Peter glanced again at the woman. “Your name is Brighit? Of what clan?”
“The MacNau—”
Ivan stepped in front of her. “She is called Brighit. We are taking her—”
Peter turned sharply toward the short man. “Ivan? Methinks I would like to hear her answer.”
Ivan shrugged as if it were of little importance what she would say. “She’s not in her right mind.”
“What?”
“She’s a bit of a loon.”
Brighit turned her face away.
She didn’t appear unhitched.
“And you’re bringing her where?”
“The Priory.”
“At Tanshelf.” Her voice startled them both and they glanced toward her. She kept her face averted.
The Priory? A ripe body like hers was intended for a man’s pleasure. His sex-starved body immediately reacted, filling in the scene for his imagination. Those dark eyes deepening with passion. Those succulent, sweet, red lips parted into a sensual smile. Those firm, full breasts filling his hands.
He took a moment—and a slow, deep breath—to form a coherent response.
“Tanshelf?” The image of a monastery finally came to him. One of many King William had put under the control of his brother Odo. It solidified his rightful rule of the area. “Are you fleeing there for protection?”
Ivan watched him with a hardened expression. The other men were alert for the answer as well. The tension was thick.
“I am to become a bride of Christ.”
Peter’s chest tightened. The audible gasp from Lachlann mirrored his own disappointment. But Lachlann was young. Peter should know better.
“And where have you come from?” Peter focused on the task at hand. He needed to ascertain if this was really something he needed to become involved in.
“From across the sea,” Brighit answered, then turned to face him. Her eyes rounded. “From Ireland.”
The tenseness of the woman’s body reached out to him. He didn’t trust Ivan’s intentions. He sensed the woman was in danger.
Peter confronted Ivan. “Do you have any thought on how to get there? Do you not know where you’re headed?”
The little man’s eyes narrowed. Peter’s insult hit the mark. “I know where I’m going.”
Brighit took a quick step away from Ivan.
Peter didn’t acknowledge her this time.
“I fear you have been misled,” Peter said.
Peter moved to the center of the group. “Mayhap I should introduce myself.” He glanced around the little group of troublemakers. The Scots and the Protectors. The Normans could use more loyal soldiers in the area. Could these men follow orders? He needed to remain open to the possibility. “I am Peter of Normandy and come here at the behest of the King.”
Their uneasy glances assured him they were now thinking better of the problems they were making for themselves by calling attention to themselves.
Niall spoke first. “Where is the King now?”
Peter translated the question to “How much time do we have to get away?”
