He shook off the man’s hand before addressing Mother Superior. “Meara is my mother’s name. A good Celtic name my sister chose to preserve in the family. It means the sea. As for my sister, you ruined her name with your slander. She was married to one of your kinsmen, an Englishman.” He spat the last word as if it were poison and needed to be out of his mouth.
‘Meara, come closer.” He gestured to a chair close to him.
She regarded it the same way she did the large cat she’d encountered in the woods. It was an unknown and possibly dangerous creature. Once she reached the hard wooden chair, she slid into it since her legs had turned weak.
“Could you give us a few moments alone,” he directed the comment to Mother Superior.
“Certainly not. I have the girl’s welfare to consider. Whatever you have to say can be said in front of me.
The man called Simon mumbled some unfamiliar words. They were enough to make the abbess gasp in consternation, which made them very powerful words indeed. She wished she knew them. The other man touched his companion.
“Remember where we are, this isn’t a public house.”
“Sorry, Meara.” He nodded at her and smiled again. The simple lifting of the lips caused his own face to light up. Even his eyes sparkled. He studied her as if she were an unusual bug. “You have the look of my sister, Sorcha, when she was younger. Doesn’t she Angus?”
The other man gave her a measuring look before replying, “She does indeed.”