked toward her slowly, each step measured, deliberate. Like a predator stalking prey.
Bella couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Could only watch as Boyd MacKinnon closed the distance between them.
He stopped just inches away, so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, could smell leather and steel and something uniquely him that made her traitorous heart ache with the memory.
He looked down at her with those cold eyes, and a slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. When he spoke, the tone of his voice was a deep and low, it sent shivers down her spine.
"Hello, Bella. Have ye missed me?"
***
THE QUESTION HUNG IN the air between them, loaded with years of pain and anger.
Bella opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.
Her mind was screaming at her to run, to back away, to protect herself.
But her traitorous body remembered other things.
Remembered those strong arms holding her close.
Remembered their naked bodies entwined in the moonlight, remembered whispered promises and stolen kisses in the night.
Remembered love so fierce it had felt like it could conquer anything.
Before it had been destroyed in a heartbeat.
She forced herself to meet his gaze, to hold her ground.
"Ye're the Monk?"
His smile widened, but there was no warmth in it. He replied, "Aye, and I'm here to claim my reward."
"No, there must be a mistake."
Boyd leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "There is no mistake. Ye will be my wife."
Bella stepped back, needing to think clearly, but Boyd followed, matching her step for step until her back hit the wall.
He braced one hand beside her head, caging her in.
This close, she could see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes, could see the way his jaw clenched as if he were fighting some internal battle.
"Ye look different," he said, his gaze traveling over her face. His thumb brushed across her cheekbone in a gesture that might have been tender if not for the coldness in his eyes. "What happened to the spirited lass I once knew?"
"Ye happened," Bella replied before she could stop herself.
Something flashed in his expression. His hand fell away from her face as if burned.
"Is that so?" His voice was hard now, all traces of that dangerous softness gone.
They stared at each other, the air between them crackling with tension. Bella's heart was hammering so hard she was certain he could hear it.
They were interrupted when the abbess cleared her throat. "Perhaps," she said pointedly, "we should discuss the arrangements for the ceremony?"
Boyd straightened, stepping back from Bella as if remembering for the first time they had an audience. The loss of his proximity should have been a relief. Instead, Bella felt strangely bereft.
"There's nothing to discuss," Boyd replied, his tone cold. "We'll wed within the hour. Here, in your chapel. Then we leave for my estate."
"An hour?" Bella's voice rose. "That's not enough time."
"Ye've had ten years, Bella," Boyd cut her off, his gaze pinning her in place. "I'd say that's time enough."
Abbess Bethóc interjected gently. "Perhaps Miss Sutherland could have a short time to prepare herself? This is all quite sudden."
"She has an hour." Boyd's eyes never left Bella's face. "Not a moment more."
Then he turned and strode toward the door. But at the threshold, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. "Dinnae think to run from me, Bella. Ye will be my wife whether ye wish it or not."
"Then I suppose, it matters not what I feel," Bella whispered.
For just a moment, Boyd's expression looked anguished. But then his face went blank again, cold and remote. He turned to the abbess. "I'll see ye in the chapel."
Then he was gone, striding from the room without a backward glance.
Bella sagged against the wall, her legs finally giving out. Abbess Bethóc rushed to her side, helping her into a chair.
"Lass, what on earth was that about? I take it ye ken him?"
Bella closed her eyes and nodded. "Once. A lifetime ago. I thought I loved him. We were to marry." She opened her eyes, meeting the abbess's concerned gaze. "And then he destroyed me."
"Then refuse. Claim sanctuary. Even though the king has decreed it, I am not without some power. 'Tis a battle I'm willing to wage if ye truly believe this man is a danger to ye."
"No." Bella's voice was hollow. "Ye cannot go against the king now. It will put everything ye've built here at risk. I am not worth it." She swallowed hard. "Besides, this is my burden to bear."
"Lass, ye are worth far more. Let me see if I can reason with the king."
"No." Bella straightened her spine. "I shall do what must be done."
Abbess Bethóc studied her for some time. Then she sighed and nodded. "Come, let's get ye ready then."
As Bella followed her from the room, she couldn't shake the image of Boyd's face. The coldness in his eyes. The cruelty in his smile.
The man she'd loved once was truly dead.
And in his place stood a stranger.
***