Guilty Pleasures
The next morning, amid the hustle and bustle of castle folk gathered for the first meal of the day, Broderick drummed his fingers on the rough surface of the wooden table, impatient for Kyla and Lily to arrive.
Last night, he’d suggested a place on the banks of the Nith where they might begin their lessons early in the day since the burial was to take place in the afternoon.
Had he not been keeping an eye on the entryway, he might have missed Hamish.
When Broderick beckoned, the faithful old gatekeeper ambled over. “My laird,” he said with a deferential bow.
“Not often we see ye here for breakfast,” Broderick teased. It was common knowledge Hamish liked to sleep late, and not always in his own bed.
“Nay, weel, I’ve a visitor, and I thought to take him a tasty morsel to break his fast.”
Broderick arched a brow. “A visitor? From where?”
Hamish scratched his head. “Dinna rightly ken. He’s a monk. Arrived yestereve after a boating mishap.”
Gooseflesh marched across Broderick’s nape. “Is he from Darling Abbey?”
“That’s the odd thing. He says nay, but…” He narrowed his eyes. “Sorry if I’ve done wrong, my laird. What else could a man do but offer shelter to a servant of God?”
Broderick pondered the news. A murdered sexton from Darling, and a monk who claimed to be from a different abbey. But there wasn’t another monastery for at least a hundred miles. Could it be that one of the monks had gone berserk and fled? Monastic life sometimes drove men to madness.
At that moment, Kyla and Lily entered the hall, both wearing trews, shirts, tunics and boots.
A collective gasp arose from the crowded hall.
Thoughts of murderous monks and monasteries fled. “Er, nay, I’ll meet him when we leave in a while.”
Hamish nodded and wandered away as Broderick turned his gaping attention to the lasses. “Where did ye acquire that outfit, Lily Maxwell?”
He tried unsuccessfully to load the question with censure but, truth be told, his little sister looked fetching in boys’ clothing.
“They’re Adrian’s,” she replied with a broad smile.
“Someone found togs for Corbin’s valet,” Kyla explained, “and Lily persuaded him to share.”
There was a time when he’d known what his sister was doing every minute of the day. Apparently, she’d made friends he was unaware of. He’d have to be more vigilant.
“And what about ye?” he asked, aware as he posed the question it wasn’t seemly to inquire of a woman he barely knew where she’d procured her clothing.
She winked at him.
Winked!
He tried to wink back, but winking didn’t seem to be a skill he possessed at that moment.
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” she replied, sauntering off to the servery to help herself to food.
*
Kyla preferred not to disclose she’d filched the clothing from the laundry, having posted Lily as the lookout.
They both kept silent as they helped themselves to cold mutton and bread, but it was evident Lily was shaking with pent-up laughter, just as she was. “Dinna laugh,” she warned as they made their way to the high table. “Yer brother might renege on his promise to accompany us if he finds out what we’ve been up to.”
Lily pursed her lips as she took her place.
Kyla sat, not a little bothered at how easily she’d fallen into thinking of this as her rightful spot. No point getting used to Caerlochnaven. She’d soon be going back to Skye. Strangely, she wasn’t looking forward to returning home—but that was only because she’d have to break the news to her father about the birlinn, and tell the drowned men’s parents how they died. Her amusement fled at the sharp reminder of the impending interment.
“Ye look serious,” Broderick remarked with a smile.
His deep voice was melodious, even when he was asking an ordinary question. She’d like to hear him sing.
She reined in her errant thoughts. “I was thinking we should discuss how my crew and I are getting back to Skye.”
The smile left his face and he shifted his weight on the bench. “Aye.”
Lily thrust out her bottom lip. “Ye canna go yet. I’ll miss ye.”
“Weel,” Broderick said, taking Kyla’s hand, “to be honest, the journey’s going to take a good while to arrange. In the meantime, ye can teach me and Lily how to master a sling.”
Was it the warmth of his hand seeping into her skin that stole her wits? “And in return ye can sing for me.”
*
Broderick held on to Kyla’s hand like a lifeline, his emotions all at sea. “I’ve wanted to many a time,” he confessed. “I love to sing, but it seemed like a guilty pleasure in these dire times.”
He held his breath when she gripped his hand and leaned close to his ear.
“We shouldna feel guilty doing things that bring pleasure to others,” she whispered. “I believe Lily would find solace in yer singing.”
He glanced at his sister, happily chewing bread. A stranger from the Hebrides had seen what he’d failed to see. He’d been so busy tending to Lily’s physical needs—clothing, food, and the like—he’d overlooked her deepest need.
“Ye’re right, Kyla MacKeegan,” he replied loudly enough for Lily to hear. “While we’re out and about learning how to slay giants, I might just burst into song.”
Lily beamed and hugged his arm. “He has a lovely voice,” she assured Kyla.
“Eat up, then,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I’ll meet ye in the tunnel. Hamish has a visitor.”