As expected, Iain didn’t have to wait long before Father Brennan appeared from the confines of the monastery. Iain’s stallion pranced sideways, nudging a warrior’s horse to his left.

“Father,” Iain said as the priest neared where he and his men waited.

“Good day, Iain.” Father Brennan smiled. “What brings you to Montrose Abbey?”

“Unfinished business.”

Father Brennan lifted a hand and shielded his eyes against the glare of the morning sun. “Stealing tends to interfere with a man’s business.”

“No absolution for my sins, Father?” The priest started to answer, but Iain interrupted. “Thomas heard rumblings of trouble from the Menzies clan, but I have seen no sign of them.”

The priest gave his chin a vigorous rub. “I remember you asking me when…well, I have heard of no problems. What made your cousin think there was trouble?”

“You know how it is with Thomas. He has a knack for knowing these things. He instructed me to stop here, so I did.” Iain laughed. “One would think it was not I who led the MacPhersons, but him.”

“Good of you to oblige him,” the priest said with no little amusement. “I will let him know you did your duty.”

“Christ, I would almost accuse the two of you of being in league against me. With him to the north and you in the south, I feel like a puppet being pulled to and fro.”

“You, a puppet?” Father Brennan grunted. “It will snow in hell when I see that.”

Despite the Father’s mirth, Iain didn’t miss the flicker of unnamed emotion on his face. “I assume I missed your visit to Fauldun Castle?” Iain asked.

“You did. I was not sure when you would return and could not tarry long. I will return in a fortnight.”

“How did you find things there?”

“Well enough.”

“A shame the trip was for naught,” Iain said.

“Do not fret.” Father Brennan waved him off, and Iain knew the priest was purposely acting dense.

“There is always much to do when I visit Fauldun Castle. It had been some time since I have been on

MacPherson land.” He raised a recriminating brow.

“Far too many of your men havna’ had confession. Come to think of it, neither have you. God knows you could use it.”

“Perhaps it is too late for me?”

“Mayhap.”

“You saw the lass?”

The priest made a show of searching his memory.

“I believe I did.”

“How did you find her?”

“Well enough, considering.”

“Considering?” At the grave shake of Father Brennan’s head, Iain tensed.

“Considering, she is not among those who care for her.”

All fear, along with Iain’s generous mood, vanished. “She is among those who care for her. You would do well not to insinuate otherwise.”

“Aye, well…you know what I mean.”

“I understand what you wish to accomplish, but

’tis unnecessary.”

Father Brennan’s lips tightened. “She wishes to return to the abbey.”

Iain sighed. “I have been away too long. What did she tell you?”

“That is between her and me.”

“I cannot help but notice you never refer to her by name.”

Father Brennan scratched his head. “I had not noticed.”

“What would her name be, Father?” Iain recognized the feigned look of surprise on the priest’s face.

“You mean she did not tell you?” He made a tsking sound. “What a shame.”

“I would be obliged if you told me.”

Father Brennan smiled. “I was wondering how long it would take you to ask me outright. She instructed me not to tell you.”

Iain raised a brow. “Instructed? Seems to be a lot of that going around.”

Another laugh. “Aye, she threatened me with the fires of hell should I betray her confidence.”

The twitch at Iain’s mouth tugged hard. “An interesting threat.”

“Thank God she was born a woman. A man with that cunning would be dangerous.”

“What did she do?”

“She asked to make confession, and during confession she told me her name was—” he cleared his throat. “Afterward, she reminded me that everything in the confessional was privileged.”

“Surely you can see through such a ruse,” Iain blurted.

Father Brennan’s mouth puckered. “Mayhap, but you took her, so now you will have to deal with her on her terms.”

“What terms would those be?” Iain asked, though sure he was getting a fine dose of those terms now.

The priest chuckled. “Lad, if I knew that, I would be given sainthood.” His expression sobered. “Her pride has been injured.”

“What do you mean?”

“You took her without so much as a by-yourleave.”

“That has nothing to do with pride. It is the way of things.”

“She is a grown woman, not a young maid. She would prefer to make her own choices and not be dictated to by a husband.”

“The choice has been made.”

“That is not the impression she gave,” Father Brennan replied. “You, on the other hand, have not so much as a pang of conscience?”

“I made no secret I wanted her.”

“Aye.”

“Does she look abused to you?” Iain demanded.

“Nay,” came the grudging reply. There was a moment of silence. “You want her—and you know what I mean,” the priest added with a narrowing of his eyes.

Iain answered with a slow nod.

“I suppose we should talk, then.” Father Brennan turned toward the monastery. “If you wish to go any further, you will come and sit like a civilized man.” He glanced at the darkening sky. “Looks to be a bit of rain.” He was on the grounds now. “The world was not created on your terms, Iain MacPherson, and ’tis time you acted accordingly.”

Admiration surfaced and Iain tossed the reins to one of his men. In one easy motion, he slid from the saddle, then stepped onto holy ground.

* * *

It came as no surprise to learn that Thomas had hit the mark. The lady’s father had been the Marquess of Washburn. Iain couldn’t help regretting that the marquess no longer lived. It would have been interesting to learn what manner of man allowed his daughter to follow the masculine pursuits of science and mathematics. The picture of father and daughter, heads huddled together across a desk, debating the Commentaries on Mathematical and Astronomical Topics, vanished as Father Brennan’s story ventured into a dark element.

“’Tis plain her husband hurt her.” Father Brennan shook his head.

Iain focused on the smaller man behind the desk.

“What do you mean, hurt her?”

“He beat her.”

“She appears fit.”

“I do not think he made a habit of it, and she is a strong woman. But I am of a mind that was not the worst of it.” The priest hesitated another moment before saying, “He was not good to her in the marriage bed.”

Iain felt a hard tug at his gut. “Can you elaborate?”

Father Brennan sighed. “You know I cannot speak of what goes on in the confessional.”

Iain frowned. “She has confessed some terrible sin?”

“Nay. At least, none I believe are her doing.”

“Christ, man, you speak in riddles. Get to the point.”

“He kept his cousin as a mistress.”

With a faint shake of his head, Iain said, “I cannot imagine wanting one when a man had her, but it is a common enough thing.”

“Not so common—the woman lived in his house.”

Iain lifted a brow. “By God, and they call us heathens.” Sensing things had not quite come to an end, he added, “There is more?”

“I was wondering if you plan on keeping

Madeline?”

Caught off guard, Iain was unable to conceal his surprise. “What do you know of Madeline?”

Father Brennan grunted a laugh. “I am a priest, but that does not make me dull witted. I have been coming to Fauldun Castle for many years. I hear what goes on.”

Iain scowled. “Aye, but who is speaking to you of my mistress?”

The priest shrugged. “A man hears things, even if he is a priest. Are you afraid to answer my question?”

Iain regarded him. “I am of a mind you jest, but if it eases your mind, I have no intention of keeping Madeline now that I have—what did you say her name was?”

Father Brennan’s bushy brows rose.

“Well,” Iain drawled, “the lady then.” He grimaced. “God in heaven, I would not have the energy, even if I tried.”

“You do not seem unhappy with the prospect.”

“Nay,” Iain agreed. “I am not.”