Thirty-Eight
“Put on the robe, quickly. Unrecognized riders approach.”
“But Sister, won’t my belly give me away?” Maddie asked fearfully.
“Go into the chapel and kneel as if in prayer. No one will bother ye, especially when ye have the robe on. I will come when it is safe. Hurry. Be careful, but walk quickly.”
Sister Margaret saw Maddie hurry towards the chapel. Once assured that she was in there, she turned into the main building.
She sat waiting.
Sister Margaret knew who was coming, for no others in the area would come calling dressed in plaid, especially with so many men, at this time; dusk had already fallen. She hadn’t wanted to tell Maddie, though. Nay, she was a few months away from giving birth and this was a very sensitive time for expecting women. This was especially true for Maddie, since she had been having difficulty with her condition.
The bell sounded loudly and a knock followed. The bell’s ring reverberated the sound of metal. Both Sister Margaret and Sister Mary went to the door. They had always had a plan in place about what to do if Connor ever came calling.
If this Scot, Connor, was rude, hateful, or vengeful, they would not tell him anything about Maddie. As far as they were concerned, they would tell him they hadn’t heard anything about her for a long time. It wasn’t a lie, the two women had joked. Until she came here, they hadn’t heard from her since before she was kidnapped from her home.
They opened the door and there stood six weary Highlanders, but one stood out from the others. He was the tallest with clear blue eyes that told a story. There, Sister Margaret saw pain, hope, and confusion.
“Sisters, pardon for the call at this late hour,” Connor began in a deep voice.
His politeness impressed and satisfied the nuns.
“Do come in, my sons. This is Sister Mary and I am Sister Margaret. You seem weary from traveling. I gather that you are Scots from your accent and dress,” Sister Margaret nodded.
The men came forward and the door was closed behind them.
“Aye, Sister, but we are God fearing men and mean ye no harm. I am Laird Connor Ramsay from the Highlands in Scotland. May I have a moment of yer time for a concern that merits discussion?”
Sister Mary took the hint.
“Sister Margaret, I will take these travelers for a bit of drink and fare. Do come along. We are quite safe here. No one bothers us. Come along,” Sister Mary clucked like a mother with her children.
Connor’s men and Athyn looked over to Connor to gauge his reaction, and to give him an awkward look that made Connor almost smile.
Once they were gone, Sister Margaret asked, “So what matter is it that you wish to discuss with me?”
“My wife, Sister. I have reason to believe that Lady Madeleine Ramsay is here and I’ve a wish to speak with her.”
Sister Margaret studied him for a long second, looking for any reason to deny him.
This politeness and slow process of speaking to the nun was killing Connor. He wanted to barge through the building, tearing and knocking doors down until he reached her. Father Dircan, however, had instilled some semblance of decorum when addressing those doing God’s will in the church.
Her next words surprised him.
“I’m not sure that is wise, Laird.”
He expected her to deny Maddie’s presence here. The Sister, however, put up no pretense.
“So she is here.” Connor looked away, and let out a long, tired sigh. He closed his eyes in what looked like relief and pain. He inhaled deeply and asked, “Why can I nay see her?”
“She is in a delicate condition.”
“What do ye mean? Sister, has she fallen ill?” he asked hurriedly.
That was all the evidence she needed. She would help the Scottish laird all that she could.
“Nay, but her condition as of late is delicate.”
“I must see her, Sister.”
“Why has it taken so long for you to travel here and speak to her? Surely the distance from Scotland isn’t so great.”
He wouldn’t have allowed such insolent words from his men, but this woman before him had God on her side.
“I believed that she was dead.”
Sister Margaret’s eye widened but she let the issue drop for the moment. His response confused her but she would hold her questions until later.
“She is in the chapel. I told her I would come when I thought it was safe for her.”
Connor nodded and Sister Margaret pointed in the direction of the chapel.
“Be gentle, Laird. She is in no condition to argue.”
He gave Sister Margaret one last curious look before turning to leave to see his dearly departed wife.
She was alive.
And she had run away from him.
Was she not in love with him any longer? Why hadn’t she just said something? She had run away from him as if she were a mistreated hostage!
His anger soared. His steps grew louder as determination spiked in his blood.
Connor opened the door to the dark chapel. Dusk had fallen now and only candles and torches lit the interior.
The first thing he saw when his eyes had accustomed themselves to the dim light was a kneeled, hunched form at the head of the chapel. There was a small wall that served as an arm and elbow rest when kneeling down. As he walked closer, his heart nearly thudded out of his chest.