Laird of Flint: A Forbidden Love Scottish Medieval Romance Adventure (The Warrior Lairds of Rivenloc

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Hew held her close to his throbbing heart.

“I love ye,” she mumbled against his chest.

That was how he knew Carenza was The One. What made her different from every other lass.

It was a sorry truth. One he’d only just realized. But no woman he’d ever courted had said those words so readily. It was always Hew who dove in head first. Hew who bared his heart. Hew who committed unreservedly to the relationship.

Indeed, he often frightened ladies off with the intensity of his devotion. As he’d learned often with lovemaking, women required time and patience. They were usually slower to arouse. And they never fell as fast or as far in love as he did. It seemed they preferred to dangle their hearts on a string, the way one teased a cat.

But Carenza had a passion and depth that matched his own. Though they’d known each other a short time, they’d fallen completely in love. And he didn’t want that love to end.

“I love you too,” he replied, snuggling her closer.

“I wish we could run away this instant.”

“Me as well.”

She turned her head to gaze up at him. “Do ye think your mother and father will like me?”

“They’ll love you.”

It was true. Even though she had none of his mother’s warrior skills, Helena would respect Carenza. She had inner strength and a wee bit of deviousness that his mother would appreciate. As for his father, Carenza’s charm and brilliance would win him over. Colin admired anyone with whom he could cross wits.

“Will your laird approve?” she asked.

“Aunt Deirdre? She’ll just be relieved you’re not English.”

“I want to meet them,” she decided.

“I want you to meet them.”

“When?”

He loved her eagerness. But he had to finish his mission.

“As soon as I catch the thief. Och, bloody hell!” he said, holding her at arm’s length as he suddenly remembered why he’d come to the physician’s quarters. “I didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

He glanced around the small chamber for the first time. It served as the physician’s apothecary. Most of it consisted of shelves lined with vials and jars, vessels of clay and wooden boxes, with labels identifying their contents. Dried flowers and herbs hung in one corner, and various desiccated frogs and fish dangled from another. Between them was squeezed a low, sagging pallet. Peris probably slept here to guard his precious potions.

“I need to search this room,” he said.

Her interest piqued, she raised her brows as she realized, “He’s at Kildunan.”

“He’s at Kildunan.”

She wasted no time. While he fastened up his trews, she began searching the shelves. “What are we lookin’ for?”

“Something. Anything.” He began searching the second set of shelves. “I have a feeling they’ve been stealing more than just church artifacts.”

“More? What more wealth could a monastery have?”

“I suspect he may be lifting jewels and coin off of the nobles who come to the infirmary.”

She frowned, considering that. “Ye mean the nobles who…who don’t survive?”

He nodded. He didn’t want to tell her the second part of his theory. That Peris might be hastening their demise.

But as he scoured the shelves, he also looked for substances that could kill quickly.

There were several deadly ingredients. Belladonna. Cyanide. Foxglove. Henbane. Mercury. Monk’s hood. Opium.

Of course, they were also used as medicines. Possession wasn’t proof. Still, if poisoning had occurred, it made Peris the most likely culprit.

They made a thorough search of the physician’s things. But they didn’t find anything to condemn him. He had very little in the way of wealth, though he had a small library of medical texts. His clothing was well-made and tidy. His boots were in good repair. But because of his profession, he eschewed jewelry. There seemed to be nothing incriminating among his effects.

“He could have hidden them elsewhere,” Carenza suggested.

“Aye, though it makes the most sense he’d hide them in a place kept under lock and key by day. The place he sleeps at night and can watch o’er them personally.”

“True.” She began pacing the small area between the shelves, rubbing thoughtfully at her chin. “Maybe he keeps them in his satchel.”

“’Tis a possibility.” Indeed, if he was using poison, that would surely be found within his satchel as well. “He always has it with him.”

“Right. So how can we search it?”

“I’ll find a way. I’ll return to the monastery and—”

“Nay,” she said, clutching at his sleeve. Then she gathered her brows. “I mean, must ye?”

Hew smiled. “The sooner we solve this,” he said, reaching out to caress her jaw, “the sooner we can be together…for aye.”

She sighed. “Then get out of here,” she said, pushing him away. “Go on. Shoo.”

He laughed.

Making sure everything was as they found it and their clothes properly fastened, they left and locked the chamber.

Carenza’s father was almost as sorry to see him leave as Carenza was. But Hew vowed he’d return within a sennight. A fortnight was too long to be away from his ladylove.

Carenza watched for him, but Peris didn’t return to Dunlop that night. She presumed that meant his patient was in critical condition and might not recover. But it also meant this might be an opportunity for robbery.

She wondered if Hew had found anything in his satchel.

The morn flew by. Noon came and went. The afternoon passed. Night fell.

The physician still hadn’t come home to Dunlop.

Had Hew found the store of treasure on his person and exposed him to the abbot?

Or was Peris waiting for a safe time to return?

After he missed supper, Carenza stayed awake, warming her toes by the fire in the great hall as the hour grew later and later.

She was just about to drift off when she heard the front door open. It was Peris.

Shaking herself awake, she scrambled to her feet and smoothed her skirts. Then she picked her way through the dozing clan folk to intercept him.

“Psst! Peris.”

He flinched once, but ignored her and kept on rushing toward his chamber.

Surprised, she hastened her pace. “Peris.”

He didn’t look up.

She knew he could hear her. Why wasn’t he responding?

He seemed terribly nervous, which made the hair stand up at the back of her neck. Was it true? Had he stolen valuables off of a corpse?

Determined to find out, she followed him as he left the great hall.

“Peris!” she called out as he rattled his key in the lock of his door.

That he couldn’t ignore. He licked his lips and turned the key. “Can it wait until the morrow, m’lady?”

When he turned to her, she could see tears standing in his eyes. Lines of worry and fatigue were etched in his forehead. Against her better judgment—after all, this was the man who’d almost poisoned the man she loved—her heart went out to him. She remembered he’d just come from the bedside of a dying man. And she remembered he’d looked exactly the same way on the day he told her father his wife was gone.

She asked him gently, “Did ye have a difficult day?”

“Aye,” he said, dropping his gaze to the ground.

“A death?”

He nodded.

“Would ye like to tell me about it?”

“I’d just like to get some sleep, m’lady, if ’tis all right with ye.”

She couldn’t argue with him. A physician’s life was chaotic. Late nights. Early morns. Births. Deaths. Impossible demands. Unreasonable expectations.

“O’ course.” She nodded her head in farewell. “Sleep well.”

He entered his chamber and locked the door behind him.

She grimaced. She’d lightly entertained the idea of sneaking into his room while he was asleep and rifling through his satchel. But that couldn’t happen now. And by the morrow, if he had absconded with any valuables, he would surely hide them before he emerged.

She let out an unhappy sigh as she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber. At this rate, it would be years before they solved the monastery thefts.

She couldn’t wait that long. It wasn’t that she cared so much about catching the thief. But every day wasted was a day she and Hew couldn’t be together.

She had to do something. Find a way to speed things along. If she couldn’t hurry along the investigation, perhaps she could expedite the courtship.

The weather conspired against Hew for several days. So much rain poured from the heavens, he began to grumble to the monks about the possibility of building an ark. Nearly another fortnight went by before the roads were passable and Hew could come up with a believable excuse to visit Dunlop again.

He claimed the laird had requested more honey. Since Dunlop frequently loaned their physician to Kildunan, the abbot repaid his services with honey collected and jarred by the monastery. So with his axe over one shoulder, a satchel of honey jars over the other, and a smile of anticipation on his lips, he made his way toward Dunlop.

Lady Carenza greeted him with a gaze of such adoration and yearning and eagerness, it would make a monk forswear his vow of chastity. Her face was bright with love and longing. Her smile twitched with secret promise. And he could see her racing pulse in the delicate skin of her delicious neck.

He ached to press a kiss to that spot. To pull her in and hold her close against his throbbing heart. To devour her mouth with all the hunger and passion he felt for her.

“Sir Hew!” The laird came down the steps, emerging in the great hall. “Ye’ve returned to us. But what have ye brought?”

He slipped the satchel off of his shoulder, rattling the jars. “Honey.”

“Marvelous. Kildunan’s honey is the ambrosia o’ the angels.” Then he turned to his daughter. “Carenza, will ye show Hew to the pantry so he can unburden himself?”

She gave him a polite smile and a nod. But Hew saw sparkling in her eyes and hastening of her breath that told him she was going to kiss him soundly as soon as they were alone.

So she did. He closed the door behind them. But the satchel of jars didn’t even make it onto a shelf. He managed to lower it gently to the floor as she rained kisses all over his face. Then he completely forgot about it as she scrabbled breathlessly at his clothes, slipping her hands under his leine and into his trews.

Never had he come to life so quickly. Never had he dived so deeply into the pool of desire. All sense left him except one urge—to couple with her.

She would have let him. He knew that.

He had to be the strong one. But it was so hard to be strong when he was…so hard.

Knowing that swiving wasn’t in their immediate future forced him to be creative.

He found an interesting use for one jar of Kildunan’s honey. It turned out the laird was right. It did taste like ambrosia of the angels. Especially when licked off the breast of the woman he loved.

In the days and weeks after, they continued to play their love games. He visited at least once a sennight, and they reveled in each other’s company.

They trysted everywhere. In the stable. In the buttery. Behind a holly bush. Against a fir tree. Under the moon. In the fog.

They celebrated their newfound romantic diversion. Experimenting with feathers. Fur. Mirrors. Scented oils. And handfuls of snow.

Still, more than anything, he wanted to be able to take Carenza’s hand in marriage. To forge their futures together. To offer her his whole self—body and soul.

But despite all his best efforts, he continued to be stymied in his hunt for the church treasures. Unless he could locate them, there was no provable crime. He’d begun to wonder if the abbot had stolen the artifacts himself and only hired Hew as a foil to cover his tracks.

Then one midwinter day, when the snow had driven everyone indoors, and they were desperate to find a place to be alone, Carenza dug an old iron key out of a small wooden box.

She bade him follow her—at a safe distance—to the buttery.

But they weren’t going to the buttery. The key fit the lock of a storage room located beside the buttery.

“’Tis where my mother’s things are stored,” she whispered. “My father locked them away when she died. And no one e’er goes in.”

He frowned. Maybe there was a reason no one went in. “Isn’t it…sacred?”

“Maybe to my father. But my mother lives in heaven, not on earth. They’re just things.”

He nodded. His ancestors took their things with them and lived in Valhalla, which sounded like a lot more fun than heaven.

She slipped the key into the lock. It opened easily enough. Then she pushed open the door. He winced, half expecting a loud screech to issue forth. But the hinges seemed to be well oiled. He wondered if maybe the room was visited more often than she thought.

This was the first time Carenza had seen the inside of the storage room. It contained everything that had belonged to her mother, crammed into a room half the size of a bedchamber. To her surprise, there was very little dust. The furnishings appeared as fresh as the day the door had been sealed. A pair of oak chests were draped with ornate tapestries and piled high with gowns of silk and velvet. A floor sconce with half-burned candles leaned against the wall. A wooden tub was filled to the brim with linens. A woolen arisaid partially covered a carved wood table which was topped by books and vials, combs and scissors, straw dolls and several pieces of her mother’s jewelry.

Then she gasped as her eye caught on something of hers. Her childhood bed. Apparently, even that had triggered painful memories for her father. The day after her mother died, her father had ordered a new bed made for Carenza. The one she still slept in today.

She wondered…

She neared the bed and studied the coverlet. It was embroidered with wee animals. Hedgepigs. Hounds. Mice. Kittens. Sparrows. Piglets. She’d forgotten all about it.

“This bed was mine,” she breathed.

Picking up the bottom corner of the coverlet to examine the stitching, he chuckled. “Of course ’twas.”

But for Carenza, the presence of the bed represented more than just fond memories. She reached down and carefully peeled the coverlet back from the top. The linens were clean. And there were no fleas.

For weeks now, she’d prayed for patience. She’d waited for the monastery crime to be solved. For Hew’s residence at Kildunan to be over.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love their inventive rendezvous. Like sparrows spreading seeds, they’d consecrated every corner of Dunlop with their love.

But the investigation could take years. It might never be solved. And Carenza was afraid if they waited too long, Hew would begin to think of her as his concubine rather than his bride.

It wasn’t that he didn’t love her. He adored her. But in the end, because he had to do as the king willed, he might be forced to marry another out of duty, believing he could keep Carenza as his secret mistress.

That would not do. She might not belong to an important border clan. But she was the daughter of Dunlop. She had a reputation to consider.

She decided perhaps she needed to hasten things along between them. And finding this bed among her mother’s things…

This must be a sign from her mother. A message. Her blessing on their union. Carenza was sure of it. And now she knew exactly what she must do.

This was unexplored territory for her. And despite the closeness and affection between them, she felt anxious. Her heart beat more rapidly than it should. And her breath was shallow and shaky.

What if he refused her? What if she did something wrong? What if he was disappointed? What if she wasn’t enough?

In the end, she decided it was a risk she had to take. She couldn’t go on living in this purgatory of indecision, not knowing whether her future was secured.

In spite of her nervously pounding heart, she chose to keep things light and playful as always.

“This will be so much more comfortable than the holly bushes.” She plopped down on the pallet.

“Or the buttery shelves,” he said, sitting gingerly beside her, less trusting of the bed frame.

“Or the stable wall.”

“Or the trunk of a tree.”

“Or the doocot.”

“The doocot?” He frowned. “We’ve ne’er trysted in the doocot.”

“Nay?” she asked. “Och, that must have been my other lover.”

“Wicked lass.”

His gaze narrowed in warning. Then he began punishing her with tickles. He found all of her sensitive places. Under her arms. Along her ribs. Beneath her ears. Behind her knees.

“Do you surrender?” he demanded.

She giggled and gasped and shook her head.

He resumed until she could endure no more.

“Nay! I yield!” she finally cried out. Then she fell back onto the bed in a dramatic surrender, with one arm across her forehead.

He ceased his attack and gazed down at her with amusement. “Are you hurt, my lady?”

“I fear ye have wounded me sorely, sir.”

“Then I must make amends.” His eyes took on a sultry glaze. “Show me where you’re injured. I shall kiss away your hurts.”

His words sent a thrill of excitement through her. She turned her head and pointed to the side of her neck.

“There?” he asked.

She nodded.

He lowered his head and pressed his lips to the place where her pulse raced.

She shivered as her ears hummed in response. Then she turned and bared the other side of her neck.

He kissed that side as well, sending an erotic vibration through her head.

“Here,” she said, indicating her underarm.

With feigned regret, he furrowed his brow. “I fear I must remove your garments for that.”

With feigned regret, she sighed. “If ye must.”

He slipped the leine down her shoulders and off of her arms, lowering the neckline until it hung low on her breasts. Then he nuzzled each nook of her arm to plant a kiss there, though it came dangerously close to tickling.

He paused to look askance at her. “Where else?”

Blushing, she brushed across her ribs with her fingers.

He dragged the leine down slowly. As he grazed her nipples, she felt them tighten with yearning. He bunched the linen at her waist and dipped his head to lavish kisses along her ribs. His soft hair brushed her breasts with tantalizing tenderness.

“Where else?” he asked.

She rolled onto her side and pointed to the back of her knees.

He raised the hem of her leine, revealing her calves.

“Here?” he murmured against her skin.

She moaned in answer.

He placed rows of kisses behind each knee, then rolled her onto her back again.

“Anywhere else?” he whispered.

She bit her lip.

Holding her gaze, he slipped his hand down between her legs to caress her through her skirts. “Here perhaps?”

She nodded.

He got a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’m fairly certain I didn’t tickle you here.”

She squeezed her eyes as he pressed gently against her.

“I’m fairly certain ye did,” she breathed.

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked, rubbing across her.

“Aye,” she said tightly.

“Very well then.”

He rooted under the hem of her leine and tossed the fabric back to expose her.

She felt his breath like a warm summer wind blowing across her sensitive flesh.

He opened the petals of her womanhood and lavished his generous apology upon the bud of her desire.

Lost in a haze of love and longing, she rolled her head across the pallet and bunched the bedlinens in her fists. When she could endure no more of his intense attentions, she arched up off the bed. Then her body erupted in spasms of joy.

Lying on the soft bed, satiated, she felt a lovely sort of apathy. They were safe here. Nobody would intrude. She was free to be herself, pure and brave and naked. That sense of shamelessness inspired her to remove all her clothing. She wanted him to see her as she was. Wanted to be an Eve to his Adam. Wanted to feel his flesh against hers.

At first he only watched her. When she was completely undressed, she spread her limbs before him like a heathen sacrifice. Like she was his for the taking.

He looked at her with such ardor and hunger, it made her feel faint. One glance below his belt told her he was nigh bursting with desire. Yet he held back, trying to stifle his animal instincts.

“I want to see ye,” she murmured.

His chest heaved as he gazed silently at her.

“Lie with me,” she said.

She could see a battle raging in his eyes.

She clarified. “Now that we have a real bed, I want to feel ye next to me. To feel your warm flesh against mine. To feel our hearts beatin’ together.”

He still looked wary.

She let her gaze fall to the male part of him, straining against his trews with fierce need.

She licked her lips and whispered, “If ye like, we can lie together, and I can use my hand.”

The silver flash of passion in his eyes was answer enough. He unbuckled his belt. Kicked off his boots, Stripped off his clothes. And when he wrested out of his braies, his cock—big and bold and brazen—almost gave her pause.

Was she sure she was ready for this?

But there was no time to reconsider. In the next moment, he stretched out beside her on the pallet. And though they hadn’t yet made contact, she could feel the heat of his need like the glow coming off of a blacksmith’s forge.

Suddenly he loomed large and imposing. She felt overwhelmed and overpowered. Despite his gentle, caring nature, being this close to his naked body reminded her that he was a fierce and dangerous warrior with Viking blood and shoulders like an ox.

What if he became angry with her?

But in the next instant, she forgot her fears. He draped one leg over hers and drew her close, taking her into the circle of his arms and cradling her against his chest. Strength and warmth and energy emanated from him as he surrounded her in his protective love.

He must have felt their combined potency too. He moved his hands over her, groaning at the sweet friction between them.

With bold purpose, she sought out his staff with her hand, wrapping her fingers around the firm column.

He gasped in awe.

But again she wondered if she’d made a mistake. He seemed impossibly big. What if she injured herself?

He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, using his tongue to make her palm wet and slick.

She found him again and began to move her hand in the rhythm he’d taught her.

He growled with pleasure and dug his fingers into her buttocks, pressing her hips toward his until they were flesh to flesh. There was just enough room for her hand to squeeze between them. Yet it still didn’t feel close enough.

As she sensed the changes in him—his focused expression, his quickened breathing, his tightened muscles—she decided it was time.

She wrapped one leg over him and turned him onto his back, straddling his hips.

He stiffened in surprise and threw up his hands. But when she continued to stroke him and began rocking herself against his hips, he melted back into a sensuous languor.

She too found pleasure at the pressure of his body upon hers. She began climbing the mountain of erotic delight. The higher she climbed, the less control she had. Soon she was bucking and arching, searching for the right movement that would catapult her to the top.

And as she ascended, so too did Hew. His face was strained. His fists were as white as the bedlinens he clutched. As his cock thrust within her hand, his hips crashed into hers.

Finally, when her passions were stirred to a fever pitch and she sensed he was about to explode, she rose on her knees and aimed his dagger of flesh toward her womanly sheath. With urgent haste, she lowered herself onto him.

There was a wee pinch, less painful than a bee sting, and then a throbbing fullness.

He cried out, half in ecstasy, half in dismay.

Then he froze. A look of horror and disbelief crossed his face. A look that made her panic. Had she been wrong to do it? Did he think she was a shameless wanton? Did he despise her now?

Unable to endure his judgment, but unwilling to stop now, she closed her eyes and resumed her movements. He didn’t resist. Soon the feeling of invasion became one of union as they strove together toward a common goal.

Whatever Hew thought of her, his body at least was delighted. He squeezed her buttocks as he thrust inside her over and over, and she rode him like a galloping steed, ascending that hill of desire once again.

When she reached the top, he stiffened at the same time. As waves of release crashed down upon her, he pulled out of her, pulsing and spilling his seed over his own belly.

Hew felt ashamed. And villainous. And spineless.

It had always been up to him to make sure he never harmed Carenza.

After all, she wasn’t experienced. And he was.

Now he’d violated her trust. Compromised her virtue. Taken advantage of her in a moment of weakness.

There was no excuse for it. No apology that would suffice for what he’d stolen. No amends that would restore her virginity.

Still, he was a man of honor. He had to make the attempt.

Unable to look her in the eye, he murmured, “I’m so sorry, my lady. I ne’er meant to hurt you. I know better. I shouldn’t have begun this. I should have had more patience. ’Tis all my fault. Will you e’er forgive me?”

“What?”

The odd tone of her voice drew his eye.

Carenza wasn’t hurt. Or sad. Or distressed.

She was confused. “What is all your fault?”

He spread his hands to indicate their situation. “This.”

She scoffed. “This is your fault?”

“Of course.” These things were always the man’s fault. Husbands never came after their wives when they were cuckolded. They came after the other man.

“But…I invited ye to this chamber, aye?”

“Aye.”

“And I asked ye to lie naked with me?”

“You did.”

“And who is loomin’ o’er ye right now like a bloody conquerin’ hero?”

He smirked. He could see her point. But he didn’t have to agree with it.

“’Tis a matter of honor,” he explained. “I should have prevented you. A man can’t expect a woman to control her sexual impulses. ’Tis up to the man to…” He stopped, because she was giving him the most curious smile. “What?”

“It seems to me ye’re the one lyin’ in a pool o’,” she said, glancing down at the mess he’d made, “sexual impulses.”

That was a bit unfair. Indeed, he’d managed to curtail his sexual impulses at the last moment and pulled out before he could risk planting a bairn in her. Not all men would be so careful.

“Nonetheless,” he said, “I apologize for neglecting my responsibilities. I can’t undo what’s been done. But I can assure you it won’t happen again.”

“It had better happen again,” she said with a frown, “because there’s somethin’ ye should know.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, which only made them look plumper and more tempting. “This was my idea. All my idea. I wanted this to happen. I meant for it to happen.” She lifted her chin proudly. “I’m weary o’ waitin’ for criminals and kings and monks to steer my fate.” She shrugged. “So did I seize the reins and ride away on a wild horse? Aye. Maybe. But ’twas my choice. And I’d do it again. I will do it again. Many, many…many times.”

Hew couldn’t help but be moved. Carenza looked like a goddess, sitting astride him as if she rode into battle. Brave and beautiful and determined. Full of righteousness and rebellion. She might not be a warrior maid. But in this moment, he believed she had the strength of ten men.

Still, he wasn’t convinced. No matter how tempting the thought of making love to her “many, many, many times” was, in their world it would brand her a wanton. That he wouldn’t abide. He scowled and opened his mouth to counter her.

But she wasn’t finished with her diatribe. And she wouldn’t let him get a word in.

“We love each other, aye?”

He nodded.

“And we’re married where it counts. In our hearts.” She placed her hand over his chest, where that utterly smitten heart pounded. “Whate’er we do with our bodies must be right and pure, because we love each other.”

She wove her words like a net around him. Lulling him. Luring him in. Trapping him.

He knew she was wrong. Things were never that simple. But he was already caught. And he had to admit he was not unhappy to be entangled in the net of her affections.

“Findin’ this bed here…” She shook her head in wonder. “’Tis as if my mother herself has given me her blessin’.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

Hew had other ideas about that. The pallet was horribly uncomfortable. If he hadn’t been distracted by the lovely maid riding him, he would have moved to the floor.

“Because I’ve ne’er had a pallet poke me in the backside with such enthusiasm.”

“What?”

“It feels like ’tis stuffed with sticks and stones.”

“’Tis stuffed with goose feathers.”

“Are you sure they plucked them off the geese?”

She moved off of him. “Let me see.”

He got up from the bed and made use of a linen square from the tub to clean up.

She settled onto the pallet and began rolling back and forth.

“Och!” she said, arching up as something prodded her in the back. “What is that?”

She knelt by the bed then and began exploring the contours of the pallet with her hands.

“I think there’s somethin’ in here.”

He knelt beside her and felt the same contours. “Or under it.”

He slipped his hands under the pallet and lifted it up off the knotted frame.

She gasped.