Her lips transformed into a genuine smile. “Oh. Please do tell Aldred I said hello. As always, I’ve kept him in my prayers.”
“I can bring ye to him,” Lachlan said with more enthusiasm than he intended, even turning toward the general direction of the stables as he spoke. Idly chatting with the priest, who always found him lacking, was not how he wanted to spend his day.
“Many thanks, but ’tis ye I wish to speak with.”
Her piercing gaze held his, and his stomach dropped at the uncharacteristic insistence. Was he to be reprimanded by her as well? No doubt she’d been one of the nuns lined against the wall, probably listening to the Father’s admonishment, but politely pretending not to hear it.
“I am returning to Restenneth shortly, but I had hoped to enlist yer help before I do,” she said. “The three of ye.”
“As always, we would be happy to help in any way we can, though I admit Niall’s uncle keeps us quite busy in battle as of late.”
So much so that when they weren’t living off the land, sleeping wet and cold on the ground, they weren’t sure what to do with themselves.
“I was hoping ye’d say that.”
She seemed ready to burst with excitement and his heart quickened.
“Do ye have such exciting labor?” He asked half-jokingly.
“Ah, no.” Sister Elizabeth laughed. “But we did find something that will interest ye. Completely unexpected. The sisters and I have a journey we need the three of ye to make on our behalf.”
“A journey.” The idea immediately intrigued Lachlann. This might be the very thing they needed to escape Garnait’s grasping clutches and ceaseless wars. And as long as he could convince his friends to go… Lachlann smiled. He had no doubt that he could do just that. “Tell me more.”
Chapter 2
Lachlann followed them into the dimly lit interior of the chapel. Father Michael directed them to sit, but he remained standing. A small leather parcel had appeared from somewhere among the nun’s many layers of material and now rested in her lap.
When she looked at Lachlann, her eyes danced with excitement. “This winter has been exceedingly hard on the priory. Rivers changing course to divide our fields. Trees being ripped out from the roots to fall on the buttery.”
Lachlann’s shoulders tightened with concern. “But all are well? No one was hurt?”
She flashed a frown then shook her head. “No. No. All are fine.”
He rubbed his chin. This didn’t sound like a journey at all. “Then I’m stumped. Are ye looking to have repairs done?”
She fidgeted. “Aye, too many for the three of ye, but nay.”
He couldn’t remember ever seeing her so fretted.
“Not now–’tis not what I’m asking of ye.” She blew a breath in frustration and picked up the parcel. “This! This is what I’m asking of ye. We have the funds, but what we need is for ye to collect them for us.”
With great care, she untied the leather strap surrounding the deerskin package to reveal a palm-sized book. “We found this buried in the dirt.”
The vellum leaves had been sewn together with a fine stitch and encased in a cloth cover, stiff with age.
“It was tucked beneath the floor of the buttery where the old priory had been. We believe it was more than likely written by a monk. ’Tis written in Latin.”
Lachlann’s gaze immediately went to the priest who raised his brows as if in challenge.
“Latin?” Lachlann didn’t try to hide his surprise at the priest’s heretofore unknown ability.
Father Michael cleared his throat and glanced away. “Not entirely.”
Lachlann pressed his lips tight to keep from smiling.
“Aye,” Sister Elizabeth said, though she never looked up from the precious item. “The sisters and I have gone through it with great interest.”
“May I?” Lachlann opened his palm, and she gently placed the book into his hands.
