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For some reason, he fascinated her. She didn’t know why, though it could be his affable nature. Most men she had dealt with were loud and demanding, not so Lachlan. He seemed ready to please whether with word or action and in turn others sought to please him. She had seen it with his men and the way he handled them, praising, though in command. Even the so-called nuns weren’t impervious to his charm every now and again, and she had to remind them how intoxicating his charisma could be.
She wasn’t adverse to it herself. Yesterday, she had actually enjoyed his company when they talked, though she remained on guard. The man could simply disarm with his clever tongue.
Gooseflesh prickled her skin when she suddenly thought of what it would be like to kiss him. Was she daft? It was a crazy thought and one that should never have entered her head.
She kept her smile bright and her musings on more important matters when she reached him. “We would be pleased to have you and your men join us for the meal.”
A few men licked their lips, others mumbled beneath their breaths, and all of them looked with expectation to their leader.
“They’ll wash up before joining you,” he said and with his order given, the men rushed to obey. “Thank you for the invitation,” he added as his men scurried around him.
“It’s a beautiful day and we have plenty. Such a day should be shared with friends,” she said.
“You think of me as a friend, Sister Terese?”
“All those who come here, we accept as friends,” she said, though gave the notion thought. Was it even possible they could be friends?
“I’d make a good friend,” he said as if wanting to persuade her.
“That is for me to judge.”
He laughed. “True enough.”
“But it is also for you to judge if you deem me worthy enough to call friend.” Surprisingly, he appeared startled and to save the moment from turning awkward, she said, “The food will grow cold. Come and eat.”
He nodded and they walked to the table in silence.
It wasn’t long before a festive atmosphere filled the air and between mouthfuls tales were told, debates were argued, and friendships formed.
Terese knew Lachlan let the men linger instead of rushing them back to work. She was glad for it gave them all a reprieve to simply enjoy each other’s company. And for the first time in five years, she realized that she did miss the company of a man. And she had a feeling the other women were reaching the same realization, all except Megan. There was still apprehension in her eyes, and Terese could only imagine the horrors of what had happened to leave such deep scars.
The men were about to return to work when Megan jumped up from the table and ran. Terese and the other women were right behind her when they saw what had caught her eye. She saw Lachlan signal his men who quickly grabbed their swords and spread out around the convent grounds. Andrew and Boyd joined him as he followed the women.
A man, gaunt and barely able to take another step, was assisted by a woman who looked too old to hold him. Two children, a lad and lassie around five and eight, their faces dirty and much too thin, held hands tightly and followed behind them.
Megan went to help the man, but Andrew gently eased her out of the way. “I’ll do it,” he said and relieved the old woman of her burden.
Megan instead helped the old woman and Terese went to the children, but they backed away from her with wide, frightened eyes. Even Piper, who children were always drawn two, couldn’t coax them near.
“They joined us along the road, though it took time for them to be able to walk near us,” the old woman explained with a tired breath. “They haven’t spoken a word.”
Lachlan hunched down in front of them and with a broad smile introduced himself. “I am Lachlan of the clan Sinclare.”
There was hesitation, but it seemed that determination took over and the little girl attempted to step forward, though the lad fought to hold her back with a firm hand. She would have none of it and took an exaggerated step. Her red hair was heavy with grime, her face streaked with dirt, and her clothes so worn and tattered there was barely anything left, and her little feet were bare and filthy.
“The Sinclares are brave warriors?” she whispered to Lachlan.
“Aye, that we are, and I can offer you my protection if you will have it.”
Tears stained her soft blue eyes, and she fought bravely not to let them spill. “Truly, you can?”
“I give you my word as a Sinclare warrior,” Lachlan said strongly.
“Will you offer the same to my brother?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering.
