Page 1 of Keepers of the Highland Crown
Chapter 1
Thistle Glen Abbey, Northeast of Loch Lomond, Year of our Lord 1266
“Lord MacMardan, your care in all these matters has been a most welcome find!” Lady Fawnella smiled at her late husband’s eldest son. Did it ever feel odd her stepson was well over a score older than her? Yep. Every. Single. Moment.
“I felt it necessary to make certain your widow’s dowry was bequeathed into your care, properly. If you also recall, ’twas to be ‘Keithen’ as opposed to ‘Lord MacMardan’ when we last spoke in private.” The copper hair brushed across his brow when inclined his skull towards her. “I am simply relieved my efforts to seek you have been fruitful. The manner in which you vanished from my sire was rather unexpected.”
She lowered her gaze while they turned the corner from the passageway which led them into the open-skyed cloister. Greenery lining the garden appeared in the full moon’s bright beams. Had the sight ever failed to calm her? Nope, not once; it was visual chamomile to her frayed frigging nerves. Her erratic breathing slowed. Why had it grown erratic in the first place?Oh, right, the mention ofyour sire, Keithen, aka devil in the flesh. This was the reason for running fast as possible.
“Keithen, please forgive my hasty leave—”
“Lady Fawnella” – Keithen halted her words – “I do understand my late sire was most wanting in certain aspects in his care toward you. This gave the fire for me to see the deed done about the dowry in your name.”Good, he’d changed the subject.“The lands have been tended, and the coin shall be in your hand, forthwith. Shall you remain here?” He raised his palm, holding the parchments he’d brought regarding the widow’s dowry, toward the pillared covered archway which traveled around the gardens.
A score and four years old. Could she remain here?Always.“Aye,” Nella replied hastily. “How do you fare? I was so terribly sorry to hear of your late wife and stillborn bairn.” Keithen’s flesh above the full beard matched its crimson color a moment. “Forgive me, I did not mean to cause you more pain.”
Keithen smoothed his hand down his embroidered tunic as if he were smoothing his emotions. “Aye, ’tis a moment I would seek left silent.” He raised a bushy brow at her. “One who has not remained silent is my wee brother, Sir Sean.”
Her breath caught as her fingers tightened on the lantern in her grasp. “Has he been told I reside here?”Please, no, please say no.
“Nae, my lady, I thought to inquire first if you would wish for him to know of your whereabouts here.”
She breathed once more the scents by herbs flooding her senses. “I would wish this to remain between us.”
Keithen nodded. “Granted.” His eyes turned toward the garden. “’Tis truly a bounty in herbs.”
Footsteps with a familiar drag by the left foot sounded behind her before a voice from Abbess leapt in the exchange. “Aye! Our Lady Fawnella has been a true find for the gardens. They grow under her fingers as if her touch were sunshine and rain itself.”They just needed some extra TLC.
Keithen grinned. “I have never seen such a bounty in feverfew. She was a wonder at my late sire’s clan as well with the gardens.”
“A lord who knows his herbs,” Abbess said with awe.
“Aye,” Nella added, “Lord MacMardan carries a love for plants as well.”
“A rare find for a wealthy lord.” Abbess smiled. “Also, a most enduring trait I must say.” Abbess turned her weathered gaze toward Nella. “I have a chamber prepared for his lordship since the hour grows late. If you would care, I may show him.”
“Please.”
Keithen lifted the parchment in his grasp slightly at Nella. “Forthwith, all is settled. I shall return perhaps after the harvests are seen to?”
“For certain, I shall enjoy hearing how the bounty has fared.” Nella nodded then glanced at Abbess. Concern weighed her inquiry. “Abbot was not present at supper, nor have I seen him once this eve. Is he well?”
“Aye, he retired early in preparation for his leave upon the morrow. I also believe he still seeks a wee bit more rest from only just settlin’ back into this abbey after the negotiations with the Kingdom of Norway. Our bones grow weary as yours grow stronger, my lady; you have labored here greatly.” The silver eyebrows rose while she glanced at the gardens.
“The need was grand for your patients to have the herbs,” Nella replied. “’Twas nothing.”
Abbess looked at Keithen. “As we seek the path toward your chambers, you must tell me if the lady has always been so stubborn about her humbleness.”
Keithen chuckled, falling in stride beside Abbess. A shuffle noise sounded by Abbess’s habit with a drag by her limp from ill knees while she strode away under the covered arcadewith Keithen before they vanished around the corner near the night stairs.
Was it the unexpected appearance by Keithen which drove the dire need at tending the garden on the cusp of darkness? Aye. Peace. She craved it, same as flowers yearned for sunlight! Her feet eagerly sought the basket she had tucked away near the garden’s fountain’s base. What if Keithen told Sir Sean she was here? No. He said he wouldn’t. Did she trust Keithen so very much? Her years in his cruel sire’s grasp Keithen had always been kind. Aye, Keithen would not betray her.
Pluck. Pluck.As she tended the rosemary plantings, a sprig of a wayward plant heralding more to a flower than weed caught Nella’s eye. The fullest moon turned highest overhead, illuminating the find near her metal lantern. Wait, was that a rare primrose? How had it gotten here!
Pulling the tiny bloom, she swallowed hard. Callum MacCade. It was the same flower Callum had given her the first time she had met her one true love.Nella, the golden shade is the same as found within your bonny eyes.Ha! That lying, nasty, mean, cruel, heartbreaking, bad-kissing… well, not bad-kissing, excellent really, no more sublime in the most delicious sense of the word… Wait. Just wait a damn moment!Liar? Aye. Broke your heart? Aye.The flower landed in her basket while she gave a snort.Wretched Scotsman, how dare you invade my thoughts.When was the last time? Um, two days and ten; no, eleven hours, but who was bothering to keep track?
A door shuttered at the night stairs’ top. Her gaze looked toward the empty archway at ground level. There were more important things than considering a Scottish braggart, like making certain all those here were safe before taking a rest.Focus!
She glanced about, like a wee lass sneaking a forbidden treat.No one present;time for a full chronicle. As she tiltedher head slightly, the instinct in sense she had sharpened after years by pain and practice on her innate immense ability to hear sharply rose at once.All is well?Abbess closing the door on her chamber; a friar grousing about in the buttery under the structure. Only one friar was still present there?Shuffle, shuffle, a single set of footsteps. Aye, a lone friar. The sound signature was a long, slow stride; it must be the eldest friar newly arrived from Inverness. Loud snore echoing the far chamber up the night stairs, a tiny grin stole her lips. Abbotwasgetting his rest.Good,all is well in the abbey. Beyond? Her brow furrowed as her head tilted a wee bit more, and her wimple grazed her temple. Rustle off the far east side beyond the wall; tiny stride with a bit of a hop – hare.Rustle along the wall like whiskers rubbing wood – cat?Squeak.No, it was a rat.
