Page 97 of Edge of Yesterday

“Mayhap this is a sign from God that ye are supposed to find this relative,” Julianna suggested.

“God works in mysterious ways,” the priest said, but Cailean would have bet a month’s wages that God had nothing to do with this situation.

The devil?

Aye, he would wager a month’s wages on the devil.

~*~

Julianna gazed out the window of the cell Father Andrew had given her for the night. Crisp spring air chilled her face and she breathed deep. The window overlooked the expansive gardens in the center of the abbey grounds. She hadn’t visited in over two years and had forgotten how beautiful the monastery was. The priests had expanded the apple orchard and she was sure she saw more pear trees than had been here the last time she’d visited. This early in the year, the raised beds were largely filled with rich, black soil, few seedlings having broken the earth. But the little enclaves here and there with arbors and benches, fishponds and fountains… It was all so serene.

She felt fortunate that Lennox decided against returning home tonight. The bracken-stuffed beds in the cells weren’t as comfortable as her bracken and feather stuffed bed at home, but she found pleasure in being alone with her thoughts. Where had Father Andrew put Cailean? Unlike most of the priests at Reay Abbey, he had been a real man before he became a priest. She suspected he understood the sins of the flesh better than most. Something told her he also wouldn’t call such urges sinful, leastways not when speaking in private. He would understand why her thoughts kept veering back to Cailean.

She remembered their dinner and the way he had looked at her. If Father Andrew had noticed, he would house them as far apart as possible. She laughed. He might well have sensed her attraction to Cailean. He was beautiful to look upon and she couldn’t deny a strong desire to find out what all that muscled flesh felt like beneath her fingers. She flushed warm at the memory of her body pressed against his when they’d walked out of Strone Hall. Walked. Sweet Jesu, but it took bollocks to attempt such a daring escape. The man had guts. He was the best swordsman she’d ever seen, even better than Lennox, which she hadn’t thought possible.

She recalled Cailean’s expression when he’d told her to stay hidden in the trees. Tenderness rippled through her. He’d been concerned—not as Sir Lawren, who believed heart and soul in the superiority of men over women, but as a man who…the tenderness tightened into longing. He was a man who cared. She released a sigh and leaned her arms on the window ledge. She’d met Cailean but a few days ago and yet felt as if she’d known him her entire life. He was unlike any man she’d ever known, which fiercely piqued her curiosity.

A large figure came into view across the garden. A man walked in the shadows, alongside the wall. Julianna straightened. She would know that figure anywhere. Why was Cailean skulking about the gardens? And skulking he was, for he hugged the wall in a clear attempt to stay in the shadows. She watched until he reached the stone path to his right. There, he turned and passed beneath a short stone bridge that connected a low tower with a small chapel.

Where was he going?

Julianna whirled and grabbed her cloak from the foot of the bed, then crossed to the door. She eased the door open and looked left, then right down the dimly-lit hallway. Empty. She hurried down the passage to the door that opened onto the garden. A moment later, she entered that broad open space and ran to the pebbled path Cailean had taken. Once past the overhead bridge, Julianna paused at a T in the path. Left lead to the infirmary; the right-handed fork went to the scriptorium.

Would he go there?

She turned right and hurried along the moonlit path to the arcade that stretched along the monastery’s most treasured building. She paused at the door, heart racing. Father Symon often worked late into the night copying scrolls or writing. He was sixty-nine years old, a master at illuminating texts. But his work was tedious and time consuming. If he grew tired, he slept on the bed that had been installed for him. What would he think of her chasing Cailean into the scriptorium? She drew a deep breath and inched open the door.

Silence greeted her, along with the heady scent of old stone, ink, and parchment. She detected a hint of cold damp air and dust, the familiar smell of fish oil from the hanging crusie lamps, melted candle wax and a haze of peat smoke. All elixirs of ancient, learned men—and an intoxication to her.

Cailean stood at the far end of the room, facing alcoves filled with books and scrolls. He held a book, but his attention seemed fixed on the tapestry hanging on the wall to his left, a colorful woodland scene filled with animals and crows that perched amongst the trees. He turned his attention to the books and pulled one from a shelf. Julianna stopped, transfixed as she watched him reverently run a finger over the cover. Aside from priests, she had never met a man who cared much for the written word. Except for her father, who had taught her and Lennox that shared thoughts enlightened a man—and a woman. She found herself oddly glad that Cailean was such a man.

He turned, then stopped, his gaze locking with hers. “One of these days you’re going to get yourself into real trouble, my lady.”

She kept her gaze locked with his. “Is this one of those times?”

“It could be. What are ye doing here?”

Julianna took two backward steps, closed the door, then crossed the room. “I saw you from my window and…” She shrugged.

“That curiosity again, eh?” he asked without rancor.

She nodded. “What are ye looking for?”

“I’ve never seen a scriptorium. I was curious.”

“A man who is simply curious to read books doesnae wear a sword.” She nodded to his weapon, strapped low on his hip.

“Since meeting you and your brother, I have learned to be…cautious.”

She angled her head. “Just since meeting us?”

He laughed. “Let’s say I have grown more cautious.”

“You are honest—I like that.” She stepped closer and looked at the book he held. “Have ye found anything interesting?”

“I just got here—as ye saw—so I don’t know yet.”

“Let us find out.” She took the book from him, went to the nearest table and set the book down. She unclasped her cloak and tossed it onto a nearby table, then looked at Cailean, who still stood at the shelves. “Can you bring two more books?”