Read Online True Highland Spirit by Amanda Forester - Free Book Online Page B

silver chest, and he would. Finding the treasure was his purpose. His quest. Nothing must stand in his way.
    Ah, but Morrigan… Dragonet flopped down on his pallet and pushed the traitorous thoughts aside. He was a monk. A monk! It did not matter he had taken those vows at such a tender age he had no idea what he was denying himself. It was done. He must banish the confusing feelings that emerged whenever he thought of her. His future was his mission. It could never be anything else.
    He forced himself to evaluate the situation logically and focus back on his mission. In his travels, he had learned that Templar knights had come to Scotland and joined Robert the Bruce in his war against England. But that had been years ago. He had discovered the names of several knights, but all had died. A grandson of one of the knights had been found, but he was living in a poor crofter’s hut, drinking his way through day and night. Dragonet had searched the unassuming hut, and found nothing but squalor.
    More Templar knights may have existed, but who and where he did not know. He did learn the office of the bishop of Glasgow had been traditionally sympathetic to the Scots’ cause. Could the Templars have found in him an ally? The bishop’s castle would make an excellent hiding place. What was the bishop’s agenda? And why did Morrigan point a crossbow at his back?
    Thoughts of Morrigan flooded back, unbidden and unwelcome. He closed his eyes, but he could still see hear her voice… what would she say to him? Even in his dreams she insulted him.
    The darkness in his room turned a softer shade of gray. Dawn would be soon. It was time to go back to the castle and determine whether the bishop was friend or foe.

Seven
     
    By the time Morrigan dragged the carcass of the deer back to the bishop’s castle, the sun threatened to rise and her body threatened to collapse. Her back hurt, her arms hurt, her feet hurt, but she welcomed the pain that focused her thoughts on something other than a certain minstrel turned French knight.
    Morrigan hoisted the carcass over her shoulders, ignoring the screaming blaze of pain spreading down her back. Focus on the pain. Better than thinking of Jacques or Dragonet or whatever his name was. Morrigan pounded on the door to the servants’ entrance and dropped the beast at the feet of a surprised maid.
    “I caught a bastard poaching deer on the bishop’s land,” lied Morrigan. “I scared him off but no’ before he took down this buck. It belongs to the bishop. Is my brother McNab here? I need to speak to him. Where did ye say he was staying?”
    The servant girl stared at the dead creature, then at Morrigan, then back at the carcass, but eventually led Morrigan down a narrow hallway. Morrigan was shown into a small room with a stone fireplace and two wooden benches. The fireplace was unlit, the walls were plain, and the only light came from a small window. The maid left without saying a word.
    Morrigan sat heavily on a wooden bench. The room was so spare she guessed it was rarely used, probably reserved for guests of unknown class and origin, such as herself.
    “Morrigan! By the saints, what happened to ye?” Archie McNab burst into the room with his long stride, but stopped short, his eyes widening. Morrigan glanced down at herself and noted with some disgust that the deer had bled down her side. She was not only dirty but half covered in blood and gore as well. She was surprised the wench let her in the castle at all.
    “I am unhurt. I brought a deer for His Grace.”
    McNab opened his mouth as if to speak but only shook his head with a shrug. “Ye’re daft. Always was.”
    “Nice to see ye too, Brother,” Morrigan ground out.
    “’Tis good to see ye, truly. But what are ye doing here? How is the clan?”
    “Fine, no thanks to ye. Why have ye been gone so long? We took ye for dead.” Morrigan was not sure if she should be joyful or furious to find Archie in such good health.
    “Did ye