Chapter Twenty-One
Alex pulled the tapestry away from her casement just enough to peer down into the garden below where Mary sat on the stone bench, her elegant back straight and long.
She was a picture of gentility and grace.
Adam sat beside her, but only as close as propriety truly allowed.
Alex held her breath as she watched Adam lean across the bench to whisper in Mary’s ear.
Soft pink highlighted her cousin’s cheeks.
Then Adam sat back and looked at her with gentle expectancy.
Mary’s blush deepened but she turned, shifting her body toward Adam before she nodded.
A nervous smile tugged at Adam’s lips. His hand rested on his thigh, then shifted to grab the bench, then his thigh once more.
Finally, he clasped his hands together and leaned forward.
Mary slowly did the same. Both sets of eyes closed and lips touched, tentatively at first, a whispered caress, then deeper, more tenderly.
Moments later they pulled away, each to their respective sides of the bench.
Alex released a wistful breath before turning away from the window. She had just witnessed Mary and Adam’s first kiss—perhaps Mary’s first kiss ever. Then she thought about her first kiss with Rory. She had grabbed him, boldly pressing her lips to his.
“How different I am from Mary,” she said, joining Michael who sat beside the hearth, staring pensively into the small fire. “She possesses what some might argue are my greatest strengths and none of my flaws. She is the better lady to watch over Luthmore.”
Michael shook his head, still watching the flames. “Neither of ye is better or worse than the other, just different.”
Alex arched a brow at him. “Yer sentiment over me leaving is making a liar out of ye.”
Michael sat up straight in his seat and reached across the divide between their chairs and covered her hand with his. “If I could take back every rebuke, every scolding word I would.”
Her throat thickened with tears. “Stop all that. Ye’re going to make me cry again.
And I spent all morning in tears comforting William.
Ye ken I do not wish to go, but ye now know my deeds.
” She swiped a hand at her tears. “And I would not undo what has been done, not even if I could,” she said resolutely.
“I have been proud to take up Scotland’s sword. ”
Michael’s white brows drew together, his face haggard. “’Tis just that I’ll miss ye, lass.”
Her heart twisted harder, squeezing out her tears. “Me too, old friend. But remember, we do not part ways forever. When ‘tis safe, ye can journey to wherever I end up, and until that time, ye’ll be so busy instructing Mary in her duties as lady of the keep, ye won’t even notice my absence.”
“Ye’re wrong there,” Michael said, a sad smile lifting his frown. “Mary will need little instruction.”
A soft laugh interrupted her dripping tears.
“I ken,” she said, hiccupping. Then she sighed.
“If ye consider the future of our clan with yer head alone, ye’ll see that Mary is the better choice.
My disregard for convention would likely have been seen as a weakness by other clan leaders, but Mary is goodness and virtue; whereas I am a Scottish rebel with a taste for rugged outlaws. ”
“’Tis true, my love,” Rory said from his seat on her bed. She smiled, meeting his sky-blue eyes.
“Trouble, ye are,” he said. “Trouble through and through, but don’t worry, Michael. I’ll make sure she never changes.”
A gentle rapping drew their attention. Rory stood and crossed to stand in front of Alex, then motioned for Rosie to open the door. She opened it just enough to peek into the hallway, then with a gasp, she threw the door wide.
Alex leaned to look past Rory and met crinkled warm, brown eyes. “Abbot Matthew,” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet.
He opened his slim arms in preparation for the assault of her hug. “Ye’re quite fit for someone who will soon succumb to the pox.”
“Nick and Paul told ye everything then?” she said, pulling back to look at his kind face.
The abbot smiled sadly and nodded. “The solution set in place is, I’m afraid and dumbfounded to admit, our best course, especially considering where ye’ve chosen to place yer heart.
” The abbot turned and looked sharply at Rory.
“I should have known better than to send ye along in the first place.” His face softened, and he took hold of their hands.
“But given both yer temperaments, yer difficulty following even simple instructions, yer knack for finding danger, and yer overall complete disregard for propriety—I should have known ye’d fall in love at first sight.
” Then looking at Alex, he said, “In the letter I sent promoting the attributes of Adam, Robert, and Timothy, I should not have cautioned ye against Rory. In doing so, I fear I turned him into forbidden fruit. I should have recommended him above the others, given ye my blessing, and told ye he was a perfect, law-abiding gentleman. Then ye would’ve stayed clear of him. ”
Alex smiled at the abbot, then gazed up into Rory’s deep-set, heavily lashed eyes.
A rakish smile curved his full lips. His black hair fell in careless waves to his broad, thickly muscled shoulders.
Keeping his promise to her, the Mackenzie plaid slashed across his bare chest and bunched dangerously low at his waist. He continued to wear his tall, black leather boots.
“Honestly, Abbot,” she said, never taking her eyes from Rory’s.
“Do ye think I would have believed ye if ye had?”
The abbot chuckled. “Never.”
“With all due respect, Abbot,” Rosie chimed in, “’tis too late for all that, anyway.”
“Which brings us back to the real matter at hand,” Michael said, his sensible reminder drawing everyone’s gaze.
“Right ye both are,” Abbot Matthew said. Then he cleared his throat and looked at Alex. “The day grows old. We still have yer death to feign and yer funeral to plan.”
Alex pressed her lips together in a grim line.
“Well, those aren’t phrases ye hear every day,” Rosie said, swiping at the tears wetting her pink cheeks.
The abbot crossed the room and put a comforting arm around Rosie’s shoulders. “True,” he said. “But then ‘tis not every day someone robs the king’s palace.”
Feeling a renewed sense of pride, Alex lifted her chin and locked eyes with the abbot. “Alba gu bràth.”