bawled like she had never done before. Gracie trusted the Highlander and accepted him. Sobs erupted from Caralyn’s gut because she knew her daughter had been able to do something she could not.
When Robbie disappeared into the distance, Caralyn sat down at the table in her room, rested her head on her arms and continued to cry, wailing so hard her body trembled.
She had let him walk out of her life.
A gentle hand rested on her shoulder. Caralyn started and lifted her gaze to see the prioress standing behind her.
“Child, if you wanted him to stay, I could have allowed it. He could have at least come inside to say goodbye to you and your children.” She tipped her head toward the window. “Even your wean has developed a fondness for the lad.”
“Nay, Your Grace, I couldn’t,” Caralyn sniffled.
“Lass, he seems like an honorable man. Why not? I know you are in pain from your injuries, but perhaps he could have helped you pass the time.”
Caralyn stood, her breath hitching while she struggled to calm herself. When her breathing slowed, she lifted herself up and stepped to the side of the prioress. Turning to face the woman, she clasped her hands together and knelt on the floor. Looking up into the prioress’s eyes, she grabbed the older woman’s skirts and sobbed uncontrollably, burying her face in the folds of the black robe. “Forgive me, Mother, for I have sinned. Please bless my soul and those of my daughters.”
The prioress rested the palms of her hands on top of Caralyn’s head and sighed before beginning a litany of prayer. After a few moments, she said, “Child, what could one so young have done to cause such guilt, such regret?”
Caralyn lifted her gaze and began her confession.
The abbess tipped Caralyn’s head back down so she could bow in prayer, but not before Caralyn caught the look of shock on the woman’s face when she began her list of transgressions.
Chapter Eight
A huge storm blew in that night, but Robbie’s crew managed to make it back to camp. When they arrived, Dundonald was there waiting for him, but the fighting hadn’t started yet. They spent most of the day strategizing and sending scouts out, even in the blustery autumn gales.
The following day, tensions were up. More rumors abounded, and his men were ready for battle. The storm had slowed, so the mood in the camp improved. Several scouts left in early light and were back by midday.
Tomas and Angus barged into the captain’s tent without announcing themselves. Robbie and Dundonald stared at the two Highlanders, knowing they brought important news.
“Their ships,” Tomas panted. “Several ships have run aground and there are Norsemen running all over the coastline and the beach. They are trying to salvage what they can from the damaged longboats, but many are battling with the local Scots in the area. Word has it Haakon is coming ashore with more men.”
“Anything you wish to add, Angus?” Robbie asked.
“Aye, get our arses down there before they take over.”
Dundonald nodded and looked at Robbie. “Take half your force and I will send other clans as well. Leave half here in case of an attack from another direction. If you need them, send Tomas back.”
This was it. Robbie couldn’t believe it. The Scots were actually going to fight the Norse. He strode out of the tent and whistled for his men. They planned their attack and he mounted with two flank horsemen each carrying the Clan Grant banner.
He had spoken with his brother, Brodie, a couple of hours ago, but he had headed off in search of a traitor. He said a brief prayer to protect all of his clan in this endeavor, as well as for guidance and wisdom to do what was best.
As soon as they neared the coastline, yelling and screaming rent the air, telling him the battle had already begun. He led his men into the melee, giving direction to his archers and his foot soldiers before he drove his men on horseback forward. He couldn’t believe the