leg.
The giant grunted in pain and released the woman he held, reaching instinctively to brace
himself as he tumbled toward the floor of the chapel. The petite woman threw herself to
the side to avoid being crushed by his weight, but was on her feet and at the dark-haired
woman's side in a flash, reaching for the smaller second sword to arm herself.
“What goes on here?” Sister Blanche and Lady Helen straightened guiltily from their bent
positions before the door of the chapel. They had listened to Seonaid's order but hadn't
fully obeyed. They had gone so far as to leave the chapel, but it was as far as either of
them had been willing to go. Pausing in the hall, they had cracked the door open and
watched the commotion within as Lady Seonaid and her cousin faced off against the
plaid-clad man inside. Now Blanche and Helen whirled to face the abbess as she strode down
the hallway toward them, the skirts of her dark gown flowing out behind her.
“Mother!” Sister Blanche peered at the woman in dismay, then glanced guiltily toward the
door to the chapel before straightening her shoulders. “Scots have infiltrated the abbey.
Lady Seonaid and Lady Aeldra are fending them off.”
“What!” The abbess stared at her askance. “It was the English you were to let in, not the
Scots. My God, Blanche, what have you done?”
“What indeed,” Lady Helen muttered bitterly. “Just opened the door under your direction to
allow men to have at the women who sought protection within these sacred walls.”
Lady Elizabeth stiffened at the accusation, sending an accusing glare toward Sister
Blanche. She then
strode stiffly to the door and threw it open, surveying the battle taking place in the
heart of her abbey as Little George found his feet and joined Blake to face the armed
women.
“What goes on here? This is a house of God! Would you battle here as if 'twere a tavern?”
Seonaid froze at the harsh shriek, as did the other combatants. Still facing the two men
squared off against them, she cast a quick frown toward the abbess, her disdain obvious.
“Open the door to the devil and he's like to walk in,” she snapped impatiently. “Ye
ordered the door unbarred; do not now cry foul because the wrong suitor entered and we now
defend Lady Helen from the man who would murder her.”
The abbess glanced sharply toward the two armed men, her gaze quickly taking in the
fairer, smaller man's Scottish garb and the larger man's English clothes. She also noted
the confusion on the men's faces as they took in Lady Seonaid's words. “How know you they
are Camerons? One wears English dress.”
Seonaid glanced toward the larger man, for the first time taking in the English clothes he
wore. She had neglected to note that fact while in the heat of battle.
“And one wears the plaid,” she pointed out, then sneered at the woman standing so
self-righteous in the door of the chapel. “Howbeit, mayhap yer right. While I never would
have thought to see a Sassenach in Scottish garb, I also never would have thought to see
an abbess who cared so little for her God and her charges, she would be willin' to throw
them to the wolves as ye've done.”
Lady Elizabeth turned bright red, then suddenly paled as her eyes strayed past her to the
room at large. Curious about her reaction, Seonaid turned to find the other men had
struggled out from beneath the tapestry and were straightening their clothes. Her eyes
widened. She immediately recognized the bishop and Lord Rolfe, though she had never before
seen the prelate wearing the expression of mingled distaste and fury with which he was
eyeing Lady Elizabeth.
“Bishop” the abbess began faintly, but the bishop cut her off.
“I heard it all, madam, every word as I struggled to get out from beneath that accursed
tapestry. Do not further your sins by spouting lies at me now.”
“But
The giant grunted in pain and released the woman he held, reaching instinctively to brace
himself as he tumbled toward the floor of the chapel. The petite woman threw herself to
the side to avoid being crushed by his weight, but was on her feet and at the dark-haired
woman's side in a flash, reaching for the smaller second sword to arm herself.
“What goes on here?” Sister Blanche and Lady Helen straightened guiltily from their bent
positions before the door of the chapel. They had listened to Seonaid's order but hadn't
fully obeyed. They had gone so far as to leave the chapel, but it was as far as either of
them had been willing to go. Pausing in the hall, they had cracked the door open and
watched the commotion within as Lady Seonaid and her cousin faced off against the
plaid-clad man inside. Now Blanche and Helen whirled to face the abbess as she strode down
the hallway toward them, the skirts of her dark gown flowing out behind her.
“Mother!” Sister Blanche peered at the woman in dismay, then glanced guiltily toward the
door to the chapel before straightening her shoulders. “Scots have infiltrated the abbey.
Lady Seonaid and Lady Aeldra are fending them off.”
“What!” The abbess stared at her askance. “It was the English you were to let in, not the
Scots. My God, Blanche, what have you done?”
“What indeed,” Lady Helen muttered bitterly. “Just opened the door under your direction to
allow men to have at the women who sought protection within these sacred walls.”
Lady Elizabeth stiffened at the accusation, sending an accusing glare toward Sister
Blanche. She then
strode stiffly to the door and threw it open, surveying the battle taking place in the
heart of her abbey as Little George found his feet and joined Blake to face the armed
women.
“What goes on here? This is a house of God! Would you battle here as if 'twere a tavern?”
Seonaid froze at the harsh shriek, as did the other combatants. Still facing the two men
squared off against them, she cast a quick frown toward the abbess, her disdain obvious.
“Open the door to the devil and he's like to walk in,” she snapped impatiently. “Ye
ordered the door unbarred; do not now cry foul because the wrong suitor entered and we now
defend Lady Helen from the man who would murder her.”
The abbess glanced sharply toward the two armed men, her gaze quickly taking in the
fairer, smaller man's Scottish garb and the larger man's English clothes. She also noted
the confusion on the men's faces as they took in Lady Seonaid's words. “How know you they
are Camerons? One wears English dress.”
Seonaid glanced toward the larger man, for the first time taking in the English clothes he
wore. She had neglected to note that fact while in the heat of battle.
“And one wears the plaid,” she pointed out, then sneered at the woman standing so
self-righteous in the door of the chapel. “Howbeit, mayhap yer right. While I never would
have thought to see a Sassenach in Scottish garb, I also never would have thought to see
an abbess who cared so little for her God and her charges, she would be willin' to throw
them to the wolves as ye've done.”
Lady Elizabeth turned bright red, then suddenly paled as her eyes strayed past her to the
room at large. Curious about her reaction, Seonaid turned to find the other men had
struggled out from beneath the tapestry and were straightening their clothes. Her eyes
widened. She immediately recognized the bishop and Lord Rolfe, though she had never before
seen the prelate wearing the expression of mingled distaste and fury with which he was
eyeing Lady Elizabeth.
“Bishop” the abbess began faintly, but the bishop cut her off.
“I heard it all, madam, every word as I struggled to get out from beneath that accursed
tapestry. Do not further your sins by spouting lies at me now.”
“But
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