short visitation. If all goes well, then he'll stay. Otherwise…'
'It will go well.'
'I won't have him put in jeopardy.'
'No, of course not.'
She tried to get off his lap. He stopped her by grabbing hold of her.
'Johanna?'
'Yes?'
'Do you trust me?'
She stared into his eyes for a long minute. He believed she was thinking the question over before she gave her answer. The possibility chafed. They'd been married for over three months now, and that was surely time enough for her to learn to trust him.
'Your hesitation irritates me,' he snapped.
She didn't seem particularly bothered by that fact. She touched the side of his face with her hand. 'I can tell it does,' she whispered. 'Yes, Gabriel, I trust you.'
She leaned forward and kissed him. The wonder in her voice, added to the show of affection, made him smile.
'Do you trust me?'
He almost laughed until he realized she was being serious. 'A warrior doesn't trust anyone, Johanna, but his laird, of course.'
'Husbands should trust wives, shouldn't they?'
He didn't know. 'I don't believe it's necessary.' He rubbed his jaw, then added, 'Nay, it would be foolish.'
'Gabriel?'
'Yes?'
'You make me want to tear my hair out.'
'Begging your pardon, mistress,' Hilda called out from the doorway. 'May I have a moment of your time?'
Johanna jumped off her husband's lap. She was blushing by the time she turned to the cook and bid her enter the hall.
'Who's sitting with Clare?' she asked.
'Father MacKechnie's with her now,' Hilda answered. 'She wanted to speak to him.'
Johanna nodded. Gabriel stood up. 'Why didn't you tell me she was awake?'
He didn't give her time to answer but started for the steps. Johanna hurried after him. 'I promised her she could stay here,' she blurted out.
Her husband didn't answer her. She pushed Dumfries out of her way and chased her husband up the steps.
'What are you thinking to do?' she demanded.
'I'm just going to talk to her, Johanna. You needn't worry.'
'She isn't up to a long conversation, husband, and Father MacKechnie might be hearing her confession now. You shouldn't interrupt.'
The priest was just opening the door to come out when Gabriel reached the chamber. He nodded to Father MacKechnie as he passed him. Johanna was right behind her husband.
'You will wait here while I talk to her,' Gabriel commanded.
'But she might be afraid of you, husband.'
'Then she'll have to be afraid.'
He shut the door in his wife's face. Johanna didn't have time to be outraged over his rudeness. She was too worried about Clare MacKay.
She put her ear to the door and tried to listen. Father MacKechnie shook his head and pulled her away.
'Let your husband have his privacy,' he suggested.
'You should know by now our laird would never hurt a woman.'
'Oh, I do know that,' Johanna rushed out. 'Still, Clare MacKay wouldn't know, would she?'
The priest didn't have an answer for her. She turned the topic then. 'Did you hear Clare's confession?'
'I did.'
Johanna's shoulders slumped. Father MacKechnie thought that was an odd reaction. 'Confession's a sacrament,' he reminded his mistress. 'She wanted absolution.'
'At what price?' Johanna asked in a whisper.
'I'm not understanding your question, lass.'
'The penance,' she blurted out. 'It was severe, wasn't it?'
'You know I cannot discuss the penance,' he said.
'Bishop Hallwick liked to boast about his penances,' Johanna blurted out.
The priest demanded several examples. The one that most repelled her she saved for last. 'One leg for one egg,' she said. 'The bishop laughed after he suggested that punishment to my first husband to inflict upon a serving girl.'
Father MacKechnie plied her with questions, and when she'd given him her answers, he shook his head.
'I'm ashamed to hear this,' he admitted, 'for I would like to believe all priests are good men doing God's important work here. Bishop Hallwick will have his day of reckoning when he stands before his Maker and tries to explain away his deliberate cruelty.'
'But, Father, the church stands behind the bishop. He takes his penances from the good book. Why, even the length of the stick is given.'
'What are you talking about? What stick?' the priest asked, thoroughly confused.
She didn't understand why he didn't know what she was talking about. 'The church dictates how a husband and wife should behave,' she told him. 'A submissive wife is a good and holy wife. The church approves beating women and, in fact, recommends such punishment because women will try to rule their husbands if they're not kept submissive.'
She paused to take a breath. Discussing the topic was upsetting to her, but she didn't want the priest to see her distress. He might ask her why she was distraught, and then she'd have to confess a dark and surely mortal sin.
'The church frowns on murder, of course. A husband shouldn't beat his wife to death. A stick is preferred over a fist. It should be wooden, not metal, and no more than this long.'
She held her hands out to show him the measurement.
'Where did you hear these rules?'
'Bishop Hallwick.'
'Not everyone in the church believes…'
'But they're supposed to believe,' she interrupted, her agitation apparent now. She was wringing her hands together and trying not to let the priest see how close she was to losing her composure.
'Why is that, lass?'
Why didn't he understand? He was a priest, after all, and should be most familiar with the rules governing women.
'Because women are last in God's love,' she whispered.
Father MacKechnie kept his expression contained. He took hold of Johanna's arm and led her down the hallway. He didn't want his laird to come outside and see his wife in such a distressed state.
There was a bench against the wall adjacent to the steps. The priest sat down, then patted the spot next to him. She immediately sat down. Her head was bowed, and she pretended great interest in straightening the pleats of her plaid.
Father MacKechnie waited another minute or two for his mistress to regain her composure before he asked her to explain her last remark.
'How would you know women are last in God's love?'
'The hierarchy,' she answered. She repeated from memory what she'd been taught, her head bowed all the while. When she was finished, she still refused to look at the priest.
