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just been an untenable marriage she
     was avoiding, the woman surely would have sought sanctuary in an English abbey rather than
     run all the way up here to the middle of Scotland.
    A nudge from behind told Seonaid she had tarried too long in the door and Aeldra was
     becoming impatient to see what was about. Seonaid stepped into the chapel, aware that the
     smaller woman followed as she walked up the center aisle toward the altar and the woman
     kneeling there.
    “How do you plan to get her out of the abbey?”
    Blake gave a shrug of unconcern. “The moment she sees me she will come out.”
    “She will?” Rolfe sounded dubious.
    “Certainly.”
    “I see.” He pondered the idea briefly. “Then why ever did she flee to the abbey in the
     first place?”
    “She had yet to see me and had no idea what I looked like,” Blake responded promptly.
    “Ah.” Rolfe nodded. “So, as soon as she sees your fair visage”
    “She shall drop to the ground like a ripe plum and prostrate herself at my feet.”
    “Of course, she will,” Rolfe agreed with amusement.
    “Women have always reacted with favor to my looks.”
    “So I have heard.”
    “ 'Tis a curse, really.”
    “Hmm. You have my sympathies,” Rolfe said dryly, then added, “There is just one thing that
     concerns me.”
    “What?”
    “How is she going to see your fair visage and be overcome? She will be within the abbey
     walls, and we without. Only holy men are allowed past the gate.”
    Blake scowled. “I do not yet know. I have been thinking on it since leaving Dunbar Castle,
     but” He shrugged before glancing at the man riding beside him. “ 'Tisn't really my problem
     anyway. You are the one who was supposed to arrange everything. I was simply to travel to
     Dunbar for the execution.”
    Rolfe's lips turned up in amusement. “An execution, is it?”
    “It might as well be.”
    “ 'Tis sure I am Amaury thought 'twas something similar he was traveling to as well,”
     Rolfe said with a shrug. “Yet look how happy he and Emma are now.”
    A reminiscent smile claimed Blake's mouth as he thought of his friend, Amaury de Aneford,
     his little wife, Emmalene, and their fond farewell to him. “Aye, 'tis happy enough he is.
     He was sure Emma would be a hag. Did you know?”
    “Nay.” “Aye. He swore her first husband killed himself rather than go home and perform his
     duty.” “Really?”
    Rolfe sounded irritated. Glancing at him sharply, Blake noted the tightness around his
     lips and reminded himself the man was little Emma's cousin. “Of course, that was afore he
     set eyes on her. Once he saw how pretty she was, he was fair relieved. Howbeit, that was
     Amaury and Emma, Lady Seonaid is hardly the same tankard of ale.”
    Rolfe rolled his eyes. “You have not yet even met her.”
    Blake shrugged. “She is a Scot. And a Dunbar,” he added tightly. “ 'Tis all I need to
     know.”
    Gaze curious, Rolfe asked, “What caused the falling out your father had with Angus Dunbar?
     I understand they were as close as brothers at one time.”
    Blake was silent for a moment, then admitted, “I am not sure. Father would never speak on
     it. Howbeit, it must have been a fair filthy deal, for he has, as far back as I can
     recall, called the man horrid names and slighted him at every turn.”
    “Hmm.” Rolfe stared at the trees they passed through, then shrugged his curiosity aside.
     “As to gaining your bride from the abbey, mayhap Bishop Wykeham could be of some
     assistance there.”
    “What was that, my son?” Catching mention of his name, the bishop urged his mount up
     between the two men and peered from one to the other expectantly.
    “Blake and I were just discussing how to get the girl out of the abbey. I thought mayhap
     you could aid in the endeavor?”
    “Hmmm.” Bishop Wykeham's gentle face turned thoughtful as he considered the problem, then
     his bushy
    gray eyebrows rose and a wry smile came to his