“Well. I don’t recall, except to say your mother was protected within that Priory until she was wed to your father in their chapel.”
Tadhg turned a bright smile toward Brighit. “Ah, the last thing she would have imagined happening within the walls of such a place.”
“That’s true enough.” Ronan said.
Tadhg glanced around, suddenly concerned. “Will there just be the two of you then, Uncle? Do you believe that will be enough?”
“No, we are meeting up with other men who will ferry us across and guide us to the Priory. There will be enough protection for Christ’s future bride, to be sure. We will see her safely off, won’t we, Ivan?”
The little man puffed up with the importance of the job. “We will, my lord. We know how to care for lovely women in our charge.”
Brighit shivered at the double meaning.
“See?” Tadhg took both her hands. “You will be well cared for. Uncle Ronan has his men waiting for you at the coast. I wish I could come with you.”
“How is father?”
“He is holding on. It will not be long now.”
“Mayhap this trip should wait until later? When you can join us?”
“Father is afraid of what the O’Brien will do. If he compromises you—”
Brighit gasped. “He would never dare!”
“Your virtue is his only concern. I am sorry.” He kissed each cheek, a sad smile on his face. “I will miss you, sweetling.”
As if suddenly overwhelmed, he crushed her to him.
She swallowed hard against her tears. “I can stay at your word, my lord.” She whispered in his ear. She longed to beg him to not make her go, to tell him her deepest fear, to convince him to let her stay.
Instead she stepped away. Her lips frozen into a tight smile. “But father’s wishes will be seen to.”
She tugged her wrap closer around her. The stable boy placed the step-up box beside the carriage. He gave her his arm to help her into the wood-sided conveyance. If she even breathed, she knew she would cry. She was a MacNaughton. She needed to be strong. She would get through this as she had gotten through everything else. She held her head high as she sat, unyielding, on the cushioned bench.
“Fare thee well.”
Brighit found Ivan sitting in the far corner. His face averted. A study in propriety.
She turned toward her brother, now standing beside the carriage. “You will be foremost in my prayers.”Besides my own safety.
The stable boy hopped onto the high seat. Immediately the carriage shifted and they were under way.
“God be with you,” Tadhg called out.
Uncle Ronan raised his hand in acknowledgement from his seat beside Ivan, his knees occasionally touching hers. The curtains that would cover the square openings in each door were secured to allow air flow. Brighit wanted to yank them down, cutting off the outside, and enshroud herself in this moving casket that led to her grave. Instead, she remained seated and politely faced forward.
Her uncle’s glances became less frequent by mid-morning, indicating he was lost in his own thoughts and paying her no heed. Ivan, on the other hand, kept a steady eye on her, or should she say her breasts, especially when the horse was led along the bumpy road which ran alongside the ocean. She tried crossing her arms about her until she realized his face brightened at that, pulling her gown tight against her as it did.
Brighit shook her head and looked out the window. She reassured herself yet again that she was fully clothed. Ivan could not see anything he should not be able to see. The man was just depraved. She prayed there would be no opportunity for this man to be alone with her. By dusk, her uncle had taken to his horse to escape the tight confines of the carriage. He rode ahead, leading it rather than protecting her.
“How fare ye, niece?” His loud voice boomed, startling her from her thoughts.
“Well enough.”
“Perhaps some food and company? There is an inn down the road where we will stop to rest. Ivan?”
“Yes, my lord.” His leering smile stayed on Brighit.
