“Cairrie, you’re wrong aboot one very crucial thing. It was never, ever your fault. No woman asks to be attacked, and no mon has the right to take something that isn’t freely given. You are not to blame for any of this. Not then and not now.”
“You may believe that, but few others do. What would happen to me if I went to my marriage bed, and my husband discovered I wasn’t a virgin? He could beat me. My father could beat me. My husband could annul the marriage. I would humiliate my family and my clan. They would shun me at best, stone me at worst.”
“Cairrie, these aren’t Biblical times. No one will stone you.”
“Maybe not, but I could end up in the stalks and labeled a wanton whore for the rest of my life.” Cairstine shook her head. “I’d end up back at a convent, but rather than come with my dignity, I would arrive dishonored and dirty.”
“Cairrie, there are men out there who would marry you regardless of whether you’re a maiden. You aren’t cuckolding them. It was long enough ago that you’re obviously not carrying another mon’s bairn, nor did you bear another mon’s wean.”
“But how could I have that conversation without my father finding out or risking my secret being told by a mon disgusted by the truth?”
Eoin didn’t have an answer to the question, even though it was a fair one to ask. He remained silent as Cairstine leaned her head against Eoin’s chest. The steady thud of his heartbeat soothed her. Her eyes widened, and she froze as an idea came to her. She leaned back and studied Eoin’s face, confusion slowly clouding his eyes.
“You could do it,” Cairstine announced.
“I could do what?” Eoin pretended to not understand as his heart raced.
“You could offer to marry me. I mean, only temporarily.” Cairstine stepped back from Eoin, her hands clasped before her chest in excitement. “I only need to be betrothed long enough for Fenella to marry. We could come up with a reason why we can’t wed first, then once Fenny is wed, you could call it off.”
“No, Cairstine. No. Whether I call it off or you do, I can’t. I won’t be a party to such deception. It’s not just your family we would be lying to. I won’t lie to Ewan, Allyson, and my father.”
“You can tell them the truth. We only need to convince my family.”
“And when we break it off? When I walk away from you or you claim I’ve done something egregious enough to call it off, what woman would consider marrying me after that? I may have bedded my fair share of women, but I want to enter a marriage with my honor intact. I want a marriage in truth, not in name only. No woman would trust me enough to agree to marry me, nor would they believe I’m not so fickle that I would be unfaithful.”
Cairstine’s heart sank. Everything Eoin said was valid. She hadn’t expected him to want a genuine marriage as much as his words and tone conveyed. She remembered what he’d told her about his parents’ marriage and how he wanted his to be different. She hadn’t thought far enough ahead to the aftermath for Eoin. She’d figured they would break it off, and she’d either live out her days as a spinster or end up back at a convent.
“You’re right, Eoin. I shouldn’t have asked that of you. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Cairrie, I still want to help you, but I can’t enter a fake betrothal with you. We’ll come up with something else.” Eoin scrubbed his hand over his face. The idea of marrying Cairstine hadn’t repelled him. But once she said it would be a phony engagement and not a marriage, he could do nothing but balk at the idea. “I take it this means you don’t want to remain here.”
Cairstine shook her head but shrugged. “I don’t know. Even if Mother Abbess accepts me, I don’t know that this is the right place for me. I will stay a few days, and then I will decide.”
“Then I will remain too. If you decide to remain, I will return to Huntly. If you want to leave, I will escort you wherever you want.”
“I can’t delay your family for days. You shouldn’t be inconvenienced either.”
“They won’t be. I’ll send a message for them to go on without me. I’ll ask that two Gordon guards remain to ride with me. And it’s not an inconvenience, Cairrie. We’re friends.”
“Friends?” Cairstine seemed to turn the idea over in her head. “I like that. Thank you, Eo.”
Eo? I rather like that. But why the devil does it sound so horrible when Cairstine says we’re just friends. I’m the one who bluidy well suggested it.Eoin bit his tongue and escorted Cairstine out of the solar and found the prioress waiting for them in the antechamber. Without a word, the prioress led Eoin to the guest quarters before taking Cairstine to the nun’s dormitory.
Chapter Eleven
Over the next three days Cairstine fell into a routine. She rose before the sun, which was unfamiliar after two years at court, where many people didn’t rise until midmorning if not noon. She donned the plain brown wool gown a nun had brought her after Mother Abbess showed her the cell she shared with a postulant. Cairstine suspected the woman was younger than her, but she barely acknowledged Cairstine’s greeting, so Cairstine abandoned hope of conversation. The women would shuffle along the cloister in lines as they made their way to Mass.
Cairstine hadn’t attended Lauds since she lived at home, since she never rose at dawn while at court. During her brief visits, her mother had taken pity on Cairstine, who was no longer accustomed to rising so early. Her first visit, her parents allowed her to sleep until Prime, which was only an hour after Lauds in winter. The sun’s appearance before the five o’clock hour made Lauds even earlier and had tempted her to never visit Freuchie during the summer. When she could barely keep her eyes open during Prime, both of her parents relented and allowed Cairstine to join them for Terce, which was midmorning. Despite Queen Elizabeth’s devout faith, it had come as a shock to Cairstine when she arrived at court and Terce was the first service anyone other than monks attended, and even then, there were few in the chapel. She’d happily adapted to fewer Mass services than her dogmatic father insisted.
After Lauds, Cairstine joined the sisters in the refectory to break her fast with bread and porridge. It was her largest meal of the day, and she found her stomach grumbled hours before Sext, the midday Mass. One of the oldest sisters slipped her a heel of bread before Terce her second and third day. The woman’s empathy surprised her, but when she opened her mouth to thank the nun, the kindly sister put her finger to her lips.
Cairstine spent the morning between Terce and Sext in the garden. She had spent hours assisting her mother in the gardens at Freuchie, and she enjoyed the feel of the fresh soil in her hands as she weeded alongside several postulants and novices. After the nooning, which was a chunk of bread and a piece of cheese, Cairstine joined the postulants for their religious studies. The nun in charge stomped about the chamber, raising her voice beside any woman whose attention seemed to drift. The first day Cairstine was there, the nun seemed to take root beside Cairstine for much of the time.
The postulants made their way to the back of the chapel for the mid-afternoon service but returned for more instruction after None. Cairstine’s head ached from too much information and too little food each day when she entered the chapel a sixth time for Vespers. She didn’t mind that service, since it was the first time that she could relax all day. The service indicated the workday was over, and the evening meal approached. The evening meal was an insubstantial broth and more bread, but they spent it in silent contemplation until Compline, the last service of the day. She fell onto her cot exhausted, her eyes falling shut immediately. But Matins disturbed her sleep. She noticed that even the most experienced nuns were bleary-eyed throughout the three nocturns that they recited before they returned to their cells for three more hours of sleep. Then the day repeated itself.
By the end of the third day, Cairstine was fatigued but had accepted the new routine. Her mind wandered frequently during the Masses, and she prayed for forgiveness for sinning within the house of the Lord, but she spent the time trying to determine whether she could spend the rest of her life in a constant rotation of prayer and meditation. She’d known this would be the life of a nun, but she hadn’t understood it until arriving. She enjoyed the peacefulness of the priory, and the silence was a welcome reprieve after the constant noise and crowds at court. But she feared she wouldn’t survive the isolation and detachment inherent to the nuns’ lifestyle. The more she thought about how no one would embrace her again, the more her mind dwelled on the feeling of being wrapped in Eoin’s arms. She’d spied him several times during the Masses, and he appeared for walks during her hours in the garden, but they were never given an opportunity to talk. She suspected he timed his walks so he could keep an eye on her. His silent presence reassured her, and she found herself fearful of when that protectiveness ended.
The abbot remained at the priory longer than seemed normal. Cairstine noticed she was not the only young woman made uncomfortable by his presence. She noticed the nuns had two reactions to the monk: aversion and familiarity. Eoin’s warning that monks were still men beneath their robes echoed in her mind, and Cairstine suspected that was very much true of Father Abbot. She ensured other women surrounded her, and she remained within Eoin’s sight whenever the abbot was present.
