Free True Highland Spirit by Amanda Forester Page B

motioned to her and Morrigan sat down on the bench beside him. He leaned forward, his voice lowered to a hush. “’Twas the strangest thing, Sister, but I coud’na raise a hand to him. I think God is on his side.”
    “I would hope so, him being a bishop and all.”
    “Truly, I found him alone, I had my knife, and suddenly the door slammed open and I broke my nose and I coud’na harm him.”
    A chill tickled the back of her neck. She had tried to kill the bishop too. It had been an easy shot, simple, no way to miss. Yet she had hesitated and was tackled to the ground. Had she also been thwarted by divine intervention? She had never been particularly religious, except to recognize she was on the list of the damned, but it was somehow important to her that God did stand beside the worthy. Not her, of course, but the chosen few.
    “I hope this bishop o’ yers will extend his protection to ye when ye travel,” mumbled Morrigan.
    McNab’s eyebrows shot up, and Morrigan scowled. She had been tricked into showing uncharacteristic sisterly concern.
    “Thank ye.” Archie said softly. “Now tell me how is it wi’ the clan. How much was destroyed? Can we survive the winter?”
    Morrigan opened her mouth to tell him the truth but closed it again. Archie needed to go with the bishop and testify against Abbot Barrick or none of them would ever have any peace. “I have heard there are French soldiers trying to convince the clans to join them in fighting against the English,” Morrigan said instead.
    “Aye, and willing to pay for every clan that joins,” added Archie.
    “Pay?” Archie had her attention. Odd that her French knight had not mentioned anything about payment. “They are paying the clans who join them?”
    “Dinna even think it, Morrigan. I dinna want ye fighting against the English. They will just slaughter us, and I dinna want ye anywhere near a camp o’ soldiers.”
    “Ye doubt my ability to defend myself?” Morrigan gave him a cold stare.
    “Nay, I trust ye would slaughter any man who came within arm’s reach. And then ye’d face a hangman’s noose. Tell me we are no’ so desperate we need think o’ joining a war party.”
    “It was a thought, that is all.” Morrigan stared at the blank wall.
    “Morrigan, tell me true. Can we survive the winter? I want to testify in Rome but not so much as to leave the clan to starve. The clan comes first. Always has. Always will.”
    Morrigan nodded. “I know it.” And saying it she realized she did know it. He was not much of a leader perhaps, but he had always tried to support the clan. And now he had a chance to finally stop Barrick. “We will be fine,” Morrigan lied. “Go to Rome. Stop Barrick. ’Tis the best ye can do now for the clan.” That part was true at least.
    “Thank ye. I am confident ye will do right by the clan.”
    Morrigan looked down at her hands. It was the best compliment her brother had ever paid her, and it touched her more than she wished to acknowledge. She took a deep breath and searched for something to say to break the awkward silence that stretched between them. Brothers and sisters were not meant to be kind. “Yer new wife is a nuisance.”
    Archie frowned. “Ye best be treating her right. If I need to choose, yer arse will be banished.”
    “Banished from the poorest clan in the Highlands? Oh, how will I e’er survive the loss?” Morrigan mocked. She was feeling much better. Normal. Normal was good.
    “Truly Morrigan. I want ye to make her welcome.”
    “I avoid her when possible. She’s always up to something. First it was cleaning the tower, and then it was planting a kitchen garden. She made poor Kip clean out the cesspools, I tell ye it was something foul.”
    “The clansmen treat her well?” Archie could not hide the twinge of anxiety in his tone.
    Alys had done more to make the tower habitable than the rest of the McNabs had in the past twelve years since their parents died. The clansmen adored Alys and