Highland Lies (The Band of Cousins Book 4) Page 6

  Clearing his throat, he told Braden the rest of it. The strangeness they’d sensed at Sona Abbey. The new abbey they’d seen. The Englishman who’d overseen the work.

  “What’s your plan now?” Braden asked.

  “After we return to MacDole Castle to talk to the help, mayhap ask Rose a few more questions, we’ll travel to the abbey to see if we can find anything else out about the new abbey. We have about a fortnight to figure out what they have planned.”

  Braden scratched his head. “’Tis strange indeed. We haven’t heard anything about a new abbey, even from the stable master. You’re hoping not to attract notice, so I’d best stay back, but if anything changes, I’d be happy to join you.”

  “If Daniel shows up, send him in our direction. We’ll stay the night if you do not mind, then head out on the morrow.”

  They left the next morning at dawn.

  When they finally arrived at the castle, they were surprised to find Lady MacDole outside the curtain wall chatting with her steward. As soon as she caught sight of them, she stalked straight over, coming to a stop beside Roddy’s horse. “Lad, I know why you’re here. Remove it from your mind. My daughter is no longer here. She’s to take her vows as a nun. I’ve just delivered her to the abbey, and she’ll not be allowed visitors for a long time.”

  Roddy’s jaw dropped open. Her words stunned him. It didn’t take long before the news brought back that transparent specter from a few nights before.

  You must come back. You must help her when she arrives.

  Fortunately, Connor jumped right into the conversation. “We are not here for that reason. When we were last here, we asked you if you’d seen any strange ships in the loch. We’ve received an update of such importance that we felt the need to return. We’ve received word young lassies are being stolen and shipped off from a base along the water. The location of your castle gives us hope that mayhap someone has witnessed something. A lone ship in the night, strange sounds coming from the ocean, anything at all. We’d hoped to interview your staff, see if they could be of assistance.”

  “You may speak with the stable lads and my steward, but that’s as far as you’ll get. I’ll not have my serving maid fretting over being sent away on a boat. Your suggestion that we might have any knowledge of such a thing is preposterous. I have never heard a single rumor about it. You have one hour, then be gone.” She spun on her heel, lifted her chin, and stomped off as though they were the worst offenders she’d ever met.

  Roddy raised his eyebrows and looked at Connor. “Now, do you understand why I wished to come here?”

  Connor merely replied, “I’ll take the steward, you head to the stable lads.”

  The stable lads were quite young, probably around ten or eleven summers. “Greetings to you both,” Roddy said. “Are you the only two lads who handle the horses?”

  “Aye,” the taller of the two replied. “Our sire is the stable master, but when he has other duties, we help out.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Over yonder. Our hut is north of the cliffs.”

  “Are you near the loch? Do you go there often?”

  They both shook their heads. “We don’t live on the water, but we do go fishing in the summer.” He could tell they hadn’t met many warriors, for their attention was more focused on his weaponry than his face.

  “Have you heard about any ships traveling in the night?”

  They both shook their heads in unison again. “My lord, may we ask you a question?” the youngest one asked, peering at his brother first.

  “Aye. Ask away.”

  “Where did you get a sword that size? I’ve not seen one that big before,” the lad asked.

  “I’m a warrior for Clan Grant. My sire had this one made for me.”

  “What must we do to earn one?” the older one asked, leaning forward as if telling a secret.

  Roddy leaned forward also. “You have to be honorable, trustworthy, and a hard worker. Then, if you fight for Clan Grant, you’ll get your own weapon from the armory.” He winked and left the lads, wandering about a bit before he left. He followed the path down to the loch, but nothing had been disturbed since his last visit. No footprints, refuse, or anything else to indicate someone else had been there.

  When Roddy met up with Connor at the front gate an hour later, neither of them had any more information than when they’d arrived.

  They reclaimed their horses and rode for a while without speaking.

  “What now?” Connor finally asked.

  “I’m heading to the abbey to ask about Rose. I still don’t like any of this.” Roddy glanced around the property, wondering if they could believe anything they’d been told. “I sense the stable lads don’t know much, but why do I feel that the rest are lying? I don’t believe they haven’t seen anything in those waters. We know it’s happening, so why wouldn’t they know about it?”

  “I agree. The steward is lying. I haven’t decided about Lady MacDole, but I’m certain he knows more than he’s saying.”

  “I need to speak with Rose,” Roddy said.

  “But Lady MacDole said you won’t be allowed to see her,” Connor reminded him.

  Roddy snorted. “And you think that will stop me?”

  ***

  Rose had slept very little because she was in a strange place. Without the waves crashing outside her window, it was eerily and uncomfortably quiet. She didn’t like it.

  It struck her that this was how her daily life would be if she were deaf in truth. How she wished she could confide in the mother abbess, but she did not wish to anger her mother. She’d seen her mother’s ire in the past. She did not relish the idea of seeing it again.

  A memory tickled in the back of Rose’s mind, asking to be released, but she forced herself not to think on it as she dressed in a dark blue wool gown. She headed down the stairs toward the hall, hoping she could at least find something to break her fast with soon. Did the others know she couldn’t speak? Would the abbess help her?

  She’d taken no more than ten steps before a lass down the passageway hurried toward her. “Greetings. Are you new here? My name is Constance. Shall we go down to the great hall together?”

  Constance had a beautiful mop of red curls and a smile that would light up any chamber. Rose’s first instinct was to trust her, so she waited for the lass to come to her. Worried she wouldn’t be able to communicate, she pasted a smile on her face and tried to think of what to do next. To her surprise, she didn’t need to do anything—Constance took her hand and tugged her along behind her, leading through the passageways and then down the staircase toward the great hall.

  Constance turned again and said, “Are you a guest or are you going to take your vows? I’m not sure yet if I will or not. I haven’t decided. My mother didn’t want me at home any longer because I have seven brothers and sisters. But I like it better here. I can read as many books as I like, and they have so many! I learned from my brother, though my mother never found out about it. She wouldn’t have allowed me to learn to read because I’m a lass. How about you? Do you read?” She promptly wrinkled her nose and said, “You did not tell me your name yet.”

  They were just outside the great hall, but it would be best to get this out sooner rather than later. Rose did the best she could to let Constance know of her failings. She hated that word, but her mother had always referred to her inability to speak as a failing.

  Covering her ears and shaking her head, she tried to indicate to Constance that she could not hear. Then she covered her mouth with her hand and shook her head.

  “What? You cannot eat? You cannot hear me? Oh my, that would be a definite problem.”

  One of the nuns came along briskly and set her hands on Rose’s shoulders. “Constance, this is Rose. She has just joined us. The abbess says she cannot hear or speak. Will you show her where to get her porridge, please?”

  Constance’s face jumped from one emotion to the next—pity, hope, sadness, then excitement. T
he sweet girl would never be able to hide her feelings, which Rose considered a great quality to have in a friend.

  A friend. Something she’d always dreamed of having someday. Though she loved her castle in the sky, as she’d always thought of it when she was a young lass, her father had often lamented that it kept her from having friends. Would Constance be her first true friend?

  She prayed it would be so. If she had just one friend, someone she could trust, she could share so much more of herself.

  Not yet. She took a deep breath and reminded herself she must be patient.

  Constance tucked Rose’s hand against her side and led the way into the hall. She babbled all the way, much to Rose’s delight. Her world was no longer silent.

  When she entered the hall, she almost stopped to stare at everything in awe. It was much larger than the MacDole hall. Rows and rows of trestle tables were arranged on the stone floor. Many crosses hung on the walls, but only a few tapestries, mostly of saints. Constance’s voice echoed because the chamber was far from full, though other young lasses were moving about and chatting quietly. A large hearth sat on either end of the hall, blazing fires heating up the cold stone walls.

  Constance whirled around to speak with her again. “I’ll show you everything. I’ve never known anyone who couldn’t hear or speak. What a terrible life for you. You’re quite beautiful, you know. If there were lads here, they’d be chasing you everywhere. Straight black hair is far more appealing than my messy red curls. The nuns are always after me to tie it back, but it just won’t go. Your hair will be lovely in a bun just so atop your head.” They took a few more steps toward the serving table at the side of the hall. Utensils, bowls, and goblets sat at one end, and a huge pot of porridge sat on the other.

  Constance’s jaw suddenly dropped as if she’d thought of something important. She spun around to face Rose, a wide grin on her face. “I’ve a wondrous idea. I’m a verra good at drawing, so mayhap I can help you communicate like that. Though ’twill be difficult to get the utensils I need.” As they reached the side table, she held up her hand as if she had a writing utensil in it, and asked, “Can you draw? Can you read? If not, I could teach you! But I’d have to see if the nuns will give me the necessary tools. Though I could show you the letters in the books from the library. We are allowed one book at a time, and there are many picture books.”

  Because of her mother’s insistence that she not be allowed to read, Rose had taken the liberty of hiding a few of her sire’s favorite books in her chamber. Afraid to bring them along to the abbey, she’d hidden them under her bed before leaving the castle, knowing her mother would probably never step inside her chamber.

  Constance seemed excited about the prospect of teaching her, something Rose wanted almost as much as she wished to see Roddy Grant again. She’d had a dream about the handsome warrior last night, but this time it was different. They’d both been talking, sharing their thoughts. It had been as lovely as any dream she’d ever had.

  Thoughts of Roddy Grant gave her more courage. Would she dare to defy her mother in this setting?

  She shook her head to answer Constance’s question, indicating she could neither draw nor read.

  To her surprise, Constance wrapped her arms around her and squeezed her until the breath nearly left her lungs. “Do not worry. I will help you. I’ll make sure the mean lasses stay away, and only the kind lasses become your friends. I’ll tell you exactly everything you must do.”

  Rose couldn’t help but focus on two words.

  Mean lasses?

  They sat together and Constance indicated for Rose to stay seated while she fetched something else from the side table. When she returned with a bit of honey, Rose nodded her thanks to Constance, who continued to babble. “I think we could come up with signs to indicate certain things. Why don’t you put your hands together like this—” she held her palms flat against each other as though in prayer, “—then you could nod. That would mean thank you and you’re welcome.”

  They both did the small bow over their hands, and Constance broke into delighted giggles.

  “I’ll teach you to read and write, then you can write your messages to me.” She giggled again and whispered, “We’ll have our own secret signs.” Constance winked and pointed from Rose’s chest to her own. “Secrets. Friends.”

  Rose struggled not to shed tears. When had anyone other than her sire offered to help her? Her mother spent as little time as possible with her. Her aunt, the wife of her sire’s brother, had visited many times prior to his death, but she hadn’t visited since his passing. If she had to guess, her mother had suggested they needed time alone. She’d heard her tell others the same, guaranteeing their isolation. Her isolation. There were no young people in her life, and until now, the only place she’d ever encountered any lasses or wee laddies had been at the kirk.

  Was her life about to change for the better?

  If so, she’d never go home.

  ***

  Rose was fine.

  Her mother would not hurt her own child.

  Perhaps she wished to become a nun.

  Roddy kept repeating the thoughts, he still did not believe them. None of them rang true for him. He had a sick feeling in his gut, something that twisted one way and then the other, no matter how he tried to reason with himself.

  His sire and Uncle Alex always swore by their hunches…

  As they approached the abbey, Connor turned to him and said, “I’ll wait out here for you once you go inside.”

  “Why not come with me?”

  “If something is going on, they’re unlikely to come out and tell us. I’ll find my way back to the stables and listen to all that’s going on.” He paused for a moment, then said, “And I’m not going back into that other building.”

  “So you’ll listen like Uncle Logan would?”

  A wry grin crossed Connor’s face at the mention of the uncle they all strived to emulate. Logan Ramsay, Maggie and Gavin’s father, worked as a spy for the Scottish Crown. There was only one person who could soften his edge—his wife, Gwyneth. Uncle Logan adored her.

  “Nay, Uncle Logan isn’t who I was thinking about exactly, but you’re close.” Connor dismounted a short distance outside the abbey, handing his favorite horse an apple as he patted his withers.

  “What’s on your mind, then?” Roddy asked once he’d dismounted, standing with his hands on his hips.

  “I was thinking about Aunt Gwyneth. Remember the stories about how she and Uncle Logan met? Wasn’t she almost sold across the waters? She fought off one of her captors and gained a reputation for going after a man’s bollocks. I was wondering what kind of network there was back then. That was decades ago.” Connor reached down for a blade of grass, carefully choosing the right one before placing it in the corner of his mouth.

  How the hell had he recalled that? “You’re right. I do remember hearing that. Didn’t she threaten to cut off Uncle Logan’s bollocks?”

  Connor broke into a wide grin, his white teeth nearly glowing. “How I wish I’d been a witness to that.”

  They laughed together, then Roddy asked, “What made you think of Aunt Gwyneth?”

  Connor stared up at the sky as dusk approached. “Most lasses aren’t trained to fight. If the Channel captures Rose, do you think she’ll be able to fight to protect herself?”

  Roddy refused to dwell on the worst possible outcome. “I haven’t known the lass long, but I sense a powerful will in her. Aye, she’d be strong enough to fight back, but I doubt she knows how to use a dagger. ’Tis something she must learn if she doesn’t have that skill. Just in case…” Roddy stared at the ground and covered his face with his hands. “I’ll teach Rose how to protect herself.”

  They arrived at the stables, and two lads came out to assist them. Once the lads took their horses, they found their way to the main gates, different from the approach they’d taken the other night.

  “State your business,” the guard shouted as he approach
ed.

  “I’m here to visit Rose MacDole, if you please.”

  “There’s no Rose MacDole here. Take your leave.”

  While the stable master had greeted them kindly just a few days before, this guard was as brusque as could be. He doubted he’d get much information from the man. It was obvious he wouldn’t get a welcome this time.

  “She’s new. Her mother told me she’s here. She’s considering taking her vows.”

  “I said no Rose MacDole. Leave now. Unless you are looking to spend the night in our guest house, you are not welcome.” The man’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword.

  Connor cast him a quick glance to let him know he would not be spending another night in the ghost house, as he had referred to it the other day. Then he headed back toward the stables.

  A fury begged to be let loose, but Roddy maintained a calm exterior while his insides churned. He forced himself to take in all the details of the abbey, just in case he needed to make a desperate move. It was a plain abbey, not as ornate as Lochluin Abbey, but the area was well fortified and there were plenty of guards about. One would not sneak away from Sona Abbey easily or get inside without some skills.

  Other than a ghost, Roddy thought, which made him think of their cousin. He couldn’t wait to see Daniel to let him know they’d seen a real ghost. Where the hell was he?

  “You’re sure about that?” he pressed. “She likely arrived yesterday.” His gaze continued to scan the area, but there was no sign of Rose—and no sign of anyone who might have a kinder greeting for him.

  “No Rose. Leave now. No visitors are allowed on certain days. This is one of them.”

  Another peculiarity, to be sure.

  He turned to take his leave, but a soft giggle caught his attention. He glanced over his shoulder and saw two lasses peeking through a small area at the entrance. They were partly concealed by the thick hedge. He’d hoped one would be dark-haired, but one was blonde and the other had hair the color of chestnuts.

  “I’ll be your rose, warrior.” The brown-haired lass licked her lips and parted them with a sigh.

  Roddy pivoted without giving her another look. The guard watched him, so he continued to move, wondering why the lasses were allowed so close to the front gate.