“Your leg. Take your time,” he said, recalling her injury that she claimed had healed.

She barely heard him, his words continuing to repeat in her head.

I love you, wife. I love you, wife.

He had said it with such ease, so naturally that it had to be the truth. He loved her. Her husband loved her.

They entered the Great Hall the same time the Abbott did.

Her father greeted the man enthusiastically. “Welcome. Welcome, Abbott Thomas. I’m sure you can settle this disturbing matter for us once and for all.”

Purity had never met Abbott Thomas, though she had heard enough about him. He was a tall man and slim with a stern countenance to him. His white hair spoke of an aged man and yet his good features with few wrinkles belied the same. His hands lay crossed over his waist and buried deep in the wide sleeves of his brown robe.

Arran acknowledged the man with a nod. “Abbott Thomas, I am Arran, Purity’s husband.”

Abbott Thomas gave him a nod, then turned to Purity.

“Your hand, daughter,” her father scolded, nodding at her claw-like hand, resting on her stomach. “We will not burden the Abbott with looking upon your affliction.”

Arran took Purity’s deformed hand in his. “There is nothing wrong with her hand.”

“Of course not,” Abbott Thomas said. “God gives to the strong those that the weak cannot handle. Purity is a shining example of His strength.”

The Abbott’s remark stunned Purity. She had always been told her deformed hand was the sign of the devil. Never had anyone every professed it to be a sign from God.

“I must congratulate you both on your marriage,” Abbot Thomas said, a smile finally surfacing on his otherwise stern face.

Galvin released a heavy sigh. “Then they are wed.”

“Of course they are,” Abbott Thomas assured him. “Brother Noble had it recorded at the monastery weeks ago.”

Purity didn’t think it had been weeks, but she hadn’t exactly been keeping track of time.

“I will send word to Brynjar and see him sent on his way,” Galvin announced with glee. “Though he might want to speak with you, Brother Abbott.”

“I’d be only too glad to confirm Arran and Purity’s marriage. And I would be delighted if they would allow me to join them in marriage in front of family and friends so that no one can ever doubt they are husband and wife.”

“I’d like that,” Arran said to Purity’s surprise. “I want witnesses to see that I take this woman as my wife of my own free will.”

Her husband stunned her again, his words filling her with joy.

“That is most honorable, Arran,” Abbott Thomas said.

“Aye, a wise idea,” Galvin joined in. “And a small feast to follow.”

Purity stared at her father. He actually seemed to favor the celebration, but why not? It gained him what he wanted all along.

“Daughter, you will speak to Iona about the feast, a wise choice you made appointing her cook. Her food is much tastier than Orvin’s. And Arran, you must send notice to your family and I will send invites to the other clans. In three days’ time we shall hold the ceremony and the feast, if that is agreeable with you, Abbott Thomas,” Galvin said, his excitement palpable.

“I look forward to it. It has been too long since I attended a happy celebration,” Abbott Thomas said.

For a moment, Purity thought she was dreaming again. Her father looked quite happy and her husband did as well. Even Abbott Thomas seemed more pleasant. Was all this real? Could the whole thing possibly be a dream and she had yet to wake?

“What are you waiting for, daughter?’ her father snapped. “Go speak with Iona now. She needs time to prepare for the feast.”

“After Purity eats,” Arran said, holding tight to his wife’s hand.

“Of course, in my excitement I forgot, and Abbott Thomas needs food and drink after his journey,” Galvin said.

“I could do with both and then a bedchamber where I may pray and rest,” Abbott Thomas said.

They all took seats at the dais and food and drink began streaming in from the kitchen.

Purity saw that the Abbott’s one hand was wrapped in a cloth and curiosity had her asking, “You suffered an injury, Abbott Thomas.”

“A stubborn injury that refuses to heal,” he acknowledged.

“There is a fine healer in the Clan MacKinnon. Wren could have a look at it if you’d like,” Purity said.

“The Abbott is a man of God and Wren is a witch,” Galvin reprimanded in a harsh whisper.

“Wren is no witch. That is nothing more than evil gossip. She is a fine healer and she helped you,” Purity reminded. “Your stomach pains you less and you’re eating better.”

“There is a healer monk at the monastery who helps me,” the Abbott said and that brought the conversation to an end.

Talk continued rather pleasantly after that and Purity found she was enjoying herself, something she had never done at the dais before this. That was until the door burst open and Brynjar entered the room like a raging animal.

Tags: Donna Fletcher Highland Promise Trilogy Romance
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