“He is very kind and patient,” Silene told her. There was so much more to say about him, but she was sure his mother knew. And besides, Aleysia d’Argentan MacPherson was approaching.
“Tell me,” Braya leaned in and looked intently at her. “Would you say he is knightly?”
Her eyes flicked for just an instant, but Silene saw it.
“Oh, aye!” She tried to stop herself from sighing and grew a little lightheaded. “He saved me from men who had vile intentions toward me.”
“Very knightly, indeed. Aye, Aly?”
“I would expect nothing less from one of Torin’s sons,” Aleysia replied.
She was every bit as striking as Braya, but darker. Elysande looked almost exactly like her save for the gray in Aleysia’s hair.
“And God used him to save me from an arrow,” Silene added.
Both mothers looked equally stunned and impressed. “God used him,” Aleysia repeated with a smile. “There is no higher honor.”
Braya nodded and the two women giggled as if they were young maidens.
Silene knew she would like these two. And there were more. Julianna Feathers MacPherson, Nicholas MacPherson’s wife had red hair like Silene’s. It was plaited into a thick braid that hung over her shoulder. It made Silene want to grow her hair again.
“There will be many broken hearts when the lasses learn that Galeren the Bonny has lost his heart to a maiden,” Julianna told her. “That is when you will really have to watch your back as well as your front.”
The others laughed good-naturedly. Silene wasn’t sure if she should actually pray about such a matter as jealousy. She knew she would be miserable if he loved another.
“’Twill not matter if she is to become a nun,” Aleysia pointed out. Her voice was so soft and serene, Silene wanted to rest in it. “Or has our dear Galeren stolen your heart?” There was no malice in her tone, only curiosity.
“He has not stolen it, my lady,” Silene said softly. “He has asked for it.”
“And your reply?” his mother asked.
The small crowd of women suddenly parted and Father Timothy came forward.
“’Tis my turn to speak with her. If ye will excuse us. I willna keep her overly long.”
They all agreed and watched quietly as he invited her to the private chapel.
She turned to look over her shoulder at Galeren.
He was surrounded by men, but his face was turned toward hers, his eyes, watching. His mouth, smiling.
“It can get a wee bit overwhelmin’ when they are all together,” the priest told her while they left the manor house and walked toward a beautiful stone church. Its face and left side were covered in bare vines. All around the church were pale green bushes and a few evergreens.
Silene imagined what it looked like in the beauty of spring.
“Come.” Father Timothy opened the heavy, wooden door and ushered her inside.
When she stepped into the foyer, the smell of candlewax wafted through her nostrils. She followed him into the inner sanctuary where hundreds of tiny lights lit the altar. They both knelt at the cross before slipping into one of the stone benches.
“’Tis beautiful here,” she told him when he sat next to her.
“Ye are welcome here whenever ye want to be here. The doors are never locked. Ye can also go to the main church in the village square,” he paused to chuckle, “but ye willna be alone.”
She smiled. He made her feel at ease.
“Galeren has told me much about you, Father.”
“All good, I dare hope.” He didn’t look worried.