Page 57
“’Tis unseemly to travel with an unmarried maid.” Despite his words, the bishop did not sound judgmental. It was a statement of fact, and one they all knew to be true.
“Who are you?” he asked her.
Cait’s pulse raced, but when Conrad nodded, she relaxed. The thought of directly lying to a man of God . . .
“I am Cait Kennaugh, sister to the chief of Clan Kennaugh and Earl of Dromsley.”
If he was surprised, the bishop did not show it.
“How did you come to be with these men on such a dangerous mission?”
Again, Conrad nodded.
Her face beginning to flush, Cait searched for words that would not incriminate her. Failing to find any explanation save the truth, she said, “I’ve known the earl for many years through Terric. When he set out for London, I followed him. To convince him that we should marry.”
Even that did not manage to shock the bishop.
“I could perform such a ceremony here. This morn.”
“Aye!”
“Nay.”
She and Conrad spoke at once. His objection, however, was even more adamant than her assent. Both she and the bishop turned toward him.
“We have no time, as well you know. Rest assured, Cait Kennaugh will become my wife, but not without her brother’s permission. But I thank you for praying for both of our souls and for the assistance you’ve given our cause.” His voice firm, Conrad left no opening for either her or the bishop to argue.
Perhaps he really did not wish to marry her. He claimed he’d forgiven her, but Conrad’s actions indicated otherwise. As he shook hands with the bishop, who gave her a polite nod in parting, Conrad had an expression she’d seen on Terric’s face all too often.
His decision had been made, and he would not be swayed.
She mounted with Conrad’s assistance but said nothing as they rode out of the abbey’s courtyard. In fact, she said nothing for some time.
Cait could feel Conrad’s gaze, though she refused to look at him to confirm it.
“The pope’s nuncio is here in England to quash our rebellion.”
She kept her gaze straight ahead.
“Bishop Salerno believes if we are not successful in London, we will have lost our chance to bring the king to heel. And I concur. Taking the city, showing John we have the majority’s support, is our last move.”
Cait knew she was being silly.
Of course they should not marry without speaking to Terric first. Besides which, Conrad had plenty of other issues on his mind. He was the leader of a rebellion against a king—one that was very much underway.
And yet she was still angry.
“Cait?”
She intended to tell him it was nothing, that she was merely tired, yet the angry part of her insisted otherwise. “You keep dismissing me out of hand. First in front of the countess, and again with the bishop.”
“I am trying to protect you. To preserve your honor.”
Cait made a sound that was distinctly unladylike. “Well, well. I thank you, my lord, for your steadfast support of my honor.”
If she were being unreasonable, then so be it. She had no wish to discuss the matter with him further. Conrad must have realized it since he stopped attempting to get her to speak to him.
It was the longest morning yet. A steep incline coupled with gray skies that eventually opened just enough to dampen them, the weather making Cait’s foul mood even worse. By the time they stopped for a midday meal, she was already sore, wet, and confused. Yesterday, she’d spent the day attempting to break down Conrad’s final barriers. Today, she was more interested in sulking.
When Ansel produced bread, presumably from the abbey, she accepted it only because Cait knew she needed to eat. Even though the loaf had been freshly baked, it tasted like ash in her mouth.
It helped not at all that Conrad appeared completely unaffected by the current circumstances. Sitting as tall and proud as ever, the silver threads of his surcoat gleaming, he sat across from her on a flat rock, speaking to the men and not even glancing her way.
Which was just as well. She did not care if he failed to notice her. It was what she
wanted, was it not? He had more important matters to attend to than her, so let him do it. She would sit here content to eat her bread in soggy silence.