“Don’t even think about it,” Arran warned when they sat at a table in the Great Hall that had food and drink waiting for them. His hand clasped her arm. “I saw the way your eyes lingered on the woods and the yearning for the solace such a visit would bring you. This is no time for a visit to the woods, for you or for me, even with a troop of warriors to guard us.”
She rested her hand over his. “I would never take such a chance with either of our lives, and I have all the solace I need with you.”
It did his heart good to hear that she got the same comfort from him that the woods brought her. However, he had to ask, “But it was a thought?”
“Aye, husband, you know me well,” she said and rested her head on his shoulder, a place that she favored more and more each day. Then there was his scent. It was rich and manly and far too enticing.
He kissed the top of her head. “I will grow to know you better not only in the weeks and months to come but in the years to come.”
She loved that he let her know he planned on being with her for years. The thought of the many years ahead of them, of their life together, filled her with joy. She prayed it would be so and prayed no one else would lose their life—especially her husband.
Purity was busy the remainder of the day seeing that everything was made ready for the wedding and celebration. Not that there was much pleasure in it. Orvin’s murder had put a fright into everyone. There was endless speculation of what Brynjar would do next, many believing he would ride on the village and kill everyone.
She, however, found it difficult to believe that Brynjar was behind the murders and the more she thought on it, the more it troubled her. The problem was who else could it possibly be and why kill the two men?
With her husband and father cloistered in the solar and nothing else to be done for the day, Purity sat at a table near the hearth in the Great Hall. A windy chill was seeping through the stone walls, reminding that the fires needed constant attention to keep the rooms warm.
Princess and King were curled near the heat of the hearth sound asleep, having had a busy day. They would spend time with Arran and Quiver throughout the day, but always made their way back to her. She stared at the tankard of warm cider cupped in her hands, wishing she could calm her churning thoughts.
“You look troubled, my child.”
Purity’s head shot up to see Abbott Thomas.
“There is much to think about, Abbott.”
He sat on the bench opposite her at the table and rested his hands n his lap. “Don’t think, pray on the matter.”
“I do both, but things still elude me,” Purity confessed.
“Give it time as your friend does.”
Had she heard him correctly? Caution had her asking, “And what friend is that, Abbott Thomas?”
“The friend who has traveled a difficult road, visits the monastery more often than you would think, has been grateful for your silence, and most of all is eager to see you again.”
“You’ll forgive me, Abbott Thomas, if I’m not sure of who you refer to.” She couldn’t be careful enough, not after all this time. She had surmised the monastery had in some way been an ally to Raven. In what way she wasn’t sure and she hadn’t wanted to jeopardize Raven’s safety by making too many inquiries.
“Of course, my child, I understand you not trusting and not acknowledging your friend, and it is wise of you. But I will tell you this… an agreement has been made and sworn to. There will be no changing it and many will have to accept it. You and others can take solace in the knowledge that it was done unselfishly and with much love and return the same in kind.”
“Why do you tell me this?” she asked, remaining skeptical, though curious about his cryptic message.
“Your friend thought it prudent you know and I waited for a moment I believed would be prudent to tell you,” he explained.
Her curiosity and skepticism remained strong and had her asking, “How did you come to know my friend?”
“A mutual acquaintance introduced us.”
“Do I know this person?” Purity asked, continuing to probe.
“I’m truly sorry, but I’m not at liberty to say. I’m sure you understand.”
She didn’t acknowledge his response since her skepticism remained. He either used it as an excuse, not truly knowing the name, or he meant to protect the person by not revealing it.
“You’re cautious, not sure of me,” the Abbott said.
“It’s not you, Abbott Thomas. It has been my way for a long time. I learned from a young age to trust little of what I hear and less of what I see—both can deceive.”