“She’s in the barn,” Quiver said and went on to explain without being asked. “I told her that King has been sneaking off in there each morning and she wondered what he’s been up to, so she went to see. Princess is in the kitchen pretending to rest by the hearth when she’s really waiting to see what other food she can get. Mistress Purity told me to let you know where she was if you should wake and search for her before she returned.”
“Thank you, Quiver,” Arran said, pleased his wife wisely kept him informed of her whereabouts.
“The morning meal goes to the table shortly, sir,” Iona said.
Arran acknowledged her with a brief nod before he went through the passageway to the kitchen, where, sure enough, Princess was keeping a close watch on the food being prepared on the different tables. Once outside, it wasn’t that far to the barn.
There was a strong chill to the air and the sky was overcast. Villagers mingled and saw to chores, spending what time they could outside before the weather forced them inside for a good portion of the day, not that Arran would mind. He looked forward to this winter. He intended to spend a good part of it alone with his wife, in their bedchamber, doing all sorts of wicked things with her.
He smiled and grew aroused just thinking about it.
“Good thoughts, my son?” the Abbott asked.
A silent oath caught at Arran’s lips. He’d been so busy with wicked thoughts of his wife, he hadn’t notice the Abbott approach. Not thinking it wise to lie to the Abbott, he spoke the truth. “Very good thoughts, Abbott Thomas.”
“I’m glad to hear that. The clans in this area could use good thoughts and smiles, and a wedding ceremony and feast will surely help with that. Tell me, Arran, do you think there is much danger from this Brynjar?” the Abbott asked as he came to a stop near him.
“I’ve fought many a battle while with the mercenaries and many against heathens. There was not one that came close to being as evil as Brynjar. I don’t even know if the devil would want him.”
“That says much, my son. I will pray for the poor man’s soul.”
“Don’t bother, Abbott. He doesn’t have a soul. I don’t believe many of the heathens I met have souls,” Arran said, memories of wild men, their faces scribed with painted symbols, screaming with rage, rushing at him. The unwelcome images reminded him of the hellish years he had spent fighting. “Be glad you battle evil with prayers, Abbott.”
“I raised a sword when I was a much younger man,” the Abbott confessed to Arran’s surprise. “That and the loss of one I held dear turned me to God, and while I haven’t raised a sword since, you’re right—my weapon now is prayer. It’s mightier than the sword has ever been.”
“I don’t know if I can agree with you on that, Abbott Thomas, but I admire your belief and courage.”
“And I admire you for wedding Purity and seeing her kept safe.”
Arran didn’t know if it was because Abbott was a man of God and it was easy to confess to him or that he simply wanted the man to know the truth. “I did wed her to keep her safe, but now when you wed us it will be because I love her.” He felt something swell strong in his chest. “I love Purity beyond words and I will always love her. She has my heart and I’m glad for it.”
Abbott Thomas stared at him for a moment as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “You are a blessed man more than you know, my son. Love is more easily lost than it is found and when found, it should be cherished and kept close to the heart.”
“Abbott Thomas, come, the morning meal awaits us,” Galvin called out. “You too, Arran.”
It wasn’t lost on Arran that the man didn’t ask for his daughter to join them. “Don’t wait for me, Abbott, enjoy the meal,”
“I hope you and Purity will join us soon,” Abbott Thomas said and turned to join Galvin and the two set a slow pace to the keep.
Arran stopped at the fenced in area attached to the barn. He had ordered it built so that Hope was not always confined to the barn. She came to him right away eager for his attention which he lavished on her.
“Edward will see that you shelter safely inside if rain comes,” he said, stroking the mare’s face. The young lad Edward had taken quite a fancy to Hope and Hope to him.
Arran made his way to the barn and stopped before entering. He had enjoyed many a pleasant poke with a willing woman in a barn similar to this one. Now he couldn’t ever fathom doing such a thing again, at least not with any woman but his wife. He shook his head. He couldn’t poke her in the barn. It wouldn’t seem right.