The Viking - Page 124/130

"I would like that very much." She was still a little afraid she was sleeping and would wake to find him gone. But he felt so real. "Where have ye been?"

"I have been with ye. I have loved ye and prayed for ye and sent ye all kinds o' messages in my mind. Did ye not receive them?"

She giggled, pulled away a little and looked up at him. "What messages?"

"Each night I told ye I was not dead and each morning I told ye to wait for me."

"Then I must have gotten them for I would not believe ye were dead…and I waited." She slipped her arms around him and laid her head back on his chest. "Dinna let go o' me, Stefan. Dinna ever let go o' me."

"I will never let go." At last, she lifted her head and he lowered his lips to hers.

*

The priest sat at one end of the table and Macoran sat at the other. Between them were Agnes Macoran and her two twelve-year-old sons, one on each side of her. Seated across from her, William waited patiently.

The priest finished writing something down and then looked up. "And why has it taken ye all this time to bring it to my attention, Laird Macoran?"

Macoran was not prepared for that question and scratched his head trying to think of a reason.

"Because I just this morning confessed," said William. His words shocked him as much.as it did everyone else. Then he narrowed his eyes and pointed at Agnes, "She did it."

"Ye bedded her?" the astonished priest asked.

"Nay, 'twas my uncle."

It was the first Macoran heard anything about an uncle, but he was entranced with the story.

The priest frowned, "If that be the case, I will hear it from yer uncle."

William crossed himself and hung his head, "Dead these five years I am sad to say. I miss him still."

"Be silent," Agnes shouted. "Ye lie."

"I dinna lie, I saw it. Ye tempted him, ye did and I saw it."

"When?"

William found her question confusing. "Years ago, afore yer sons were born."

Agnes scooted her chair back and stood up. "Are ye saying these are not Macoran's sons?"

Finally getting his wits about him, Macoran spoke up. "They are not."

"They are not?" the priest asked. "How do ye know?"

He glanced at his wife and then turned his full attention to the priest, "I swear to ye that lass has never been in my bed."

Growing more incredulous by the moment, the priest's mouth dropped. "Not in all these years?"