Chapter 26
Chapter 26
Summer
Carenza cast a last handful of grain to the three hens scratching in front of the byre she’d begun to think of as home.
Nearby, Hew sat on a stump, weaving wattle by the morning light, making more panels to protect them from the elements.
In a way, it was home. This was the sagging byre with rotten timbers and a mossy roof where she and Hew had come long ago during the thunderstorm. The unexpected shelter at the edge of a forgotten jewel of a glen in the middle of the lush Dunlop woods. They’d made it their love nest that day.
Now it was a temporary refuge.
Remote enough to ensure their safety.
Close enough to her father’s castle if anything should go wrong.
It also served once more as a cozy trysting place when, as Hew liked to jest, they wished to “relive their carefree youth.”
In the several weeks since they’d hidden here, they’d swept out the byre and repaired the gaps with rough woven wattle, covering it all with camouflaging branches. They’d furnished their makeshift cottage with stumps and reed mats. Made a soft pallet of moss. Built shelves for the hens to roost in at night and hung fragrant herbs to dry in the corners.
Every day, Carenza collected the hens’ eggs, picked greens and berries from the forest, and fished for trout in the nearby stream. When they needed other supplies, Hew crept out at night to the homes of nearby crofters, leaving behind ample coin for the clothing, food, and tools he gleaned.He’d brought home embroidery thread, and Carenza had embroidered the leine she’d promised him with flames around the wrists.
She’d never imagined she could be so happy, living in rags in a ruined byre. But after the father married them, she would have followed Hew anywhere. And the fact he’d led her back to a familiar place where she’d be close to her clan—and the animals she loved—meant the world to her.
They still had to conceal their whereabouts, of course. After Hew left Darragh, he’d immediately written—to the Rivenloch clan, to Gellir, to her father—assuring everyone Carenza was safe and telling them she’d been happily reunited with her lover.
But no one knew the identity of that lover. Hew’s whereabouts were unknown, and by all accounts, he’d still broken the law. Any of the parties, including the parents and the king, might reasonably demand satisfaction and exact retribution for Hew’s devilry.
So they hid together in the least likely place. Right under her father’s nose.
Despite their proximity to Dunlop, clan news was hard to come by since they couldn’t interact with anyone. Everyone knew Carenza, so she didn’t dare stray from the byre. And a warrior of Hew’s size would be memorable, even in disguise, so he had to keep to the shadows.
It was hard not to grow impatient for the end of their exile.But they had to wait until Sister Eve arrived. She was the only person who knew where they were. The only person who could let them know when it was safe for them to emerge.
“Do ye expect we’ll hear from the sister soon?” Carenza asked, dusting the grain from her hands and rubbing a palm absently over her swelling belly.
“I hope so,” Hew said as he twisted the branches together. “’Tis been weeks.”
“Maybe she lost her way.” The byre was quite secluded.
“I doubt it. Sister Eve could find her way out of a labyrinth.”
“Ye don’t think somethin’ bad has—”
Their conversation was cut short by a distant rustling from the woods, growing closer.
They responded with practiced haste.
Hew knocked over the stump, sheathed his knife, and shoved the wattle panel into a gap in the byre.
Carenza spread the grain about with her foot, startling the hens, and unhooked the pair of fresh trout she’d strung up at the entrance of the byre.
The brush-rattling grew louder.
With a swift glance to be sure they’d retrieved everything, they ducked in to the byre. Carenza slid the wattle panel across the doorway. Hew pulled down the concealing branches.
Then they waited.
Carenza held her breath as the tramping abruptly stopped.
Someone hissed loudly from across the glen. “Psst! Hew!”
Hew peered through the gap in the wattle.
“’Tis her,” he whispered, sliding back the door panel.
Carenza hardly recognized the nun as she came racing breathlessly across the glen.
She wasn’t wearing her habit. Instead, she wore a rather sumptuous gown of crimson velvet, as fine as any Carenza had ever owned.
Her chestnut hair was long and loose and lush, hardly a short-cropped holy tonsure.
And nothing of the calm, cool, collected nun was visible in her manner as she charged toward the byre.
“I…don’t have…much time…” she panted as she slid to a halt, scattering hens in her wake.
Not much time? She hadn’t seen Sister Eve since the night they’d left the convent. And Carenza had so many questions. Not only about what had happened to Sister Eve’s habit, but…everything.
What had become of Gellir? And her father? And the maidservant Merraid?
Had the Rivenloch clan returned home?
What was the disposition of the king?
Was it safe to leave the byre now?
Sister Eve was the only one who could tell them.
Eve glanced nervously over her shoulder. “May I come inside?”
Carenza welcomed her in.
Eve perused the interior and gave an impressed whistle. “Not bad.”
Carenza smiled. It might not be a castle. But it was far nicer than any rotting byre deserved to be.
Hew dragged up tree stumps for the ladies and poured a cup of water for Eve, who was still casting an occasional glance toward the covered doorway.
“Were you followed?” he asked.
She shook her head and took a sip of water. “Not by anyone lookin’ for ye.”
Carenza wondered who would be pursuing a nun. Maybe the abbess?
“Ye seem hale,” Eve noted with a twinkle in her eye, swiftly changing the subject. “Motherhood looks good on ye.”
Carenza blushed. She was still getting accustomed to this new and fascinating Sister Eve.
Eve drained the cup and handed it back to Hew.
“First things first.” Eve came to her feet, arching a brow at Carenza. “I don’t suppose ye have that habit I loaned ye?”
“The nun’s habit?” Carenza said. “I do. ’Tis right where I packed it that night.”
She went to the satchel that slouched beside the hens’ roost and pulled out the folded bundle of gray linen. But when she handed it to Eve, several pieces of parchment slipped out, scattering on the ground.
Her breath caught. She’d forgotten all about Gellir’s verses. She certainly hadn’t meant for Hew to ever see them. She hadn’t even meant to keep them. She’d only meant to remove all the incriminating evidence from Darragh.
Mortified, she blushed as she hurriedly scooped them up.
“What are those?” Hew asked.
Eve immediately sensed her discomfiture. “Och, those are likely mine. I’m always tuckin’ scripture into my habits.” She held out her hand to take the pages from Carenza.
Carenza shot her a glance of gratitude.
“Do ye mind if I change while we talk?” Eve asked.
Hew, whose patience would soon run thin, glowered. “Fine. I just need news from home.” He turned his back so she could undress. “Gellir got my message after the wedding, aye? He knows I took the fall for Carenza’s disappearance? He knows he’s free from blame, right?”
“Och, ’twasn’t so simple as that,” she said, untying the silk rope girdle around her hips. “It seems ye and Gellir had the same plan.”
“What?” Hew barked. “What did he do?”
“He ran off and left a missive sayin’ ’twas he who broke off the betrothal with Carenza.”
Carenza gasped. Why would he do that?
“He claimed he wasn’t ready to take a wife,” Eve continued as she pulled the velvet surcoat over her head. “He said he wished to sow his oats a while longer.”
Hew grunted in disbelief.
She tossed the surcoat across the stump, which unfortunately scattered the pages again.
So Carenza hastily gathered them up once more. All but one. One of them landed at Hew’s feet.
He picked it up and looked at the page.
She froze.
Not noticing, Eve carried on, changing out of her crisp white leine into the drab nun’s garment. “He said when Carenza ran away in tears, he sent Sir Hew to retrieve her.”
“What?” Hew snapped, momentarily distracted from the page.
“He took the blame,” Eve said, “and made ye the hero.”
“But that’s not right,” Hew insisted. “I was to take the blame. To make him the hero.”
“I see.” Carenza spoke the sad truth. “Gellir tried to save our honor.”
“Wait, both o’ ye,” Eve said. “Ye’ve not heard the whole story.”
Hew didn’t know if he wanted to hear any more. How could things have gone so horribly wrong? Hew was supposed to have preserved Gellir’s reputation. But now Gellir had destroyed his own good name, just to save Hew from blame. Bloody hell. Sometimes his cousin’s sense of chivalry and self-sacrifice was excruciating.
“Meanwhile,” Eve continued, donning her scapular, “the king has returned to Perth.”
Hew straightened. “The king?” That could mean more trouble. While the king was in Toulouse, Hew was relatively safe. But if he’d already landed on Scottish soil…
Eve nodded. “O’ course, some o’ the lairds were not so ready to welcome Malcolm.” That was likely an understatement. The lairds had been at odds with Malcolm since his friendship with the English king. “So there was a siege.”
“A siege at Perth?”
“Aye,” she said. “And your brave cousin?”
Hew shuddered. If he knew Gellir… “Tell me he didn’t join the fighting.”
“He did.” She placed the veil over her head, tucking her hair under the edges of the cloth. “He couldn’t leave the king undefended.”
Hew let out a sigh. “Shite.”
The last thing his cousin should have risked was getting caught in the battle between his king and his countrymen. But of course that’s exactly what Gellir had done.
“I hope he’s all right,” Carenza said plaintively.
Hew heard the concern in her voice.
Though she’d been Gellir’s betrothed, Carenza claimed she’d never been in love with Gellir. She said he was good and kind, noble and valiant. But he wondered. Did she regret leaving him now? Now that they were forced to hide in a dark, dank cavern of a byre without proper food or clothing or even a marriage bed? Did she ever wish she’d wed Gellir instead of him?
He glanced again at the page. It appeared to be some sort of verse. Love verse. What would a nun be doing with love verse?
“What is this?” he asked, holding it aloft.
“I told ye—” Eve began.
“Nay!” Carenza interjected. Her voice wavered as she said, “I can’t lie to him, Sister.” She came to him then and placed a hand on his forearm. “I can’t lie to ye, Hew.” She lowered her eyes, looking as if she was begging for forgiveness. His heart sank as he wondered what terrible sin she’d committed.
“That is verse that Gellir wrote for me when we were courtin’,” she said. “It means naught to me. I swear it. I only took it from the castle so there would be no written record of his humiliation. No evidence left to shame him. And I didn’t have the heart to burn such earnest and clever verse.”
“Gellir?” Hew blinked. Clever verse? From his cousin? The idea was ludicrous. He snickered.
That reaction was clearly the wrong one. Carenza looked shocked and appalled.
He explained. “I hate to disappoint you, but these are not Gellir’s words.”
“What? O’ course they are.”
“Nay.” He was sure of it. “My cousin has no talent for verse.”
“Is this not his hand?”
“Maybe. But they’re not his words.”
“But he sent them to me,” she said.
“Through a servant?”
“Aye, but…” She looked uncertain. “If he didn’t send them, who did?”
From behind them, Eve let out a charmed giggle that made them both turn around. Thankfully she was fully dressed. “I think I may know.” She skimmed the other pages, nodding as if verifying her theory. “By the way,” she said, casually fluttering her hand, “Gellir is fine. More than fine.” She looked up from the pages. “Ye see, at the siege, Gellir had an unlikely rescuer. A warrior maid.”
“His sister Feiyan?” Hew guessed. “Laird Deirdre?”
Eve grinned. “His maidservant.”
Carenza’s jaw dropped in wonder. “Not Merraid?”
“Och aye. The wee lass not only fought at Gellir’s back, she earned the respect o’ King Malcolm himself.” Eve began bundling up her discarded clothing. “The king gave her an audience, and somehow, with the help o’ the Pope’s emissary, peace was brokered between the king and the lairds.”
Hew furrowed his brows. What was the Pope’s emissary doing in Scotland?
“But the best part?” Eve teased. “When the king wished to reward Gellir for his loyalty, Gellir asked him to bestow a knighthood upon Merraid.”
Carenza gasped. “And did he?”
Eve nodded.
Hew let out a low whistle. That kind of noble gesture was the stuff of legends.
“Merraid must be elated,” Carenza said. “’Tis all she’s e’er wanted.”
“Och, that’s not all she’s e’er wanted,” Eve said. “Since Merraid had just been dubbed a noble knight, Gellir asked permission from Laird Deirdre and King Malcolm…” She paused to wiggle her brows. “To marry her.”
For a moment, neither he nor Carenza could speak.
When they finally found their voices, they both spoke at once.
“Gellir and Merraid?”
“Merraid and Gellir?”
And then Hew recalled when he’d left Gellir imprisoned in the armory, he’d been shackled to the redheaded maidservant. He hadn’t had time to ask why.
Eve laughed in delight. “So ye see, ye’ve all come to happy endin’s.” She ruffled the pages in her hand. “And I’d wager the alms o’ St. Andrews, ’twas Merraid herself who wrote these verses on Gellir’s behalf.”
“A maidservant writing verse?” Hew scoffed. “And why do that if she was in love with Gellir?”
Eve shrugged. “She probably didn’t think she had a chance at him herself. But if she cared for him, she wanted him to be happy.”
Carenza clapped a hand to her heart and let out a sigh.
“The words were written from the heart,” she said wistfully. “Just not for me. How difficult it must have been for Merraid to be kind to me all that time when I was betrothed to the man she loved.”
Hew knew just how she felt.
“We have to save these verses,” she decided. “They truly are wonderful. ’Twould be a shame to lose them.” Then her eyes lit up as she turned to him. “Perhaps one day we can return them to Gellir and Merraid ourselves, Hew.”
He felt the weight of sorrow crush his shoulders. Eve had said they’d all come to happy endings. But that wasn’t quite true. He and Carenza were still fugitives.
“’Tis not yet safe for us,” he said gently. “The king—”
“Och, Eve!” Eve chastised herself. “Ye left out the best part again.” She clasped prayer hands under her chin and smiled. “Merraid made sure ye and Hew would be forgiven for fleein’.”
Carenza and Eve cheered in celebration.
Hew furrowed his brows. “That’s good news. But I’m not sure it changes much. We might be forgiven for fleeing. But fleeing isn’t the same as defying our lairds and king by marrying without permission.”
Sister Eve flapped her hand at him in unconcern. “I’m sure ’twill be fine. The king’s a romantic, after all.”
But Hew knew affairs were seldom easily solved where royal decrees were involved. At the moment, all he and Carenza had was the wedding document they’d been provided. Not even clan marks were attached to give it authority.
He didn’t wish to dampen their spirits. Eve had come to his aid when he needed her most.
But he questioned how much he should rely on her judgment as to safety in matters of life and death, considering a few things he knew about the nun.
For one thing, she seemed to be Sister Eve only when it suited her.
She somehow had an endless supply of clothing and seldom wanted for coin.
For a woman on her own, she traveled fearlessly far and wide.
And he had to wonder why she’d arrived in a sumptuous velvet gown and was fleeing again in a humble nun’s habit, rushing off as if the Devil were after her.
But he didn’t want to ask too many questions and risk offending her.
Instead he said, “I’m sure you’re right. But I’d feel safer if we had the clan seals and royal approval on the wedding decree.”
Eve shrugged. “Done. Do ye have the document?”
He fetched it from his satchel.
She took the scroll, lifted up her scapular, and stuffed it down the front of her leine.
Before he could utter another word and while Carenza’s jaw still hung open, Eve whirled and headed for the door.
“You’re leaving already?” he asked. Her hasty departure was highly suspicious.
“Aye.”
“But you’re coming back?”
“O’ course.”
“But your gown,” Carenza said.
Eve took a considerate glance at the precious garment. “Hold onto it for me, will ye?”
Then, before Carenza could even close her gaping mouth, Eve peeked out the door and slipped out, continuing on her way, scurrying rapidly across the glen.
To Hew’s surprise, Carenza was first to bring up doubts about their guest.
“How well do ye know Sister Eve?” she asked.
He didn’t want to tell her how close he’d come to swiving Eve when he hadn’t realized she was a nun. “Not terribly well.”
“Do ye trust her?”
“To be honest, not completely.”
“I know, aye? Where did she get such an expensive gown?” she asked, stroking the soft velvet as if it were a pet. “There was definitely someone chasing her.”
Hew nodded. “I don’t think she’d hurt a fly. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”
“And she’s a nun.”
“Right.” Hew didn’t want to have that complex discussion right now. “But I’m not sure she always has her facts right.”
“I’m glad she’s goin’ to get the permissions.” She looked up at him with creased brows, as if she didn’t want to disappoint him. “I know ’tis miserable for ye, living alone in the woods with only birds and squirrels for company. But I’d rather live here with ye till I’m old and gray than come out o’ hidin’ too soon and risk losin’ ye.”
Hew’s heart melted at her touching words. If she realized how much he’d enjoyed sharing this laborious but rewarding adventure with her, she wouldn’t have apologized. Mostly he was relieved he didn’t have to be the one to dampen their plans to return to Dunlop.
“I love it here,” he said. “You know that, aye?”
Her face blossomed into a pleased smile, as sunny as the primroses blooming in the glen.
“The fresh air,” he said, stepping close to caress her cheek. “The peaceful woods.” He wound a lock of her beautiful chestnut hair around his callused finger. “Sparrow song. Morning dew.” He tugged gently on her curl, bringing her close. “Sleeping when we’re weary,” he murmured. “Waking whene’er we wish.” He lowered his gaze to her delectable lips. “Trysting when the mood…”
He never finished the thought.
Carenza finished it for him.