Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Varrick pounded on the door repeatedly as soon as he reached it. Argus remained behind him, two of his warriors waited on either side of him.
The door creaked open once again.
“You will let us all in or I will seize this place for my own,” Varrick warned.
“We are under Lord David of Clan MacSymon, protection,” the monk said. “And you and your warriors are more than welcome here—the witch is not.”
“I do not care if you are under the king’s protection, my wife enters with me, or you suffer the consequences,” Varrick threatened.
The monk went to push the door closed and Varrick gave it a vicious shove, sending the monk tumbling back to land in a heap on the floor. Varrick entered, stepping over him.
Argus followed him in along with the two warriors.
“Secure this place while I get my wife and see that the horses are sheltered,” Varrick ordered.
“What goes on here?” came a commanding shout.
Varrick turned to see a slim man of fair height hurry toward him.
The man who had refused them entrance was on his feet and spoke up. “Lord Varrick demands shelter for his warriors and the witch who harmed one of ours.”
“Do you think a witch has more power than the good Lord, Brother Luke?” the man chastised.
“Nay, Abbott John, never would I think that,” the monk said, his head bent apologetically.
“The Lord sends us those in need and perhaps he sends the witch to us to help her see the evil of her ways,” Abbott John said. “We will grant lodgings to the witch and these good men, and we will pray for them all.”
“Aye, Abbott John, I will see the refectory made ready,” Brother Luke said, though did not hide his disdain with the abbott’s decision, his face pinched tight as he went to walk away.
“You will see that these good people get food and drink first, then you will ready it for Lord Varrick’s men to sleep. And you will also see a private room made ready for Lord Varrick and his wife,” Abbott John ordered.
Brother Luke stared at him a moment, then bobbed his headed and hurried away.
“You and yours are welcome here, Lord Varrick,” Abbott John said as he approached Varrick slowly, his hands tucked into the large sleeves of his robe, leaving his crossed arms to rest against his chest.
“A wise decision, Abbott John,” Varrick said.
“We are here to serve, my son, though I do ask you to grant me a favor.”
“It depends on the favor?”
“I would appreciate a chance to speak with your wife, with you present of course,” Abbott John said. “Perhaps I can make her see the evil of her ways and help her to make you a good wife.”
“I wed her because of her evil ways, Abbott John,” Varrick said.
The Abbott, startled by his response, said, “Then perhaps it is you I should speak to.”
“A waste of time, Abbott, I lost my soul many years ago.” Varrick turned away from the Abbott but heard him mumble a prayer as he walked away.
Varrick favored the sting of the cold that hit his face when he stepped outside. He was a man of no faith and little trust, so Abbott or not, he would keep a keen eye on the man.
He went to his wife, reached up, his hands going to her waist that had an inviting curve to it and the unexpected thought disturbed him. He was not interested in coupling with her, so why the thought? He chased the unwanted thought away annoyed for having had it.
He lifted her off the horse, his hands leaving her as soon as her feet touched the ground. “You will not leave my side the whole time we are here. Do you understand?”
“Aye, my lord,” she said, fearful that she understood him all too well, though wondered why his hands had lingered at her waist. Had something troubled him and caught him in thought?
Varrick placed his hand on her back and guided her to the door and inside.
Fia’s steps halted upon seeing the snarling faces of the few monks gathered there. They appeared more like demons than holy men. She moved closer to her husband as a tall monk approached her, and she was relieved when Varrick slipped his arm around her.
“All are welcome in the Lord’s house, my child,” Abbott John said. “I look forward to talking with you. But first food and a hot brew to warm you.”
When Varrick’s arm slipped away from her waist, she hurried to reach for his hand and was pleased to realize he was already reaching for hers. His strong grip did not feel like a shackle, it felt more like a shield that he would let no one penetrate, and the sensation surprised her.
They were escorted to the refectory where the monks took their meals. It was a large room that had two long tables with benches running down the middle of it. Food and drink waited on both tables and her husband directed her to the table that sat closest to the hearth.