She remained at his grandsire’s side, praying and speaking softly.
“What a wonderful gel,” his grandmother commented to him a little later when she asked him for some help in the kitchen. “I do not need any help,” she confessed, winking up at him. “I wanted to speak to you alone for a few moments.”
He put his arm around her. “Of course, Grandmother. What is it ye wish to speak to me aboot?”
She stared at him with deep blue eyes. “I would like to…to see my daughter, Braya, one more time before I die. Rowley cannot make the trip. But after…I wish to go to the Highlands and see my daughter.”
Of course, he would take her. How could he refuse such a request? “Aye. I will take ye. I know my mother misses ye. She speaks of ye whenever I visit. Uncle Galien should come as well. ’Twill be colder by the time I am free to take ye so—”
“Pardon me, Mrs. Hetherington.”
They both turned when they heard Silene’s voice. “Your husband is awake and asking for you.”
Galeren’s grandmother gave her a stunned look and then smiled and made the sign of the cross and hurried off.
Alone with Silene, he looked toward the room. “What happened?”
She shrugged her delicate shoulders and followed his gaze then looked at him. “I was praying, and I heard him speak.”
His eyes opened wider as he turned to her. “Who?”
“Your grandsire.”
They both smiled and then went into the room when he heard his grandmother call out for him.
Rowley Hetherington was not sitting up in bed, but he was awake and speaking very softly to his wife. When his gaze found his grandson standing in the doorway, his bright gray eyes filled with tears.
“Greetin’s, Grandsire.” Galeren’s voice sounded too loud in the stark hush that had come over the room. “’Tis good to see ye.”
“Then why are you still standing way over there?”
Galeren crossed the room in three strides. When he reached the bed, he bent to his grandsire’s arms and was engulfed in a firm but frail embrace.
“How are ye feelin’?”
“Not bad. Not bad. How long are you here for?”
“Now, Rowley,” Galeren’s grandmother stopped him. “I told you he must deliver Sister Silene to the high steward.”
“We shall see, Grandsire. I dinna think one more night would hurt.”
His grandsire smiled and Galeren was sorry it had been so long since he had visited his mother’s side of the family. His grandsire had almost died without seeing him again.
“How is my Braya?” he asked.
Galeren smiled. “Still as quick and as deadly as ever. She has a happy life with my father.”
They spoke for over an hour, until Galeren’s grandsire fell back to sleep. His grandmother remained by his side in case he needed anything when he awoke again.
Galeren went in search of Silene. He found her in the village chapel deep in her prayers with Mac and Morgann guarding her at the door on the inside of the chapel.
Joining them, the three waited in silence while she prayed.
Galeren’s breathing slowed while he watched her, bathed in golden candlelight. She knelt before the small altar. Behind it, a wooden cross rose in the air. Her head was tilted upward. Her eyes were closed, and her hair was pushed off her face by her bandage.
His thoughts brought him to her abduction. When he’d found her gone, his first notion had been that she had run away. But she hadn’t seemed the foolish type to put herself in such danger. She’d been taken. Under his care. But the panic and fury he’d felt hadn’t been because she was his responsibility and he’d failed. It was more than that. A little more that made him want to kill them all for daring to take her.
There was no reason to keep watch over her so closely in the village. Mostly everyone who lived here was kin. But if anyone touched her, being kin wouldn’t matter.