Page 55 of Claimed by a Highlander
“Whether I become chieftain or no, I’ll never let anyone take ye away from me.” Rory held her gaze as he spoke. “I would protect ye with my last breath.”
Sybil blinked back tears. Why did Rory have to go and say that? She tried her best not to think too much about her own future. She wanted to make the most of the time she had with him, not ruin it with worries about what would happen when it ended.
But her Highlander was going to break her heart for certain.
CHAPTER 20
“How long before we reach Killin?” she asked, though what she really wanted to know was how much more time she would have with him.
“We should arrive tomorrow.”
Sybil sighed and rested her head against Rory’s back as they rode. How she would miss this! Her former friends at court would be amazed that she could tolerate, much less enjoy, spending every hour of so many days and nights with just one person. She surprised herself.
She had persuaded herself not to ruin the present by fretting about the future. Now the future was fast approaching, and she would pay the price.
“I’ve decided to stop at Beauly Priory on our way,” Rory said. “I expect it’s too soon, but I need to find out if my brother’s body has been brought there yet.”
She tightened her hold around his waist to comfort him. Most of the time he hid his grief, but she knew his brother’s death weighed heavy on his heart.
In late afternoon they reached a large body of water.
“This is a firth, an inlet from the sea,” Rory said. “Ye can sail from Beauly at one end of it to Inverness at the other, and from Inverness, ye can sail to anywhere in the world.”
Not long after, she saw a large stone building next to a river that emptied into the Firth.
“That’s Beauly Priory,” Rory said. “It was sacked when I was a boy. My father funded the repairs, which were made under the direction of my uncle, who was the bishop at the time. They are both buried here.”
It was growing dark by the time they dismounted at the priory gate and rang the bell. When a monk appeared, Sybil expected they would be turned away until morning. But Rory’s family was an important benefactor of the priory, and his name and his wish to visit his father’s tomb was sufficient to gain them entry.
Without a word, the monk led them across the grounds to a side entrance to the church. When the monk left them, Rory appeared in no hurry to go inside. She and Rory stood side by side, gazing up at the angled roof, which was designed to draw the eye upward to heaven. Sybil found the tranquil strength of the building soothing and hoped Rory did too.
Finally, Rory pushed open the heavy wooden door. Inside, the church was eerily empty, lit only by flickering candles and the remaining light of the day that filtered through the intricately designed stained glass window at the far end. Rory dipped his fingers in the font of holy water next to the door, made the sign of the cross, and waited while Sybil did the same.
Like all great churches, it was built in the shape of the cross. Rory took her hand and led her down the long nave and past the monk’s choir to where the two parts of the cross met. On either side, an elaborately carved tomb was set into the wall at the entrance to the transepts.
Rory paused before the tomb on the right, which had an effigy of a churchman, and made the sign of the cross again. “My uncle the bishop lies here.”
The tomb on the other side, at the entrance to the north transept, had a life-sized effigy of a warrior in armor. Rory did not need to tell her whose tomb it was. When Rory dropped to his knees and rested his forehead against the engraved border of the crypt, she stepped back to give him some privacy. He murmured prayers for his father, then raised his voice.
“Dear God, why did ye take my brother and leave me?” Rory clenched his fist against the tomb. “Brian had such goodness in him.”
“That he did.”
Startled by the voice behind her, Sybil whirled around to find a large figure in priest’s robes. He carried a lantern, but his face was hidden by his hood.
“Goodness never ensured a long life, particularly here in the Highlands,” the priest said, and rested his hand on Rory’s shoulder. “But Brian is sure to have a place in heaven.”
Rory stood and the two men embraced.
“We lost him before he had a chance to be the chieftain we hoped he could be,” the priest said. “Now it falls to you, Rory.”
“How did ye know I was here?” Rory asked.
“I’ve been keeping watch for ye,” the priest said. “I thought you’d come here once ye heard of our brother’s death.”
“This is my younger brother, Alexander,” Rory said, turning to Sybil. “The priest of Avoch.”
Alexander pushed his hood back, revealing a young and handsome face. He gave her an appraisal that was most un-priestly and a warm smile. He struck her as unsuited to his calling, but a younger son often went to the church regardless.
