Arsenic and Old Armor Read Online Free Page A

or
arrange for my family to come and visit me here. I was discarded
and forgotten. Banished.”
    “ You were cared for,”
Sister Beatrice said softly. “You still are. Every one of us here
loves you. Things could have been a lot worse.”
    Marion blushed, feeling suddenly
embarrassed. “I am sorry. I did not mean to sound ungrateful. For
the past twelve years, you and the rest of the sisters here at the
abbey convent have kept me safe beneath your wings, nurtured me,
made me feel at home.” She straightened, wiping dough off her
fingers. “And this is all the more reason why this marriage should
not take place.”
    “ Why would that
be?”
    “ I need to stay here.
I want to stay
here,” she corrected herself. “I want to take my vows, become a
nun, do for others what you have done for me.”
    Beatrice sat down on a three legged stool
beside the table. Her expressive face reflected her distress. “You
haven’t been built for this kind of life, Marion. You are too much
of a free spirit…far too headstrong for the life of a nun. Your
many battles with the prioress over the years should have made you
realize that this cannot be a permanent home for you.”
    “ I can change. I can be
what everyone here wants me to be,” the young woman cried
passionately. “The prioress is a compassionate woman. She will not
refuse me shelter if I promise to obey her orders.”
    The older nun reached over and took the
young woman’s hand, stopping Marion from battering the dough
lifeless. “Would you want the same thing if marriage were not a
condition for returning home?”
    “ Well, I…”
    “ Is it possible that you
might be using the convent now as a way of punishing the laird for
sending you here to begin with?”
    Marion closed her eyes and threw her head
back in frustration.
    “ You miss your family,
lass. You always have,” the old nun said gently. “Your roots are
there in the Borders. You belong with your own folk. The time has
come. You should go to them.”
    “ Not with him. Not as the
wife of the Armstrong laird.” Mist gathered in Marion’s eyes when
she looked at her friend again. “And it is not just for myself that
I feel this way. I’m doing this for Iain, too. He has never wanted
this marriage. I’m going to set him free and let him have his land
in the bargain.”
    Marion’s heart skipped a beat as she
suddenly saw a giant of a man standing in the doorway behind
Beatrice. The sun was behind him, so she could not see his face.
But she knew him immediately from the tartan, the laird’s broach,
and the long brown hair touching his shoulders. He was larger than
she remembered him, though. Wider in the shoulders. Taller. She
wondered for how long he had been standing there and how much he
might have heard.
    Time was of the essence. Escape was
impossible. Marion picked up the wooden bowl of flour sitting
beside the dough and turned it upside down on her head.

CHAPTER 3
     
    A dusting of white powder covered Marion
from head to toe. The old nun jumped up from her seat and stepped
back, gaping in shock at the young woman. Iain masked any reaction
he might have had and strolled into the kitchen. A few of the
workers looked up from their tasks, immediately bowing slightly in
acknowledgment of his presence. As their eyes turned then to the
white statue standing by the kneading table, there were a few gasps
and even hushed chuckles.
    The older nun was quick to recover from her
surprise. “You must be Sir Iain. Welcome, m’lord.”
    “ And you are?” He took a
step farther into the kitchens.
    “ Sister Beatrice.” She
stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his path to Marion.
“You must have lost your way to the chapter house.”
    “ No, I have come to the
right place,” Iain answered, watching his future wife. She stood
motionless, still wearing the ridiculous bowl on her head. Beneath
the inane mess she’d created, however, it was impossible to miss
how much she had grown since he’d sent