Page 112 of A Touch So Wicked

Two hours later, the documents tucked away in his pocket, Damian rode north from London through the pounding rain.

Elissa had been at the convent nearly a fortnight before she figured out a way to leave without the Reverend Mother’s knowledge. Elissa didn’t blame the Reverend Mother for adhering to the king’s wishes where she was concerned, for the convent owed its very existence to the Hanover.

It didn’t take Elissa long to learn that an old man named Freddie was the only male allowed inside the convent walls, though he never ventured inside the convent itself. If Freddie had a last name, no one seemed to know it. He slept above the stables, maintained the grounds, and drove the wagon to a nearby farm once a week for fresh milk and eggs. The gatekeeper, Sister Elizabeth, opened the gate for him early each Monday morning, and Elissa used that knowledge to plan her escape.

On the following Monday, Elissa awakened early, donned her warmest clothes, and slipped away to the stables before morning Mass. She hid behind a bale of hay until Freddie arrived to hitch the horse to the wagon for his trip to town. She watched with bated breath as he went into the tack room for the harness. Once he was inside, she slammed the door shut and flung home the bolt.

“Sorry, Freddie,” she called through the door. “I need the wagon more than you do.”

“Is that you, Lady Elissa?” Freddie asked in a muffled voice.

“Aye, Freddie,” Elissa said, reaching for Freddie’s cloak and hat hanging on a nearby hook. “Tell the Mother Superior I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t you tell the Mother Superior yourself?” The feminine voice came from behind her and Elissa whirled, dismayed to find the Mother Superior standing behind her.

“Mother Superior! How did you know?”

“I didn’t. I saw you leave the building and decided to follow. I suspected you’d attempt something like this one day.” Her face softened. “Don’t let me stop you.”

Elissa went very still. “I donna understand.”

“I don’t suppose you do. England’s king is not God. He may threaten, but in the end ’tis God’s word we follow. I have prayed over your situation and searched my heart for an answer. You are not meant to take the veil.” She peered closely at Elissa, her kindly eyes dropping to Elissa’s stomach. “Is there something you wish to tell me, child?”

Elissa blanched. “How did you know that I’m carrying a bairn?”

“I merely suspected but was not sure. I also suspect God has something special in mind for you. Go with my blessing, my child. You need not fear the English monarch, for he will never be told that you no longer reside with us.”

“How can I ever thank you?”

“By raising your child to love God,” Mother Superior replied. “Now, quickly, pull on Freddie’s cloak and hat and hunch your shoulders when you ride through the gate. I promise your absence will never be mentioned nor discussed by anyone dwelling within these walls.”

Unable to believe her good fortune, Elissa quickly finished hitching the horse to the wagon, donned her disguise, and climbed onto the driver’s bench. “I’ll make sure the wagon is returned as soon as possible. I know how much you depend on it.”

“Thank you,” the Mother Superior said. “Go now, child, Sister Elizabeth is waiting to open the gate. May God protect you.”

Elissa slapped the reins against the horse’s rump and the animal plodded off. Once out of sight of the convent, she set a course for Misterly.

Darkness had descended when Elissa spied Misterly through a snowy mist that swirled down from a cloud-laden sky. Shivering, she pulled Freddie’s woolen cloak closer about her, anxious now to see her mother and sister and bask before a warm fire while dining on Winifred’s fine cooking.

Squinting through a curtain of snowflakes, Elissa made out the figures of the night patrol high up on the parapet and breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing appeared amiss. She thought it unlikely that anyone at Misterly had received word of Damian’s marriage to Kimbra or her own banishment to the convent and she intended for everyone to know of the sacrifice Damian had made on her behalf. Then she would take her mother and sister to Glenmoor before Damian returned with his bride.

Elissa halted the wagon before the gate, waiting for someone to come out of the gatehouse to identify her. As she peered through the iron bars, a frisson of alarm crawled up her spine. Instinct warned her that something was wrong, but she had no idea what it could be.

She was enormously relieved when someone hailed her from the keep. Sir Richard? She waved her hand in response and waited for him to open the gate.

“Elissa?” a gruff voice asked. “Where did you come from?”

Did she detect a Scottish burr? Aye, that voice definitely wasn’t Sir Richard’s. To her knowledge, none of the men Damian had left behind were Scotsmen. And it didn’t sound like one of her kinsmen. Flee, her inner voice warned. Unfortunately, she couldn’t turn the horse and wagon fast enough. When she heard the gate being cranked open, she panicked and scrambled down from the wagon to flee on foot. Three men seized her before she’d taken her first step. She recognized Tavis Gordon immediately.

“Tavis! What are you doing here? Where are Sir Richard and the others? What have you done with Mama and Lora?”

“Bring her inside,” Tavis ordered, ignoring her questions.

Elissa offered no resistance as she was hustled inside the keep, anxious to learn the fate of her family and the men Damian had left behind.

The great hall teemed with Gordons, and Elissa feared the worst when she noted the absence of Damian’s men. She brightened considerably when she saw Maggie racing toward her.

“Sweet Mother, you’ve returned,” Maggie cried, hugging Elissa fiercely.