Choosing the Highlander by Jessi Gage

is?” Wilhelm said.  
    Terran’s brown pressed together. His eyes popped open. A grin spread across his face as he looked first to Wilhelm then to Aifric. “Nay,” he said simply, and he sat up to lay the tenderest of kisses upon Aifric’s lips. “Today we will be wed.”  
    “Aye,” Aifric whispered. All traces of sadness vanished from her as she beheld her groom.  
    They pressed their foreheads together again, as they had been in slumber. Terran held the bairn secure in one arm, a natural father. The sight warmed Wilhelm’s heart and multiplied his longing for the woman in the next room. He lusted to lay eyes on her, but he must see to Terran first. The man was hopeless in his grooming. ’Twould take at least an hour to make him presentable.  
    “Come, cousin. Let us prepare you for your bride.”  
    While Terran and Aifric said their temporary goodbyes, Anselm carried a laden breakfast tray into the room. “I thought the women could break their fast together. Wake Mistress Constance, would you?” He set the tray down and began pouring the tea.  
    It seemed he would have the pleasure of laying eyes on Constance after all. He went to her room and rapped on the door.  
    There was no response.  
    The lass must be sleeping soundly. Since there were no bars on the doors in the abbey, he pushed it open and stuck his head in.  
    “Constance,” he said. “Are you awake, lass?”  
    She didn’t answer.  
    He had left the candles in Aifric’s room and couldn’t see much in the dim light from the corridor. Remembering where the bed was, he went to it in the dark, thinking to touch her bonny hair and mayhap wake her with a kiss on her cheek.  
    He found the edge of the bed and felt for her warm form. All he found were cold blankets. She was gone.  
    His heart lunged into his throat. “Anselm!”  
    The abbot came running.  
    “She’s gone. Have ye seen her?”  
    Anselm shook his head. “Nay. I’ll ask the others.” He turned and hurried toward the dining hall.  
    Wilhelm ran in the other direction, toward the nearest door to the grounds. Curse you, man, why did you nay sleep in front of her door to prevent her from fleeing!  
    What a fool he’d been. He had not even attempted to ask her again where she hailed from. Her origins had seemed less and less important the more he imagined her as a permanent fixture in his life. If she had run away in the night, he might never see her again. He hadn’t even the faintest notion where he ought to begin searching.  
    He burst through the door to the cloister and pushed his legs to carry him as fast as they could toward the stables. If a horse and saddle were missing, he would mount up and ride after her. She was still healing from injuries and had no business taking to the wilderness alone. She had no business fleeing from him. Did she not ken by now she was safer by his side than any other place on God’s green Earth?  
    “Where’s the fire?” someone called from the direction of the garden.  
    He stopped his mad dash and turned to find the speaker. The small plot within the cloister was used mostly for herbs. It lay largely fallow for winter, but the monks had dedicated a few rows to winter vegetables. Yesterday, Wilhelm had helped them transfer young kale and radish plants from the glasshouse. There amidst the fresh green leaves knelt Constance. She’d wrapped herself in a blanket from her bed.  
    Relief sang through him.  
    “What are ye doing, lass?” His voice cracked unbecomingly. He cleared his throat and willed his racing heart to slow. “When I didna find you in your bed, I feared you’d gone.”  
    She stood from where she’d been kneeling. He glimpsed her lower legs and her bare feet as she let down the hem of her shift. He lusted to wash her again to free her creamy skin of the black specks of earth.  
    “I didn’t mean to worry you. I woke early and wanted to watch the sun rise.” She glanced toward the east with a