The Mark of Salvation (29 page)

ORELIA SAGGED AGAINST CEALLACH, relief, guilt, and finally sadness assailing her at Ceallach's pronouncement. “Dead? How did she die?”

“Fell down the stairs after she lit the fire.”

The smoke Orelia had seen coming from the tower. “She set the tower room on fire?”

“Aye. Everyone thought you were in there—you, your maid, and your child.”

Orelia thanked God for George's warning and for the premonition that had sent Orelia out of the tower tonight. If she had hesitated . . . Orelia began to shake at the realization of how close she and Iain and Mary had come to a horrible death.

Ceallach drew her close. “There now, it's all right. She is gone. You can return to Radbourne.”

She pulled away and eyed him, trying to gauge whether he wanted her to go back or not. “I could. George thinks I'm dead as well?”

“Aye, though he may doubt it when they don't find any bones in that room.”

Should she go back and claim what was theirs? She'd already made this decision once today. Had anything changed? Radbourne held nothing for her anymore.

She looked at Ceallach and for the first time noticed he was wearing John's necklace. Orelia reached up and touched it. “I thought I lost it.”

He made as if to take it off. “Lady Alice had it in her hand when we found her.”

She stayed his hand. “You keep it.”

Ceallach said, “Are you sure?”

Orelia nodded. “Alice had it?” How strange. What had Alice wanted with it? Then Orelia remembered that when she'd thought the necklace was lost, she saw it as an omen that God was about to change her life. That change stood here in front of her. Ceallach, who had professed his love in the letter she wasn't to open unless she needed him.

Well, she needed him, needed to leave Radbourne behind and seek her future elsewhere. Iain's too. The past was dead, gone up in the flames of the tower room. But . . .

“What would I face at Radbourne?”

“George of Wellsey seems like a honest man.”

“True. But his loyalty would always be divided between his blood kin—Alice's children—and my son.”

“But your son's inheritance—”

She reached up and fingered the cross hanging on Ceallach's chest. “This is Iain's inheritance. His father's faith is something Iain will be able to rely on all his life. Far more dependable than worldly goods.”

“Then you will come with us?”

“With you, yes.”

He took a deep breath and let it go. “I can't make you any promises, Orelia. I am still bound by my Templar vows.”

What would she do if he would not or could not marry her? Was she further jeopardizing her son by following this man into an uncertain future? She glanced at John's necklace—at the cross—and thought of its promise. She would trust in God, for the believing heart was filled with surrender and trust.

“I'm not asking for promises, Ceallach. May I stay at Dunstruan with you until you find your answers?”

He enfolded her in an embrace.

Yes, she could come to love this man. From the ashes of her grief for John, God had given her a second chance for love. She was at ease with her decision to stay with Ceallach. She peered up at him, at his beloved face. “Is that a yes?”

His smile was tender. “Aye, lassie, that's a yes.”

“Mount up!” Bruce ordered, pointing toward the road as a troop of horsemen cantered over the bridge toward Bolton.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The patrol George of Wellsey had warned me about. Where is your child?”

Morrigan said, “Already mounted in front of Fergus. Ceallach, mount up and I'll help Orelia to mount behind you.”

“But what about my maid?”

One of the men pulled Mary up behind him.

Morrigan gave Orelia a quick hug before helping her to mount. There was no time for a happy reunion. Once settled behind Ceallach, Orelia checked on Fergus to see how he would ride and hold fast to Iain. With relief she observed Fergus wrap his plaid around the child and tie the material snugly, binding Iain in a kind of sling.

She clung to Ceallach as he wheeled his horse and followed Bruce. Stealthily they made their way through the woods before exiting the cover of the trees. Within minutes they were on the road and racing north. Hopefully, Edward's soldiers would spend sufficient time searching the abbey to give them a good head start.

SEVENTEEN

Brothers may not be alone in the company of any woman of any age, nor shall they embrace or kiss even their ownmother or sister."Brothers will refrain from boasting of past prowess or brave deeds."

—from the Rule of the Templar Knights

S
o
S
many times in my life I failed God with my efforts. I failed to
fight in a Crusade, to use my ability as a warrior for his glory. I
thought my pride and the strength of my will would save me. But
pride and human strength are no match for evil. I blamed God,
blamed him for abandoning me when I needed him. Because of
my failure, I abandoned my faith, turned my back on God.

So why would God bless a sinner such as me? And yet he
has done that very thing that all reason says he should not.

When I joined Bruce on this raid into England, I hoped to
hear news of Orelia, perhaps even to see her once more. Never
did I dare to hope Orelia would return to Dunstruan. That
indeed would be the answer to a prayer.

So I am left with this God who blesses even the worst of
sinners with his love and his promise of hope for the future.
Dare I hope he will show me how to make Orelia my wife
despite my Templar vows?

ORELIA'S ARMS ACHED from holding fast to Ceallach's shirt, and her thighs chafed from bumping against the saddle. They'd been riding nearly an hour when Bruce called a halt to let their sentry catch up. Ceallach reined his horse to follow Bruce off the road and into the shelter of the woods. Everyone dismounted, stretching their legs and giving the horses a rest.

Orelia gave Iain some oatcakes and water that Fergus supplied, afraid all the while that the patrol was close behind. As she fed Iain, she listened to the men's discussion.

“Report,” Bruce rapped out when Fergus brought the sentry to their resting place.

“The English soldiers are following hard behind us.”

Bruce stroked his chin. “The abbot no doubt told them of our visit, so the English know who their quarry is.”

“The horses can't keep up this pace.” Ceallach sounded grim.

Orelia studied the men in the moonlight. All looked solemn but confident. They'd followed Bruce many times and were probably used to such events. Their confidence bolstered Orelia's flagging morale.

Bruce outlined his plan. “You're right, Ceallach, the horses can't run all the way to Scotland. Especially the two with a double load. We've another full day's ride to the border.” The king motioned to Fergus and Morrigan. “Sooner or later we must stand and fight. But we shall choose the time and place. We must split our forces. I'll take half the men and continue on the road.”

Fergus nodded. “The moon will set soon—our pursuers aren't likely to notice there are fewer tracks. And if they do notice, they'll waste time trying to figure out where the rest of us went.”

“Aye. You and your men wait here under cover of the trees. A few miles farther north the road goes through a narrow pass—do you remember?”

Fergus answered, “Aye. Steep rock on either side.”

“Exactly. My men and I will be waiting for the English on the other side. You come from behind, trap them in the pass and we'll give them a good fight.” He turned to Ceallach and Morrigan. “Take the lady and her son and a half dozen men and head across country. Meet us at the old ruin outside of Brough.”

Orelia hid a smile as Fergus went to Morrigan and kissed her cheek before mounting his horse. How did Morrigan feel about not being part of the fighting force? She seemed to accept her king's orders to ride with Ceallach; perhaps it soothed her pride to be part of the guarding force for Orelia and her child. Iain squalled in frustration as he was quickly tied to Morrigan's chest, but Morrigan calmed him with a promise of more oatcakes for breakfast.

Orelia laid a hand on her friend's arm. “Are you sure he's not too heavy?”

“We'll be fine, Orelia. I promise.”

Orelia nodded as she and Ceallach mounted up. They headed northwest, the shortest distance to the border. Ceallach kept them at a steady walk, allowing the horses to pick their way alongside the creek they followed.

Exhausted from the emotional and physical toll of the day's events, Orelia rested her head against Ceallach's back. He smelled of smoke and burned wool. He hadn't spoken of the events at Radbourne and she wondered what had transpired. And if he would tell her.

Just before dawn, Ceallach called a halt and Morrigan found a campsite not far from the stream. Ceallach threw his leg over the horse's neck and slid down, then helped Orelia dismount. He took Iain from Morrigan and brought the sleeping boy to Orelia.

Ceallach motioned to her. “We'll rest here for a few hours, then go on to meet the others.”

Glad to get off the horse and seeing that Mary had already made a fast run into the bushes she said, “Could you watch Iain for a few minutes?”

His eyebrows lifted in understanding. “Aye, of course.”

How good it felt to walk after the hours on horseback. She finished quickly, returning to sit by Iain. She watched as Ceallach, Morrigan, and the men unsaddled their mounts, led them to the stream for a drink, and then hobbled them so they could forage without running off.

Only after the horses were cared for did they see to their own needs, disappearing into the brush for privacy. Ceallach came back with his hands full of pine boughs. “These will do for a bed,” he said as he spread the fragrant branches on the ground beside her and Mary.

“Thank you,” Mary said. “I'm so tired I'd have slept right on the ground. This will be much better.” She took a few of the branches and spread them out a short distance away.

Ceallach motioned to Iain. “Would you like to lay him down?”

Only then did Orelia realize the poor man knew nothing about her son. Smiling she said, “His name is Iain.”

“Aye. After your husband.”

“But in Gaelic, to remember you.”

He stared at her, took a deep breath as if she'd shocked him. “To remember me?”

“Yes. You and Dunstruan.”

He looked down at her with the same intensity as he had that night he'd told her about Peter. Then she'd only seen, only wanted to see, deep affection. Was it wishful thinking to believe that now she saw more?

Ceallach took off his gloves and went to his saddlebag. He brought a piece of brecan cloth to her. “You and the boy can wrap up in this.”

She stared at the cloth, then fingered it, running her hand across the pattern. “You finished the cloth we designed.”

“Aye. Didn't think I'd ever have the chance to give this to you, though.”

In the gathering light of daybreak she noticed his fire-singed clothing. No wonder he smelled of smoke! Quickly but gently she laid Iain on the makeshift bed and stood up and covered him.

“Aren't you going to rest?” Ceallach asked.

“Not until I see how badly you are hurt.”

“ 'Tis nothing.”

Annoyed with his stubbornness, she said, “I'll be the judge of that.” She took hold of his hands—the gentle hands she had watched throw a shuttle back and forth on the loom. Turning them over she saw they were blistered and red.

“Are you satisfied?” he asked lightly.

“No. How did this happen?”

“Why must you fuss—” The rest came out on a hiss of pain as Orelia let go of his hands and pulled apart the laces on his sark.

The burned edges of the shirt allowed her to see more crimson skin. “Take your shirt off so I may see the damage.”When he'd done so she sucked in her breath. The burn was mild compared to what he'd suffered on his back—just redness like a burn from the sun. But the skin was not harmed underneath John's cross. It's imprint stood in white contrast to the reddened area.

Ceallach had braved fire for her! Her eyes filled with tears and she took the excess of his plaid and dried them. Idly she wondered if he'd light a fire for himself now. She smiled at the thought and hoped . . . no, best not let her thinking get too far ahead of her circumstances.

But surely God meant for them to be together. Hadn't he marked Ceallach with the cross she thought she'd lost? Yes, she would claim Ceallach and his pride and his steadfast heart as her own. Whether he would return her claim remained to be seen. Love would not be easy for either of them, but she trusted God to help them over the obstacles.

She walked to Morrigan and asked if the woman had any healing supplies. When Orelia returned to Ceallach her face must have revealed that she had a good mind to chastise him for not having his injury cared for before leaving Radbourne.

Ceallach shook his head. “Save the lecture, Orelia. Until now, I honestly haven't felt it.”

“We have no salve or anything else to treat it with, Ceallach. Come to the stream. Maybe just soaking some cloth in cold water will help.” She turned her back and tore a piece of material from her chemise.

WHILE MARY AND IAIN SLEPT, Ceallach and Orelia walked to the stream. Ceallach did as she ordered, leaning against a rock near the water's edge. He relaxed, enjoying the whisper soft touch of her fingers as she tended to his injuries. The cool cloth did alleviate the sting that he was now very much aware of. “I suspect this will be my last visit to England.”

She wrung out the cloth and laid it on his chest again. “And mine.”

Surprised, he said, “You won't return eventually to claim Iain's inheritance?”