“We are almost there, lass,” the captain said softly close to her and her blood felt a little warmer coursing through her veins. He felt so close that she thought she might have fallen asleep and he pulled her onto his lap and whispered in her ear.
No one called her a lass. She liked how it sounded in his deep, gritty whisper.
“I do not mind.”
“Ye are no longer afraid to sleep ootdoors, then?” he teased gently.
She shook her head. “Nay, I’m not.”
“Yer faith in God is admirable.”
She smiled, liking his humility. “He sent me you.”
Chapter Five
Galeren sat onthe edge of the bed and held his grandsire’s bony, weathered hand in his strong, capable one.
Rowley Hetherington was in his last days. His breath was shallow and weak. He didn’t open his eyes to see his grandson or acknowledge him at all.
“He started his slow decline a month ago,” Galeren’s grandmother, May, had told him. “I wrote to your mother, but you know how long messengers take.”
“Well, I am here now,” Galeren told her. “My men and I are here to help with whatever ye need.”
“Oh, but you have a duty to see this lovely sister to the high steward and the church,” his grandmother reminded him.
“They can wait a bit,” Silene was quick to tell her from where she stood at the foot of the bed. “Caring for the sick should be the first priority to all members of the church, so I’m sure they will understand.”
Galeren had the urge to smile at her. Where did this courage to stand up to the church if she had to come from? Did he want her to have to?
“Captain,” Will appeared at the door. “Mac got himself mixed up in a bit of a scuffle with some of yer cousins. I think ye are needed before my brother gets involved.”
Galeren grinded his teeth together then let go of his grandsire’s hand and left his chair. He was angry when he walked out. These could be the last moments with his grandsire and he had to take charge over selfish men—his best friend among them. He realized as he left the house, that he left Silene in there, alone with his grandmother.
“Ye can barely lift the fat of yer belly off the table,” Mac shouted. “I would like to see ye lift a sword and face me, ye cowardly son of a–”
“Commander!” Galeren shouted, cutting him off. “Wait fer me…” He looked around, remembering coming here as a young lad after his grandparents left Carlisle. “Wait fer me ootside the hen house.”
“Where the hell is the hen house?”
Galeren pointed then glared at Will when he snickered. “Go with him.” He raked his gaze over Padrig and Morgann, the latter of whom, he knew did not find this humorous.
They both lowered their gazes.
“Jonathan of Brampton, son of my mother’s cousin, what is the meanin’ of this?”
His second cousin balked at him. “You take the side of a man of war over your own blood?”
“Aye, I do,” Galeren told him. “When I trust that man with my life—and besides, I barely know ye. Now, why dinna ye tell me what this fight is all aboot?”
It seemed Mac had threatened to rid Galeren’s kin of their teeth—without help from anyone else. Jonathan laughed while he told him, but Galeren didn’t doubt Mac could do what he’d said. There were seven men here. Reivers. Some were old and some were young. It didn’t matter. Mac was a ruthless madman when he fought.
“I once watched Mac walk through a sword swingin’ at his face so he could get to his enemy’s throat with his dagger. He doesna care what he has to go through to get to ye. Dinna put yerself in his way, Cousin. He will remove ye.”
He went to Mac after his cousins promised to stay out of Mac’s way. When he found his friend, Galeren expressed his disappointment in him. His old friend apologized and sent him back to his grandsire, vowing profusely to keep himself and the others in check.
When Galeren reached the room, he stood in the doorway while John’s niece sat in his chair, praying over his grandsire.
She didn’t cease when he came inside, proving to be comfortable in his presence while she prayed.