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

Chapter 28

Chapter 28

“Hew?” Logan threw back his hood.

Hew dropped the plaids. “Logan?” It was his brother, although a taller version since the last time he’d seen him more than a year ago.

Logan loped forward with an enormous grin. He caught Hew in a rib-crushing embrace. Then he pushed away to arm’s length to take a good look at him.

“So good to see you, brother,” Logan said. “You’re looking fit. Love does conquer all, aye?”

Before Hew could answer, he heard an unmistakable bellow.

“Dunlop!”

Aunt Deirdre? Was she here as well?

From behind his armful of plaids, Dunlop replied, “Deirdre?”

The clan cleared a path between the two lairds. Hew could see now the visitors were all from Rivenloch.

“Thank God ye’re here,” Dunlop said, handing the plaids off to a nearby clansman. “Ye’re just in time,” he rattled on. “We’re not sure whether to call the physician. Or if we’ve got enough plaids. Or—”

“What’s happened?” Deirdre demanded, as clear and efficient as always.

“’Tis my Carenza,” Dunlop said. “She’s goin’ to have the bairn.”

“Now?”

“Aye, and ’tis takin’ so long, I fear—”

“Is it?” Deirdre asked in concern. Then she turned to the nearest maidservant. “Is it taking so long?”

The maidservant’s eyes went wide. She’d likely never been questioned by a warrior maid. But Deirdre trusted her opinion more than a man’s. Women knew more about such things. The maidservant bit her lip, glancing uncertainly at Carenza’s father. Then she shook her head.

“Then there’s time,” Deirdre said. “Hallie?”

Hew’s cousin Hallie came forward and pulled a scroll out of her satchel. She handed it to Deirdre, who handed it to Dunlop.

“I need you to sign and seal this,” Deirdre said.

Dunlop frowned in confusion. “What is it? Can it not wait? This is no time for negotiations and contracts. As I’ve said, my daughter is in—”

“Aye, so you’ve said. And ’tis my nephew’s bairn, aye?”

“Aye.”

“Then I need you to sign and seal this.”

She unfurled the scroll then, and Hew’s breath caught as he recognized the document.

Dunlop raised himself to his full height, which was still just shy of Laird Deirdre. “With all due respect, m’laird, ’twill have to wait until—”

“Nay.” She showed him the document. “Now.”

Flustered by her bold challenge, Dunlop skimmed the parchment, then took it in trembling hands when he saw what it was. “Scribe!”

Hope swelled in Hew. Was their marriage going to be made real before the bairn arrived? That was his dearest wish for Carenza.

In the darkest part of his heart, he’d secretly feared God might punish him for his sin with the death of their child. Now at least that part of his dread might be vanquished.

The scribe arrived, bringing his quill, ink, wax, and the clan seal.

Logan sidled up and elbowed Hew with a grin. “A bairn already.” Then he leaned close to whisper, “So tell me again how this vow of chastity works.”

Before he could cuff Logan for his taunt, Hew’s arm was grabbed by his sister Jenefer.

She was furious. But marriage had moderated her temper. Instead of using fists and bellowing, she was biting out curses between clenched teeth and squeezing the blood out of his arm with her archer’s grip.

“What the devil were you thinking, you sarding cad?” she hissed. “I sat by while you dallied with half the village like a bloody rutting bull. I said nothing when you trysted with other men’s wives and tried to bed a nun, for God’s sake. A nun. But this, Hew. Lucifer’s ballocks. This is beyond even you. Seducing your cousin’s betrothed. A laird’s daughter. Getting her with child and abducting her to live in exile. And all that without even securing a legitimate marriage. How could you?”

No one could get Hew’s blood to boiling like his older sister. He was already on edge from the stress of the morn. And now his arm was tingling, and he couldn’t feel his fingers.

It would feel good to engage her in battle. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d settled their differences with blades. And a bit of violence might be just the thing he needed to get his mind off the turmoil upstairs.

“Do I need to defend my honor?” he bit out, skewering her with his gaze.

“Do you?” she bit back, burning into his eyes with a glare.

And then he took a breath.

Bloody hell. What was he doing? He didn’t need to defend anything. Every step of the way, he’d done what he thought was best. Carenza loved him. And she was upstairs, fighting the battle of her life. The last thing she needed to hear was the clash of swords below from her husband’s clan.

“Nay,” he decided with a sigh. “I do not.”

To his surprise, Jenefer backed down as well. Her eyes slowly turned from fire to molten wax. Her chin quivered. She released her grip and rubbed her hand along his arm in apology.

“I don’t want to fight you,” she admitted.

He smirked. “’Tis a good thing. You’ve drained all the strength from my arm.”

“Och, Hew,” she sighed, “I can’t wait to be an aunt.”

The document was signed and sealed. The laird of Dunlop handed it back to the laird of Rivenloch, who handed it to Hew.

“Your marriage is now official,” she said. “My grandchild will be a Rivenloch.”

She winked then, letting him know it meant more to her than that.

“Thank you both for your haste,” Hew said. Then he glanced around the hall. “Where is Sister Eve?” He wanted to thank her and tell her about the gown they’d left in the byre.

Deirdre replied with a long-suffering sigh. “That is a tale for another day, one that is not yet finished.”

Before he could wonder at her enigmatic words, his cousin Isabel crashed into him with a hug and a giggle.

“’Tis so romantic, Hew,” she gushed, “like a Viking of old, abducting his bride.”

“That’s not quite how—”

“And Lady Carenza, trapped at Darragh, pining for you for days and days.”

“’Twas only a sennight or so.”

But there was no stopping young Isabel, who loved turning a wee spring into a raging sea.

“I told you you’d find The One,” she said.

“You did.”

Suddenly, a maidservant emerged from the stairwell into the great hall. The room immediately hushed. The maidservant froze, blinking in confusion.

Hew’s heart was in his throat. Bracing himself for the worst, he finally dared to break the silence. “What news?” he croaked.

“Och,” the maidservant said, exhaling in relief. “Nothin’. Lady Carenza is fine. I only came downstairs to get a wee bite.”

After a collective sigh, the conversation in the great hall resumed.

Deirdre busied Dunlop with discussions of King Malcolm and the border and the English, which helped to keep his fears for his daughter at bay.

Logan caught Hew up on all the news from home, allaying his own worries.

Jenefer, Hallie, and Feiyan chatted with the Dunlop warriors, comparing weaponry and battle tactics.

Isabel nagged Hew for details about their romantic adventures. He finally told her some things were better left to the imagination.

The day dragged on and on. Food was brought out. Ale was poured. Some of the servants who had risen early for Martinmas napped along the wall and beside the fire.

Hallie wandered up to Hew. “How are you holding up, cousin?”

“I didn’t expect ’twould take so long,” he murmured.

“Nay?”

“I wish she didn’t have to suffer so.” He tapped the scroll against his thigh.

Hallie paused, frowning down at the document. “She doesn’t know about that, does she?”

“The marriage decree? Nay.”

She arched a brow. “I have an idea.”

She took the scroll from him and made her way across the hall and up the stairs.

Of course, he realized. Carenza might never admit it, but as someone who had been raised to be a perfect laird’s daughter, she was probably reluctant to give birth to a bastard child. Perhaps seeing the marriage decree, signed and sealed by the king, would relieve her conscience and make the birth easier.

Sure enough, when Hallie returned several moments later, it was with a brilliant smile.

“Sir Hew du Lac of Rivenloch,” she announced, “you have a daughter.”

The day dawned crisp and clear, with a fine coverlet of snow that reflected light into the crowded solar.

Carenza gazed at the Rivenloch clanfolk gathered around her and Hew—Laird Deirdre, Hallie, Jenefer, Feiyan, Logan, and Isabel—and felt as if she knew and loved them already. Hew had spent many hours in the byre retelling their stories. She couldn’t wait to visit Rivenloch and meet the rest.

“What are ye goin’ to call her?” Carenza’s father asked as he smiled fondly down at the wee bairn cradled in his arms.

Carenza exchanged a secret smile with Hew, whose eyes hadn’t stopped shining since she’d first shown him his daughter.

“We’re namin’ her Bethac.”

“Ah.” That was all her father could manage. He nodded, and Carenza saw his eyes fill with tears. But he was the Laird of Dunlop. Strong and stiff and stoic. So he cleared his throat and quickly handed Bethac off to her grandmother, Laird Deirdre. Then he mumbled, “I’ll make arrangements for the baptism,” before he rushed out the door.

“Bethac?” Laird Deirdre asked.

Hew replied, “’Twas the name of Carenza’s mother.”

Everyone nodded in approval.

“’Tis a good name for a warrior,” Deirdre teased, gazing down at Bethac with affection.

Hew asked her, “So what happened to Sister Eve? Why did the marriage contract take so long?”

“It seems while Sister Eve was attempting to get the marriage document sealed,” Deirdre said, “she ran into Adam—”

“Adam?” Hew asked.

Feiyan glanced at Carenza and clarified, “My brother.”

Carenza nodded. She already had Hew’s cousins memorized.

Deirdre continued. “They apparently had a series of rather wild misadventures, and Sister Eve landed in…some serious trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” Hew asked.

Deirdre shuddered. “I’ll leave that to them to explain. In any event, Adam managed to rescue her.”

Carenza was glad to hear that. As odd as Eve was, she liked the lass, and she still wanted to return that lovely gown to her.

“After that,” Deirdre said, “they procured the king’s signature and seal by some rather questionable means.”

Carenza furrowed her brows. Generally the royal seal was the last to go on a marriage decree. “But how did they get the king’s seal before my father’s?”

“Exactly,” Deirdre said. “In any event, they rushed to Rivenloch for my seal. And we were forced to rush to Dunlop to get your father’s.”

Carenza felt awful about making the Laird of Rivenloch go to all that trouble, until Deirdre bent over wee Bethac and cooed, “But ’twas all worth it, wasn’t it, my precious lass?”

Carenza added, “We’re so grateful ye came. I’m grateful all o’ ye came. I’ve so looked forward to meetin’ ye.”

Hew’s sister Jenefer leaned forward eagerly. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you as well, ever since I heard about your coo reiving.”

“Aye,” Feiyan said. “Is it true you were once a cateran?”

“Just for one night,” Carenza said. “And only one coo in particular.”

“Why?” Hallie asked.

“I raised Hamish from the time he was a calf, and I didn’t want him to be culled.”

By the expressions on the faces of the three cousins—Jenefer, Hallie, and Feiyan—they thought that was ridiculous. The warrior maids probably wouldn’t hesitate to cull a coo, any more than they’d hesitate to kill a foe.

But Laird Deirdre came to her defense. “You know, ’twas a coo, Audhumbla, that licked the first Viking god into being.”

“Aunt Deirdre,” Logan chided, “are you sure you should be speaking of Viking gods in front of Hew? He’s a monk now, you know.”

“Logan,” Hew growled.

“What was it like,” Logan taunted, “that vast sea of men and not a selkie in sight?”

“’Twas worth the sacrifice,” Hew told him, wrapping his arm around Carenza, “to end up with the most beautiful selkie of all.”

Isabel clasped her hands and sighed.

“Well, that explains it,” Feiyan said. “No wonder she had such a craving for pickled eels.”

Everyone laughed.

Suddenly, Hallie hissed, “Nobody move.”

Everyone froze with Rivenloch warrior precision.

Hallie had drawn her dagger, and was holding the blade, preparing to hurl it.

Then Carenza saw what was in her sights. “Nay!”

Hew reached out to halt Hallie’s arm.

“That’s a pet,” he explained as the wee hedgepig continued to waddle along the wall, making its way to the corner and ducking into the wee box it was using for a nest.

The three warrior cousins exchanged glances that told her what they thought of having a hedgepig for a pet.

But Hallie put away her dagger, and Isabel changed the subject.

“What’s this?” she asked, picking up Carenza’s bestiary.

“’Tis a book o’ all the beasts I’ve seen.”

Since her return to Dunlop, her father had seemed far more lenient, willing to let Carenza express herself. So she’d brought her bestiary out of hiding and spent spare hours painting some of the animals she encountered near Dunlop.

Isabel leafed through the pages of illustrations and text about squirrels, coos, hedgepigs, crows, butterflies, and dozens of other animals.

“Did you make this yourself?”

“Aye.”

“Wouldn’t Ian love this, Hallie?” Isabel said. “He has a book full of notes like this.”

Carenza decided she really wanted to meet Ian.

In the meantime, she had others she needed to thank.

“I still haven’t seen Sister Eve,” she said. “Does no one know where she is?”

“Nay,” Deirdre replied. “The last we saw of her was when she brought the wedding document to Rivenloch.”

“I might know something about Sister Eve,” Isabel teased, drawing her toe across the floor and smiling the way she did when she had a secret. “I’m not sure exactly where she is. But I know who she’s with. And I suspect by next year, we’ll all be going to a nun’s wedding.”

What that meant, Carenza couldn’t guess. All she knew was that she had never been happier.

She adored her quirky new clan.

She loved her precious new daughter.

And as for her fierce Viking warrior, fellow cateran, erstwhile monk, companion spy, devoted husband, and the proud father of the next generation of Dunlops and Rivenlochs, she believed Isabel was right. Hew du Lac of Rivenloch was The One.