Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Once Carenza handed the abbot at Kildunan a purse heavy with coin, he was more than happy to allow her entrance to the cloister. She requested to see the three monks Peris had named. The prior fetched Brother Michael first.
The elderly monk had bad eyesight, an arthritic limp, and a white fringe of hair.
In case he was hard of hearing as well, she said loudly, “I wish ye to know I’m makin’ a sizable donation to Kildunan in your name, Brother Michael. Peris the physician was with my mother when she left this world. He told me ye too are often found by the side o’ the dyin’, givin’ them comfort and easin’ their souls. ’Tis for your great gift o’ the heart I give ye thanks.”
“Bless ye, m’lady.” Brother Michael seemed pleased, though she wondered if he wasn’t far from death himself. He had to squint to look at her, and one of his hands had a bad tremor. Still, his voice was strong enough. He might have been the one she’d heard in the passageway. It was hard to tell.
“If ’tisn’t too much trouble,” she said, giving him her biggest smile, one he’d be able to see, “can ye tell me about one o’ your most memorable vigils?”
She wasn’t sure whether the story would be of use, but it might help to hear more of his voice.
“O’ course, m’lady.” He screwed up his face, thinking. “There was an elderly nobleman I remember. He claimed he had a son in the village, though he’d ne’er met him. I asked for his name and, by the grace o’ God, I was able to find the lad.” He seemed to drift off for a moment, lost in the memory. Then he blinked and finished the story. “I brought him to the man’s deathbed, and they were able to make their peace before the Lord came down to collect his soul.”
“How marvelous,” Carenza exclaimed, placing a palm on her bosom. “But why had he ne’er met the lad before?”
Brother Michael lowered his voice and beckoned her close. “A man on his deathbed will confess all manner o’ sins to a monk. To be honest, the lad was a by-blow. But the nobleman loved him as a true son all the same. I daresay the lad and his mother were pleased to be given a hefty portion o’ the man’s estate upon his demise.”
“Indeed.”
But was it the truth? Had Brother Michael had actually found the man’s son? Or had he presented an impostor and split the inheritance with the lad’s mother?
“What a lovely outcome,” she said. “Thank ye for your time. And your generosity.”
She decided Brother Michael might indeed have the wiles to cheat a man on his deathbed. It was less likely he had the stamina to smuggle valuables out of the monastery or to walk all the way to Dunlop to conspire with the physician.
The prior summoned Brother Robert next. He was a robust and jovial fellow with black hair and merry blue eyes. He definitely had the stamina to be an outlaw.
When she asked him for a story, the one that came to mind made him chortle with glee. When he spoke, it was difficult to compare his voice to the one she’d heard at Dunlop, because his mood was vastly different.
“I once sat at the bedside of a man who claimed he’d ne’er confessed his sins. Naturally, he wanted to do so, knowin’ he hadn’t long to live. So I offered to listen.” The monk’s speech was punctuated by snickers and chuckles. “He went on for half a day, listin’ every wrongful act he’d done. Every hound he’d kicked. Every kiss he’d stolen. Every instance he’d labored on the Sabbath. Faith, ye’d have thought he was an outlaw bound for hell for all the ‘crimes’ he’d committed. But just when I thought he’d finished up, and I rose to go, he remembered a dozen other sins. I sat back down, and he told me about the innocent dragon he’d slain while the beast was asleep.” He roared with laughter. “Then he told me how he’d wrongly accused his sister o’ being a changelin’, stolen the eggs from a gryphon, wounded the water beast o’ Loch Ness, and fornicated with a selkie…in rather great detail.” He guffawed at that.
Carenza blushed. She didn’t know what to say.
Then Brother Robert’s laughter died out. “The truth was the fellow likely hadn’t anyone to stay with him. He feared if he didn’t keep me entertained with his colorful confessions, I’d leave him alone.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t have. What else has a monk to do?”
“’Twas good o’ ye to stay with him.”
She wondered if Brother Robert had enjoyed the man’s salacious confessions as much as the man had enjoyed sharing them. He seemed too good-humored to engage in serious theft. On the other hand, he did reveal a rather careless attitude toward the dying man’s soul, and if he shared the same unconcern for the sacred treasures of a monastery…
Brother William was her last interview. His countenance was somber and withdrawn. He made no eye contact, nor did he smile or speak.
He gave her mostly one-word answers, and only when she asked him to relate a story did his eyes awaken with interest. His voice, like the others, was unrecognizable as the man who’d spoken with Peris.
“I remember my first vigil,” he said, his gaze focused on the ground, where he seemed to glimpse some distant memory. “’Twas one o’ my fellows. A young lay brother named Liam. Too young and fair for death.” His face took on a melancholy cast. “I held his hand as he lay dyin’. His skin was so pale, like candle wax. When he was awake, he wished to hear Bible verse. But he slept most o’ the time, lookin’ as peaceful as a bairn. His breath would sometimes stop for long intervals and then resume. Almost like heaven and earth were warrin’ o’er him. Then, as evenin’ neared, a rattle started in his chest, and the abbot said ’twas nearly time. But I couldn’t leave him. Even if he’d ne’er wake again, I couldn’t leave him, for fear the Devil, in his jealousy, might snatch up Liam’s beautiful soul ere the angels could convey him to heaven.” His eyes filled with tears.
Carenza placed a consoling hand on his arm, but he withdrew from her touch. She should have expected as much. Monks weren’t used to a woman’s comfort.
“What happened then?” she gently inquired.
“He woke once. And spoke his last words. Then he drifted into death’s arms.”
“What were his last words?”
Brother William sniffed back his tears and whispered, “He said, ‘I’ve always loved ye.’” Then he cleared his throat and finally looked at her, stating adamantly, “The abbot said he was speakin’ to our Lord.”
She gave him a smile of compassion.
She might have said more, but the monastery gates suddenly opened behind her, emitting visitors.
Brother William’s eyes went wide as he blurted, “Is that all, m’lady?”
She nodded, and he hastened toward the dormitory, as if he feared discovery.
When she wheeled around, she was face to face with Father James, flanked by two monks. He peered down at her with stern disapproval.
“What is a woman doing in the cloister?” he asked of no one in particular.
She gave him her most disarming smile. But for once, it didn’t seem to work.
The abbot rushed forward to intervene. “Lady Carenza o’ Dunlop, Father, the laird’s—”
“I know who she is. Why is she inside the monastery walls?”
If Carenza wasn’t already aware that Father James wasn’t a suspect, she would have added him to the list. He’d never been a friend to women. But he seemed unnecessarily severe and hostile today. He was the sort of entitled clergyman who did as he pleased and took what he wanted. Could that include church treasures?
“Father,” the abbot said, “Lady Carenza wished to give the monastery a considerable amount in tithin’.”
“Ah.” Father James’s brows lifted a quarter of an inch. “And has she done so?”
“Aye.”
“Then ’tis time for her to leave.”
Carenza bit back a rude retort. It would do no good to make an enemy of the father.
“As ye wish, Father,” she said with a respectful nod of her head.
As she picked up her skirts to start across the cloister, she heard him address the abbot.
“Where is that Rivenloch man?”
“At Dunlop, Father.”
Carenza slowed her step.
“Dunlop? How long has he been there?”
She peered over her shoulder.
The prior joined the abbot and arched a judgmental brow. “Several days, Father.”
“Two days,” corrected the abbot.
“So has he decided against…” Doubt dripped from Father James’s voice. “Taking his vows?”
The abbot stumbled a bit and replied, “Er…nay. He…still means to join the order.”
“Then why is he at Dunlop?”
“There was an accident, Father,” Carenza told him. “Sir Hew was badly burned.”
The father scowled. He obviously thought women should be seen and not heard. Perhaps not even seen.
The abbot added, “It happened at Dunlop. The physician thought it best not to move him.”
“So he intends to return?”
“N—” she began.
“Aye,” the abbot interjected. “Aye, he should be well in…a day or two?”
The abbot was looking at her for confirmation. Confirmation she didn’t want to give. She didn’t want Hew to return to the monastery. She wanted him to stay at Dunlop. With her.
But she didn’t want to endanger him or his mission. So she nodded.
“I would speak with him upon his return,” the Father said to the abbot. “I find it curious that a border clan warrior would wish to join a holy order in the Highlands.”
“So I’ve said many times,” the prior smugly snipped.
To the prior’s disappointment, Father James ignored him. Instead, he turned to Carenza. “You’ll tell Sir Hew I look forward to his return to Kildunan.”
Carenza didn’t particular like being ordered about by a priest. But she bowed her head. Now was not the time to ruffle feathers. This time, however, she skipped the smile. Father James clearly disliked her. Maybe he disliked all women. That was probably useful in his profession. But it rendered her best weapon—her charm—worthless.
Hew spent most of the afternoon pacing back and forth along the wall walk. He told himself it would help him recover from two days wasted in an opium stupor. After all, he was used to a daily diet of combat and lovemaking, neither of which he’d enjoyed for weeks. If he could neither wield his axe or ease his lust, he could at least ensure his legs didn’t stiffen with disuse.
But that didn’t explain why he kept eyeing the castle road every time a new traveler surfaced from the woods.
Carenza had been gone for hours. Soon it would grow dark.
Had there been trouble at the monastery? Had she raised any suspicions with her questioning? Had she uncovered the accomplice and unwittingly put a target on her back?
Bloody hell. He should never have let her go.
At the time, it had made sense. She’d convinced him it was perfectly safe. Reasonable. The best option. But perhaps it had only seemed so because he was basking in the afterglow of her caresses. Sometimes it seemed to Hew that when his blood rushed to his loins, it vacated his brain.
He wished he’d never involved her.
Just then, the Laird of Dunlop and his small entourage appeared over the rise, returning from the Boyle keep. Even at a distance, Hew could hear the men jesting and laughing. Maybe Carenza had been right. Maybe they’d gone as much to crow over the Boyles’ misfortune as to lend assistance.
When his gaze returned to the road, Carenza had already emerged from the trees and was halfway to the keep. By all appearances, she was safe and sound.
He let out a relieved breath. His shoulders dropped. Finally he felt like he could stop pacing. He hurried down to meet her in the great hall.
When he neared, her eyes lit up briefly, as if he were the only man in the room. But he wasn’t. Servants hurried back and forth between them, preparing for supper and the return of the laird.
They couldn’t talk here. She quickly ushered him upstairs to the solar and closed the door.
He feared she meant to begin again where she had left off. Kissing him. Embracing him. Caressing him. Actually, “feared” wasn’t quite the right word for it.
But she had more important matters on her mind.
Without preamble, she said, “Father James was at Kildunan.”
“Shite.”
“Ye have to go back to the monastery.”
“Now?”
“Perhaps on the morrow?” she suggested.
“Why?”
“He wants to question ye.”
“Question me about what?”
“The same thing everyone has been wonderin’.”
He furrowed his brow. What was she talking about?
She told him. “Why an illustrious warrior o’ Rivenloch would wish to take holy vows at a Highland monastery.”
He sighed. Of course hawk-eyed Father James would want to know that. “What did the abbot say?”
“He said ye do mean to join the order, that ye were only staying at Dunlop because o’ the accident.”
He nodded. That was good. But he still had to convince Father James he was sincere in his monkish pursuits and not doubling as a spy. It put him in an awkward position, keeping the abbot’s secret. Hopefully, when he uncovered the perpetrators, he would be forgiven for not being entirely forthcoming.
“Did you learn anything from the monks?” he asked.
“Aye, though not enough to completely eliminate any o’ them. Brother Michael is likely too feeble. But ’tis quite possible he’s committed previous crimes. Brother Robert is a jovial fellow. But he seems irreverent enough to sin without battin’ an eye. Brother William is quiet and tenderhearted. But he fled when Father James showed up, as if he had somethin’ to hide.”
Hew nodded. He knew all three monks, and he could guess what Brother William had to hide. Within the church, it was a sin worse than theft. But Hew wasn’t going to be the one to expose the poor man.
“So what’s next?” she asked.
“I return to the monastery.”
She placed a hand on his chest and looked up at him with her wide violet eyes. “I don’t want ye to go.”
He enfolded her hand in his. “I don’t want to go.”
But Carenza knew better than to argue with him. She was bright enough to recognize it was a matter of safety.
“How can I help?” she asked. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. Not for a while. Perhaps a fortnight or two. We have to put Father James’s fears to rest. Convince him my intentions are sincere.”
She nodded and lowered her head. When she looked up again, there was a probing intensity in her gaze. She said softly, “What about your intentions as far as I’m concerned?”
That he could answer. He was even more sure of it now than ever. Now that he’d spent half the day pacing the wall in worry over her.
He lifted her hand to place a kiss on her palm, enclosing it there by folding her fingers over.
“You already have my heart,” he said. “I intend to give you my hand.”
It was a bold promise. One neither of them had the power to keep. After all, their futures were in the hands of the king. But Hew meant every word of it.
Carenza’s eyes brimmed with tears of joy. “Then I shall have patience.”
He kissed her brow. “What is a fortnight or two when we have our whole lives ahead of us, aye?”
A fortnight seemed like an eternity to Carenza. She’d never been in love before. And she’d only just begun to sample the joys of courtship. How could she survive without his smoldering glance, his warm embrace, his heart-melting kiss, his breathtaking caress?
“If we must starve for so long,” she murmured, lowering her eyes to linger on his delectable lips, “then let us feast tonight.”
Regret etched his face. “Och, lass, nothing would please me more. But we dare not.”
“Why? No one will know.”
“I will know.”
“But ye mean to marry me.”
“I mean to, aye,” he said. “But every king who wages war means to win. That isn’t always what fate decrees.”
She rested her head against his chest. Listened to the steady beat of the heart he said was hers.
Fate wouldn’t dare cross her. Not when their two paths had intersected at just the right time. Not when Sir Hew was a match her father actually wanted for her. Not when she was in love with a man who was politically perfect for her and her clan. It had to be. They were meant to be.
She knew he was only acting out of chivalry. He wished to protect her. To preserve her maidenhood. To safeguard her reputation.
But she didn’t need guarding. She wasn’t afraid. No one would find out. She was used to keeping up appearances, accustomed to hiding her emotions. Her trusty mask had always served her well.
She lifted languid eyes to his. “Just one kiss to remember ye by?”
He arched a scolding brow.
“One kiss…” Using the tip of her finger, she made a slow circle on the patch of bare flesh just above the neck of his leine. “To last a fortnight?”
He shivered. She saw his resolve wavering.
“And what if ’tis two fortnights?” he asked.
She gave him a sultry smile. “Two kisses?”
“You’re a wily wench.” He grabbed her finger to stop its circling. “Fine. One kiss.” He lifted her hand and gave the tip of her finger a quick peck.
She widened her eyes in disbelief. Then she closed them with diabolical purpose. Seizing the front of his plaid, she hauled him forward and smashed her mouth against his.
She meant it to be a crude act of vengeance.
But that didn’t last long.
Tasting him again revived her hunger. Had he been so delicious before? So savory? So mouthwatering?
Though he resisted at first, it was only a moment before he too began to feast on her lips.
Their labored breath coalesced. Their tongues entwined. Their bodies melted together.
Her senses responded quickly, knowing the path ahead. Passion’s hum rang in her ears. Even within their linen confines, her breasts tingled eagerly. And betwixt her thighs an aching thirst begged to be quenched.
She couldn’t wait. With fumbling fingers, she worked at the brooch of his plaid, sucking a sharp breath between her teeth when the point stabbed her thumb.
“Let me,” he whispered.
He placed her injured thumb in his mouth, suckling it gently as he unpinned his plaid. Something about his intimate gesture was alluring. And when he began swirling his tongue around her thumb, plunging it into the deepest recesses of his mouth, she felt faint.
By the time he cast aside his plaid, she was aroused to a fever pitch. And when she began scrabbling at his trews, his eyes glazed over with desire.