Chapter 16
While Carenza freshened up in the solar, she considered the identity of the second thief.
Reason said it had to be someone Peris knew well at the monastery. Someone he’d known for a long time. Someone he trusted.
That ruled out the oblates and novices.
It also ruled out Father James, whom the thief had mentioned was taking too keen an interest.
That left the abbot, the prior, and the few dozen older monks who resided there.
Peris had been Dunlop’s physician for as long as she could remember. Her father, hearing he was the best in the land, had summoned Peris when her mother had first become ill. But though his medicines and methods had been expert and thorough, she flagged under his care and eventually succumbed.
Still, her father had been grateful for his efforts. Peris had been the resident physician at Dunlop ever since. Aye, he had a sour, impatient nature. She attributed that to working with the ill and dying all the time. But he’d served the clan—and the monastery—with skill and devotion.
All she had to do was remind him of that loyalty.
Of the great good he’d done in his lifetime.
Once flattered, he’d naturally be too humble to take all the credit.
He’d share it with those who had helped him.
His closest companions. His most loyal allies.
His oldest friends at the monastery. Theirs were the names she needed.
When she emerged in the great hall, the servants were already up, shooing the layabeds out of their way as they stoked the fire and brought in bread from the kitchens. And to her surprise, taking a cup of ale from a blushing kitchen wench with his unbandaged hand was Sir Hew.
She furrowed her brows. What was he doing up and about? He should rest. He should heal. And he should get out of her way.
“Carenza, my dear,” her father murmured as he approached. “Ye’re frownin’.”
She pressed fingers to her forehead. “Am I?”
He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Also, I fear ye have rats in your chamber.”
She froze.
He added, “I’ll have to summon the rat-catcher from the village.”
Thinking fast, she said, “I’ll do it on the morrow, Da. I have to go to the village anyway.”
She had no intention of summoning the rat-catcher. But once her father was back in his own bed—an event that appeared to be imminent, if Hew’s appearance in the great hall was any indication—she was sure he’d completely forget the matter.
“Fine.” He glanced around the hall. “Och. I see our warrior friend is already up and about. He seems to have flourished under your tender care.”
Had he flourished? Or had he forced his way out of bed out of pure stubbornness, just to keep an eye on her? She was beginning to think Peris was right. The Rivenloch warrior was meddlesome.
Before she could stop him, her father called out to Hew. Hew raised his cup in greeting and came toward them.
“I’m surprised to see ye recoverin’ so well,” the laird said.
Hew nodded. “Thanks to your generosity, m’laird, and some expert care.” His gaze was warm as it slipped over to her.
“Indeed,” her father said with a knowing smile.
Carenza found herself immediately furious again. How dare Hew feign affection for her—in front of her father, no less—when he clearly had no intention of following up or making any serious overtures toward her?
Her jaw was tight as she smiled and intentionally misunderstood him. “Oh aye, Peris is the best physician in Dunlop.”
“Och, Carenza,” her father chided, “ye know very well—”
“And here he is now,” she interjected, grabbing Peris’s arm as he passed. “We were just talkin’ about your expert care o’ Sir Hew.”
Peris looked rattled. Anxious. And exhausted. Clearly, the last thing he wanted to do was talk. Especially not to the meddlesome man he’d tried to poison.
“Ye shouldn’t be out o’ bed,” he grunted at Hew.
Whether he was referring to Hew’s health or his meddling, Carenza wasn’t sure.
“I feel fine,” Hew said.
“That’s the opium.”
“I stopped taking it.”
A look of disapproval crossed Peris’s face. Still, he was a physician with a physician’s concerns. “Must hurt like the devil.”
“’Tisn’t so bad,” He gave Peris a wink. “Not as bad as having your heart broken.”
Carenza almost groaned at that. The magnificent warrior had probably left dozens of heartbroken maids in his wake. But he’d surely never been the victim of a broken heart.
Her father, however, had.
“That,” the laird agreed, growing suddenly solemn, “is the worst pain of all.”
Carenza felt horrid for forgetting her father’s suffering. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “And we’ll all pray for her today, Da.” Then she turned to Peris. “Ye’ll come as well, aye?”
He grunted in reply.
“If ’tis all right,” she said to Peris, “once we’re there, I’d like to talk with ye about…my mother.”
She could immediately feel the tension in Hew. Like a wildcat about to spring.
His voice, however, reflected none of it. “Where is the graveyard?”
“Och,” she said, knitting her brows with false regret, “’tis too far to go in your condition, I fear. But don’t fret. We’ll be sure to pray for the souls o’ your clan as well. Won’t we, Da?”
“O’ course.”
Fury flickered in Hew’s flinty eyes. Fury and just a hint of reluctant admiration. He nodded his head, accepting his defeat.
Unfortunately, her father had an idea. “But…ye can ride a horse, aye?”
“Not well, with this hand, but serviceably enough, I suppose.”
Her father decided, “Ye’ll ride Carenza’s palfrey then.”
Carenza blinked. She wanted to scream. But laird’s daughters didn’t scream. They didn’t even frown. And they definitely didn’t complain when their father wanted to loan their palfrey to a distinguished guest.
Still, she almost choked on the smug look Hew gave her. She seized the cup from a passing servant’s tray and buried her rage in a swig of ale.
The trek to the graveyard was delayed by a violent thunderstorm. Hew couldn’t help but wonder if Carenza had summoned it to foil his plans. Lightning crackled overhead. Rumbling followed soon after. Fat drops of rain bounced off the courtyard grass. The clanfolk huddled in the great hall.
Meanwhile, Carenza’s duty appeared to be comforting the young children frightened by the roar of the storm. She hugged them. Told them stories. And let them sit on her lap. But Hew could see tension in her mouth. She too seemed anxious. Who was there to reassure her?
It was a calling Hew couldn’t resist. When she took a break in her storytelling, he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Are you all right, my lady?”
For an instant, he glimpsed raw fear in her eyes. In the next, it was gone.
“I’m fine.”
“You need not fear the lightning,” he murmured. “You’re safe in here.”
“I am. Aye.” Her chin quivered once before she stilled it. “But what about the animals?”
Was that what she was worried about? The animals?
His shoulders softened. What a selfless and tenderhearted woman she was. What a rare and precious quality. He supposed he should have known. After all, who would go to such lengths to save a coo from slaughter?
“Don’t worry about them,” he said. “They seem to know how to stay out of harm’s way.” Then he tipped his head to whisper, “Otherwise, you’d see dozens of charred sheep by the side of the road after a storm.”
One side of her mouth quirked up at that.
“Blackened ducks by the roadside,” he added.
The other side curved up.
“And roast pigs ready for the table,” he said.
She gave him a full smile then. A smile so brilliant and warm that he almost couldn’t resist bending near and capturing her lips with his own.
But he had to resist. He had to bank the burning coals of his affection. Take his time. Temper his passion. He couldn’t afford to make mistakes. The last thing he wanted was to drive her away by scorching her in the fiery blaze of his feelings.
So he mumbled, “I’m sure Hamish is fine.” He gave her a nod of farewell before going to douse the flames of his desire with a second cup of ale.
Eventually, the weather cleared. The clouds shredded apart like wool, leaving patches of clear blue. The earth smelled ripe and mossy and fertile. And a few brave birds chirped defiantly from the woods.
The afternoon ride to the graveyard wasn’t so bad.
The church was to the west, an hour’s walk away.
Carenza’s palfrey was mild and easy to handle, even with one hand.
Hew maintained a slow pace, riding behind most of the clanfolk, who traveled on foot.
They carried offerings of bread, as well as candles, which they would light in the churchyard to help guide any lost souls and use later to guide themselves home.
Carenza and her father led the procession. The physician positioned himself in the middle, far from them and far from him. He clearly wasn’t interested in any interrogation today. Which made it even more critical that Hew keep Carenza from prying.
He expected, like a child with a clam, she would poke and prod and annoy Peris rather than gleaning any useful information. And her prodding would make him close his shell even tighter.
So Hew determined to stay close to her. He could draw her attention away if she became too inquisitive. Divert her probing questions with lighthearted commentary. Distract her when she began to cross the line of safety.
Most of the day, she prayed with her father.
Not only as an example to the rest of the clan.
But because he seemed grief-stricken, as if he’d lost his wife, not years ago, but yesterday.
Between prayers, she patted his hand and leaned her head against his shoulder, murmuring words of comfort to him.