Page 96 of Edge of Yesterday

“Aye. And you…” He studied Cailean. “I understand you are good with a blade.”

Cailean shrugged. “I grew up with a sword in hand.”

“Who did ye apprentice with?”

“No one in particular,” Cailean said, and cursed when Julianna rejoined them.

She slipped into her chair, her gaze locked on him, her eyes sharp. Had she been listening from across the room? She’d told him her ears were good, but were they that good?

“I am surprised I never heard of ye.” Father Andrew rubbed his chin. “Ye dinnae compete in the tourneys?”

Cailean drank his ale and shook his head. “No interest.”

Julianna’s gaze sharpened on him. Bloody hell, he’d told her he was in Heatheredge for the games.

Father Andrew took another gulp of wine, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I am not proud of the life I lived, but I dinnae regret it. Like all men, I had to eat, and a good sword arm can always find a home.” He leaned into the corner of his chair. Candlelight glinted off something in the folds of his robe. One of the necklaces he wore, Cailean realized. His gaze snagged on the charm and he froze in reaching for his goblet.

Was the charm the same talon that Val Ross wore? Not just Val, but Bains—and Rathais.

Cailean picked up his mug, then plunked it back down when he saw his hand tremble. What the bloody hell did this mean? He opened his mouth to ask Andrew about the talon, then thought better of it. Until he knew what he was dealing with, it was best no one suspect he was anything but a passing visitor to Heatheredge.

“Are ye all right, lad?”

Cailean realized the priest was talking to him. “Aye, I was just wondering about the men who employed ye.”

He shrugged. “Ah, well, they were men like any other, various lords and knights. No one of note.” He flicked a bread crumb from the table. “Why do ye ask? Do ye want to sell your sword?”

“Nae.” Cailean shook his head. “I only wondered if ye had worked for a Lord Rathais.”

The priest and Julianna stared at him.

His heart began to beat faster. “What have I said wrong?”

Julianna touched his arm. “Cailean, Rathais is Father Andrew’s surname.”

Shock sped through him. He should have known.

Cailean laughed. “Ye cannae be the same Rathais I speak of.”

“I know of no other Rathais but my family.” The big man frowned. “You can only mean us.”

His voice was genial, but Cailean detected the suspicion Father Andrew was clearly trying to mask. None of this matters, he reminded himself. He would be home in a day or two. Unless someone killed him before then.

“Perhaps it was your father I heard about?”

“My father is a farmer.” The monk was still frowning. “Who told ye of this Lord Rathais, and what did he say?”

“A friend, Robert Mackay.” There had to be a thousand Robert Mackays. “I heard Lord Rathais was a fair man. But he is in the Lowlands. Is it possible ye have kin there?”

“Did ye fight in the Lowlands, Father?” Julianna sat forward. “The Borders are always astir.”

“The Borders?” The priest looked at her as if only just realizing she had returned. Cailean wanted to kiss her. She’d discerned his discomfiture and caught Father Andrew off guard by jumping into the conversation.

Father Andrew’s face cleared and he smiled at her. “Nae, lass. I have never been past Edinburgh.” His eyes shifted to Cailean. “Still, ‘tis a mighty queer that the man ye heard of was a man with my family name.”

Cailean nodded. “It is,” he said, and meant it.

“I shall have to find out who the man is.” Father Andrew grinned again but, this time, the levity didn’t reach his eyes. “If I have a wealthy relative, he might want to donate a few coins to a priest who shares his blood.”