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The women worked well together, not a one of them complaining no matter what the task. They planted, tended the cows, sheep and horses, chopped wood, spun yarn, and cooked the most delicious meals he and his men had ever eaten. They visited the farms in the area on foot or horse and tended the ill that appeared at their doorstep.
They certainly were self-sufficient and comfortable with their surroundings and not at all fearful. How was it that the farms he and his men had stopped at along the way warned them of mercenaries, yet these nuns seemed unconcerned with their safety?
Mercenaries were known to spare no one—unless, could it be perhaps the nuns somehow had managed to strike a bargain with the band? The sisters were a resourceful lot and were not afraid to tackle any chore. And then, of course, there was their faith.
Lachlan approached Sister Terese with a wave. She stopped her planting and greeted him in similar fashion. She wore a welcoming smile and a large brimmed straw hat that shaded her face from the sun. She had rolled up the sleeves of her tired yellow blouse and had tucked her brown skirt between her legs, hooking the frayed end in her waistband to make it appear she wore pants. Her feet were bare and partially covered with the rich earth, and her slim ankles gave way to muscled calves. He forced his glance up to her face and silently warned his straying thoughts to behave.
“Such a lovely day, isn’t it?” she remarked.
Lovely. That’s what she was—lovely. He almost shook his head in an attempt to clear his musings, but corrected his action before it was too late and agreed with a firm nod.
“It surely is.”
“Then why do you frown?” she asked.
Because I find myself attracted to you beyond measure?
The thought never made it past his lips. Instead, he got straight to his reason for disturbing her work. “I was wondering if you have had any encounters with the mercenaries I heard were in the area.”
“We have been lucky, or rather blessed, since we have not been bothered by them.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“Perhaps they respect the church,” she said.
“Unlikely. They respect nothing but the coins their missions earn them.”
“True enough,” she agreed then shrugged. “But I have no other explanation to offer.”
“Not a one of the mercenaries has darkened your doorstep? Not even an injured one?” Lachlan thought about how his brother Ronan had left Zia’s village still recovering from his wounds and may have sought further care.
“The sisters and I do not question those who seek our help. If one of the ill had been a mercenary we would not have known it.”
Lachlan had to know if his brother had been at Everagis so he asked, “Any man a few inches taller than me, with auburn hair—”
Terese interrupted with a question. “You look for someone in particular?”
Lachlan hadn’t planned on confiding in her about his brother, but then, if he wanted her help, perhaps being truthful was his best choice.
“My brother Ronan,” he admitted. “Last my brothers and I heard, he was recovering from injuries. Where he went afterward, we don’t know, though we had been forewarned that if we found the daughter of the barbarian who captured my brother, we would find Ronan. We learned she might be connected with a band of mercenaries.”
“You believe those mercenaries in this area?”
“More northeast of here, but you never can tell.”
“Mercenaries are a band of misfits for hire. There are only poor farmers and pagans in this area. Nothing to attract the likes of mercenaries,” she said.
“Perhaps it’s simply a place of rest they seek.”
She nodded. “Ronan looks like you?”
He laughed. “He’s not as handsome as me.”
Terese chuckled. “And is he a charmer like you?”
“You noticed my best quality.”
“I don’t know if I would call it a quality, and we waste time on you when it is your brother you should be describing,” she chastised gently.
“You’re right,” he admitted. “As I said he is a couple of inches taller than me with auburn hair—”
She interrupted again. “If you know what wounds he suffered that might prove more helpful.”
“If I recall what Zia told me…”
“Zia is your wife?” Terese asked.
“Good lord, no.” Lachlan laughed and quickly apologized. “Sorry, Sister, but I have no plans of marrying any time soon.”
“Why?” she asked before he could continue.
He spoke the truth. “I’m not ready to commit to a wife.”
“Why?”
She asked why much too often, yet he felt compelled to answer her. “I enjoy the life I presently live.”
“And what life is that?” she asked.
“A life of freedom,” he answered with a generous smile.
“I understand,” she said with a slow, continuous nod.
Oddly enough, he believed she did, though he couldn’t say why.
“And Zia is?”
“She is my brother Artair’s wife and a remarkable healer.”
