in Lady Katherine’s temple, her jaw pinched tight. She stood and looked down her nose at Effie. “Ye have been duly warned, Lady Reay. Ye tell your brother we will not fight his war until Clan Sutherland has a male issue.”
Effie’s face puckered. “What war?”
“The war against Clan Ross.” Lady Katherine raised her skirt and strode out of the chapel.
Magnus dismounted his destrier and landed in a snowdrift that reached his thighs. He was freezing, exhausted and on the verge of deciding this had been a fool’s quest. Moonlight glittered off a blanket of snow and lighted the way to the kirk. He should have been back to Dunrobin by now, but the two-day ride to Saint Duthac had taken six.
He sighed, now regretting not telling anyone where he was going, but he’d wanted to surprise Effie. With a gloved fist, he banged on the doors and decided it would be worth the trek. It would please Effie to be married by a priest in the church.
“But I would wager she is cursing me now.” He patted the neck of his trusted stallion and thought of the night he’d spent making love to Effie. While those memories had kept him warm on his journey, they hadn’t filled his belly.
A small iron plate slid open on the peephole, then shut, just before the arched doors opened inward with a whoosh.
“Laird Sutherland!” Father O’Rourke protected his nose and mouth from the harsh wind and urged Magnus inside. “What are ye doing traveling in weather like this?”
“I need a priest.” Magnus removed his gloves and blew hot air into his cold hands.
“Are ye dying, laddie?” Father O’Rourke held his lantern high and inspected Magnus for wounds.
“I’m not dying, Father. I’m getting married.”
“Come.” Robes flowing, Father O’Rourke led Magnus to the rectory and instructed a young boy to tend his horse. Magnus peeled away his outer layers and accepted a bowl of warm barley from an elder matron while Father O’Rourke lowered himself into a high-back chair beside the hearth. He scratched his white beard and gave Magnus a disapproving look. “Is the girl with child?”
“I hope so,” Magnus answered honestly. He held no desire to lie to a priest. There were enough sins on his soul.
“Why the urgency? Why would ye risk so much to fetch me in this weather?”
“I have my reasons.” Magnus warmed his hands by the fire. “For one, I wish to have our union blessed to legitimize a male issue, should my new wife be fortunate enough to give me one. For another, it has been well over a year since your last visit to Dunrobin and we’ve a great number of bairns who are awaiting baptism. And lastly, my kinsmen are in need of confessions, for I fear we may be faced with another war soon.” As much as Magnus hated the thought of going up against Clan Ross, he feared there was no other way to appease Ian Mackay.
The auld priest fidgeted with the rosary hanging from his belt. “Who is she, the girl?”
“Ian Mackay’s eldest sister, Euphema Reay.”
“Effie?” Father O’Rourke leaned forward in his chair, his bushy white brows furrowed above his pale eyes.
“Aye.” Magnus nodded and smiled as pride warmed his chest. “Ye know her?”
“I buried her kin, each and all. Forgive me for saying so, but isn’t Effie a wee bit beyond her years?”
“Nay, she is not.” Magnus’ scowl must have been fierce for the priest eased out of his chair and moved to stand behind a pine desk.
“Effie is afflicted by her past. She has many ghosts chasing her.”
“Think ye I dinnae know this?”
“Do ye?” Father O’Rourke’s disdainful look was one Magnus had seen many times before on Mam.
He blew a frustrated breath. “I dinnae just bed her if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
“’Tis exactly what I’m insinuating.” The man no longer looked afraid. His desire to protect Effie gave him a sizable pair of bollocks. “I dinnae wish to see her hurt, again.”
“Nor do I.” Magnus crossed his arms
Effie’s face puckered. “What war?”
“The war against Clan Ross.” Lady Katherine raised her skirt and strode out of the chapel.
Magnus dismounted his destrier and landed in a snowdrift that reached his thighs. He was freezing, exhausted and on the verge of deciding this had been a fool’s quest. Moonlight glittered off a blanket of snow and lighted the way to the kirk. He should have been back to Dunrobin by now, but the two-day ride to Saint Duthac had taken six.
He sighed, now regretting not telling anyone where he was going, but he’d wanted to surprise Effie. With a gloved fist, he banged on the doors and decided it would be worth the trek. It would please Effie to be married by a priest in the church.
“But I would wager she is cursing me now.” He patted the neck of his trusted stallion and thought of the night he’d spent making love to Effie. While those memories had kept him warm on his journey, they hadn’t filled his belly.
A small iron plate slid open on the peephole, then shut, just before the arched doors opened inward with a whoosh.
“Laird Sutherland!” Father O’Rourke protected his nose and mouth from the harsh wind and urged Magnus inside. “What are ye doing traveling in weather like this?”
“I need a priest.” Magnus removed his gloves and blew hot air into his cold hands.
“Are ye dying, laddie?” Father O’Rourke held his lantern high and inspected Magnus for wounds.
“I’m not dying, Father. I’m getting married.”
“Come.” Robes flowing, Father O’Rourke led Magnus to the rectory and instructed a young boy to tend his horse. Magnus peeled away his outer layers and accepted a bowl of warm barley from an elder matron while Father O’Rourke lowered himself into a high-back chair beside the hearth. He scratched his white beard and gave Magnus a disapproving look. “Is the girl with child?”
“I hope so,” Magnus answered honestly. He held no desire to lie to a priest. There were enough sins on his soul.
“Why the urgency? Why would ye risk so much to fetch me in this weather?”
“I have my reasons.” Magnus warmed his hands by the fire. “For one, I wish to have our union blessed to legitimize a male issue, should my new wife be fortunate enough to give me one. For another, it has been well over a year since your last visit to Dunrobin and we’ve a great number of bairns who are awaiting baptism. And lastly, my kinsmen are in need of confessions, for I fear we may be faced with another war soon.” As much as Magnus hated the thought of going up against Clan Ross, he feared there was no other way to appease Ian Mackay.
The auld priest fidgeted with the rosary hanging from his belt. “Who is she, the girl?”
“Ian Mackay’s eldest sister, Euphema Reay.”
“Effie?” Father O’Rourke leaned forward in his chair, his bushy white brows furrowed above his pale eyes.
“Aye.” Magnus nodded and smiled as pride warmed his chest. “Ye know her?”
“I buried her kin, each and all. Forgive me for saying so, but isn’t Effie a wee bit beyond her years?”
“Nay, she is not.” Magnus’ scowl must have been fierce for the priest eased out of his chair and moved to stand behind a pine desk.
“Effie is afflicted by her past. She has many ghosts chasing her.”
“Think ye I dinnae know this?”
“Do ye?” Father O’Rourke’s disdainful look was one Magnus had seen many times before on Mam.
He blew a frustrated breath. “I dinnae just bed her if that’s what you’re insinuating.”
“’Tis exactly what I’m insinuating.” The man no longer looked afraid. His desire to protect Effie gave him a sizable pair of bollocks. “I dinnae wish to see her hurt, again.”
“Nor do I.” Magnus crossed his arms
Similar Books
