Page 12 of Mardon

“The convent?” She looked at Nairnie in question, almost forgetting she was posing as a nun. She’d been so intrigued watching Mardon from across the room that she was having a hard time focusing on their conversation. “Oh, yes. The convent.”

“Where is it?”

“Where is what?” She picked up her tankard and chugged some more ale.

“The convent. Yer home. The place where ye pray and worship God.”

“Oh, that. It’s . . . not far from here.” Emmaline put down the tankard and nervously picked up the spoon again, trying to find something to do other than to look at the old woman. Nairnie was sure to see it in her eyes that she was lying. She scooped out some pottage.

Nairnie leaned over and looked her right in the eyes now. Emmaline was bent over blowing on the food and stopped in midmotion. “Why are you staring at me?” she mumbled.

“I’m waitin’ for ye to tell me the truth . . . Sister.”

“I did.”

“Mmm hmm. If ye’re a nun then I’m the Queen of England,” spat the old woman.

Emmaline tapped the food from the spoon back into the bowl and precisely put the spoon down on the table. Then she picked up the tankard again, clutching it in her hands. “I have no idea what you mean.” She tried to sound convincing.

“Ye’re no’ a nun, so drop the act . . . Sister,” Nairnie ground out. “Dinna try to pull the wool over my auld eyes because I can see right through ye. Now, tell me who ye really are, and dinna make up another lie.”

“I told you. I’m Sister Emmaline.”

“Nay, ye’re no’. Ye’re a lady if I’ve ever seen one.”

Her eyes snapped up and she could barely breathe. “A l-lady? Why would you say that?” She faked a smile.

“Because I have spent a lot of time with ladies, and I ken how they act.”

“You? The grandmother of pirates? You’ve spent time around ladies?” She chuckled, thinking the woman was making this up.

“I most certainly have. Their names are Ladies Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter, and they are the sisters of the Legendary Bastards of the Crown.”

The tankard slipped from her grip and hit the table, spilling ale. Everyone knew about the Legendary Bastards of the Crown. They once worked together posing as the Demon Thief, stealing from the king who was their own father. One of them was even a pirate if she remembered correctly. Nairnie surely got around!

Emmaline quickly righted the tankard, using her hand cloth to wipe up the liquid. Nairnie’s words shook her up so much that she didn’t know how to answer. Finally, she spoke. “Well, I’m not a lady,” she tried to convince the old woman, needing to keep her secret for now.

“Nay? Then ye’re a whore pretendin’ to be a holy woman,” said Nairnie, making Emmaline even more upset. Nairnie started to squint one eye and glare at her the way she’d looked at the serving wench.

“I most certainly am not a whore and I demand you stop calling me one!” She banged her hand down on the table, just like Nairnie had done earlier. Emmaline was getting very angry. She didn’t want anyone ever referring to her as a whore again. It was bad enough that all her late husband’s friends thought she was a loose woman because of that damned painting!

“Ah, so ye’re a noble after all, I see. I was right the first time,” said Nairnie, nodding her head. “Only a noblewoman would demand anythin’ from the grandmathair of a pirate.”

“Nay! You’re wrong.”

“I saw the way ye nibbled at yer food and dabbed yer mouth with a hand cloth. I also saw the lust in yer eyes when ye looked at my grandson, Mardon. No nun would ever act that way, lass.”

It was evident that Nairnie wasn’t going to stop until she got the answer she wanted. Her behavior was already starting to cause a scene. Several men glanced over in their direction. Emmaline didn’t want the attention. She needed to stay hidden in the shadows. This woman was going to ruin everything for her. She had to say something to satisfy her, or Nairnie was going to blow her cover.

“All right,” she finally said in a soft voice. “I’ll tell you, but you have to swear not to tell a soul.” Emmaline needed a way to get on to the pirates’ ship so mayhap this would work in her favor. She couldn’t take the chance of the painting resurfacing. Not when she was trying to clear her name. Most of the men who had seen the painting were all back in France. Hopefully, not many in England had taken a look at it yet. It was imperative she find it and bring it to King Edward immediately.

Before sending her to the convent, Emmaline’s father told her there was only one way to clear her name and marry again. He was friends with the king. If Emmaline could prove the painting was not going to resurface, he said he was sure King Edward would find a nobleman to marry her here in England. With the painting as proof, the king would then destroy it and, hopefully, restore her reputation. Now that she had escaped the convent that her stepmother fought to send her to, this was her only chance. Nairnie might just be the answer to her prayers after all. It was a chance she was going to have to take.

Nairnie studied her as she spoke. “I might keep yer secret. That is, if I feel it deserves keepin’.”

Releasing a deep breath, Emmaline told her the truth before she could talk herself out of doing it. “I am Lady Emmaline de la Croix from France.”

“Hah! I was right, ye are a noble,” Nairnie said a little too loudly, once again slamming her hand down on the table. Her face lit up with a smile.