to deal with feelings of…of…desire?
“If I tell ye, ye must promise not to do anything rash.”
Oh, by the saints! What would they do? Rob the abbey? Was his clan so poor he must thieve from religious houses?
She stiffened. “I know exactly what you have in mind and I will not be a party to your thievery.”
“’Tis not exactly thieving and ye will be a party to it. ’Tis the only way.”
Arbella sucked in her breath. He would force her to become a criminal. “The only way? There are certainly more ways to get by then taking from the innocent.”
“Not if I am to protect the innocent.”
“And you think the abbey is the answer?”
“Aye. I dinna want to wait. Too much danger.”
“Your thought process is flawed.”
“Your insults will not change my mind, lass, as much as ye are a pain in the arse.”
Her mouth fell open at his insult. “Barbarian,” she muttered and s hook her head. The man was no more than a common thief. She sent a prayer up to God that he would forgive her for having to bear witness to Laird Sutherland’s crimes. And she swore she would not be party to it. He would have to drag her inside the abbey walls for she would not walk in there willingly.
By the time they reached the abbey, Arbella’s stomach had twisted into a thousand knots and her limbs ached from traveling days on end, battling rebels and pure unadulterated stress. She wanted to crawl into a nice warm bed and sleep for days—after having a steamy bath. She sighed heavily, knowing those luxuries were not likely to come to her anytime soon.
Within moments she would witness the unholy act of a warrior robbing a house of God.
How could she warn the abbot they were about to be robbed? She couldn’t just let Laird Sutherland get away with such an act. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop him herself, but at least offering a warning to those within…
They approached the large double doors set inside a tall wooden wall that were barred entry to the inside, the only protection—well that and God—the abbey had against intruders.
The Highland laird dismounted, leaving her back cold and approached the door, knocking hard on the wood. The sound echoed ominously in the deserted land and Arbella flinched with each crack against the surface.
She closed her eyes. She could bolt. He had left her on the horse. She could try.
One door opened a few inches and a monk poked his head out. He spoke with the laird, nodding every so often. Then the monk backed away and the other door was also opened allowing them entry into the abbey courtyard.
Arbella gripped the reins, preparing to flee. She could do this. She did not have to be a n accessory to such an abominable act.
She squeezed the horse with her thighs and tugged frantically on the reins, trying to turn the mount to the left. But the horse did not follow her directions. The animal walked straight for the laird. Arbella panicked and tried again, but the horse ignored her completely, having eyes only for his master. Frustration pricked her nerves, tears filled her eyes. How had the man trained his animal to follow his orders when he wasn’t even riding him?
She respected the notion for its merit—’twas a darn good idea—but she cursed it all the more that she could not escape. She was a prisoner of this man. Even atop his horse. That was why he had no problem leaving her alone. He knew she wouldn’t be able to escape.
When she reac hed his side, the laird smirked with pride. “Beast is smart, is he not?”
A fitting name for the infuriating warhorse. She gave an unladylike grunt and glared at him. “You are a barbarian,” she muttered.
Magnus had the audacity to chuckle. She would show him…she didn’t know how, but she knew she would.
Once they reached the center of the courtyard, the warriors dismounted and led their horses into a small stables. Arbella surveyed the abbey. They were not wealthy. No relics, statues or an overabundance of
“If I tell ye, ye must promise not to do anything rash.”
Oh, by the saints! What would they do? Rob the abbey? Was his clan so poor he must thieve from religious houses?
She stiffened. “I know exactly what you have in mind and I will not be a party to your thievery.”
“’Tis not exactly thieving and ye will be a party to it. ’Tis the only way.”
Arbella sucked in her breath. He would force her to become a criminal. “The only way? There are certainly more ways to get by then taking from the innocent.”
“Not if I am to protect the innocent.”
“And you think the abbey is the answer?”
“Aye. I dinna want to wait. Too much danger.”
“Your thought process is flawed.”
“Your insults will not change my mind, lass, as much as ye are a pain in the arse.”
Her mouth fell open at his insult. “Barbarian,” she muttered and s hook her head. The man was no more than a common thief. She sent a prayer up to God that he would forgive her for having to bear witness to Laird Sutherland’s crimes. And she swore she would not be party to it. He would have to drag her inside the abbey walls for she would not walk in there willingly.
By the time they reached the abbey, Arbella’s stomach had twisted into a thousand knots and her limbs ached from traveling days on end, battling rebels and pure unadulterated stress. She wanted to crawl into a nice warm bed and sleep for days—after having a steamy bath. She sighed heavily, knowing those luxuries were not likely to come to her anytime soon.
Within moments she would witness the unholy act of a warrior robbing a house of God.
How could she warn the abbot they were about to be robbed? She couldn’t just let Laird Sutherland get away with such an act. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop him herself, but at least offering a warning to those within…
They approached the large double doors set inside a tall wooden wall that were barred entry to the inside, the only protection—well that and God—the abbey had against intruders.
The Highland laird dismounted, leaving her back cold and approached the door, knocking hard on the wood. The sound echoed ominously in the deserted land and Arbella flinched with each crack against the surface.
She closed her eyes. She could bolt. He had left her on the horse. She could try.
One door opened a few inches and a monk poked his head out. He spoke with the laird, nodding every so often. Then the monk backed away and the other door was also opened allowing them entry into the abbey courtyard.
Arbella gripped the reins, preparing to flee. She could do this. She did not have to be a n accessory to such an abominable act.
She squeezed the horse with her thighs and tugged frantically on the reins, trying to turn the mount to the left. But the horse did not follow her directions. The animal walked straight for the laird. Arbella panicked and tried again, but the horse ignored her completely, having eyes only for his master. Frustration pricked her nerves, tears filled her eyes. How had the man trained his animal to follow his orders when he wasn’t even riding him?
She respected the notion for its merit—’twas a darn good idea—but she cursed it all the more that she could not escape. She was a prisoner of this man. Even atop his horse. That was why he had no problem leaving her alone. He knew she wouldn’t be able to escape.
When she reac hed his side, the laird smirked with pride. “Beast is smart, is he not?”
A fitting name for the infuriating warhorse. She gave an unladylike grunt and glared at him. “You are a barbarian,” she muttered.
Magnus had the audacity to chuckle. She would show him…she didn’t know how, but she knew she would.
Once they reached the center of the courtyard, the warriors dismounted and led their horses into a small stables. Arbella surveyed the abbey. They were not wealthy. No relics, statues or an overabundance of
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