Free Angel of Skye by May McGoldrick

the prioress.
    “Please, m’lady. I cannot undo the foolish things I’ve done,” Fiona said, placing the warm cloths over the knee of the older woman. The swelling is getting worse, she thought. “But this is different. When I go into the forest, I do not disobey you for childish or selfish reasons. Walter counts on me. Please understand! You know that for years I have—”
    “Been risking your life going there alone. You’ve paid back that man’s good deed tenfold, child. When are you going to understand?” The prioress paused as another emotion besides anger wedged its way into her consciousness. “Fiona, nothing you have ever done has been selfish. Foolhardy, aye. Selfish, never. I fear for you because you put the well-being of all God’s creatures—man and beast—ahead of your own. You don’t think of yourself, nor of your safety.”
    Fiona looked up at the woman who had raised her and loved her—and put up with the hell that she had sometimes brought to her door. Fiona knew, without question, that the prioress’s anger always stemmed from the worries that Fiona herself wrought in her. Well, except, perhaps, for the episode with her falcons, Fiona thought, hiding a smile.
    The older woman’s now gentle voice brought her back to the present.
    “Fiona, child. You know I love you like a daughter. Every time I think or find out about you being out there alone, something shrivels up within me. I worry about you. Do you understand? You know that there was a very good reason for the lepers to hide themselves from Torquil’s brutality.”
    “Aye, m’lady. But he’s gone now, and—”
    “Aye, Fiona. But those ignorant swine who served him are not!” The older woman’s temper flared once again. “Because of the new laird, Lord Macpherson, the lepers have been given a chance to live out their miserable lives in peace. And besides, they have Father Jack. That old hermit can see to their needs. But a young lass roaming the woods alone...”
    “But m’lady, that is a nun’s work. Helping the sick and needy, I mean.”
    “Fiona, how many times do I need to tell you, you are not a nun!” The older woman took a deep breath, trying to regain control of her raging temper. When she spoke again, her voice was clipped. “I do not know where I have gone wrong in your education, but Fiona, I am saying it again: You are not a nun, young woman.”
    “M’lady prioress, I know I’m not. But that does not alter my wish of becoming one...someday.”
    “Fiona,” the prioress responded, considering her words and pausing for a moment to marvel at her own patience. “Fiona, that cannot happen. It will not happen. Not in this lifetime. Now, I want you to forget about it.”
    “But why?” The young woman looked helplessly at the prioress, her hands spread imploringly.
    The nun looked feelingly at the beautiful and disappointed child leaning in front of her. She had never told her that becoming a nun was an option for her. Never. But neither had she told Fiona that life still had so much in store for her. That her destiny lay in other places, in other hands. There was so much that she wanted to reveal but could not...yet. The prioress wanted to have all the answers before she would reveal the truth. She knew the time would come, though, and soon. After all, the messenger to Lord Huntly had returned, having successfully delivered her letter. Now all she had to do was to keep Fiona safe and close. But that was the biggest challenge of all. It always had been.
    The prioress reached over and took Fiona’s hand in her own. When she spoke, her words were gentle. “I have told you many times that you should not call yourself a nun or feel as though you should act like one. You have lived and worked and learned in this Priory. We have shared a wondrous part of your life. What the future brings, we can never be sure of. But a religious life is not your calling, that I am sure of. So we will not speak of it again, Fiona, and