Chapter 16 #2
But Hew wondered, who comforted her? Carenza had lost her mother.
Hew couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to grow up without the love of his mother.
Lady Helena was a fierce fighter, but her love was just as fierce.
And the things Hew had learned about women—about their vulnerability, their strength, their hearts, their minds—he could never have learned without his mother.
The All Souls Day rituals were unfamiliar to Hew. In his clan, descended from Vikings, they celebrated Alfablot, which likewise honored their ancestors. But it was a quiet and private affair conducted in one’s household.
Nonetheless, he prayed silently for his grandfather Gellir. He’d never known the white-bearded giant. But the great warrior had been an inspiration to the Rivenloch clan.
It was nearly dark when, halfway through a prayer to Odin—for his grandfather had never much cared for the gods of the Scots, Hew glanced up to see Carenza ambling toward Peris.
She whispered something to the physician.
Then the two of them rounded the corner of the church, disappearing from view.
He quickly ended his prayer and moved in their direction.
Halting behind the corner of the wall, just out of sight, he didn’t hear her first words, but he heard the next.
“I don’t remember much. I was so young at the time. But I do remember how ye stayed with her, day and night. How ye worked tirelessly, tryin’ to save her.”
Peris cleared his throat. “Your mother was a good woman.”
“And ye were so kind and attentive. It must have made her final hours a comfort.”
He was clearly discomfited by her praise. “I hope so,” he muttered. “’Twas hard for the laird to see her go.”
Carenza sighed. “But how much more difficult it must be for those who don’t have a carin’ physician to attend them in their final hours.”
All at once, Hew felt awkward and out of place. She obviously didn’t have an interrogation in mind. She was only sharing personal memories with her mother’s physician and thanking him for his service.
Uncomfortable and unsure what to do, Hew took a sudden keen interest in the crow perched on the top of the churchyard wall.
Then he overheard Carenza say, “But ye do that at Kildunan, don’t ye? Ye give all those wretched souls ease in their final hours.”
“’Tisn’t only me, m’lady,” the physician protested. “All the monks are there to provide comfort.”
“Och aye. But they don’t all attend a dyin’ man, do they? Is that not the purview o’ the physician and perhaps the most senior clergy?”
The sly lass was prying. Poking her nose where it didn’t belong. But she was doing it in such a clever way, Peris couldn’t detect it. Indeed, the physician was answering her as readily as beer flowed from a tapped barrel.
“Certainly the abbot and prior are there,” he told her. “And often the senior clergy take their turns at watchin’ o’er the man.”
“Ah. ’Tis so encouragin’ to hear.” Then she lowered her voice so Hew had to strain to make out her words.
“In truth, I’ve often wished to give a tithin’ to those who offer such charitable services.
But my father insists ’tis an act of mercy, to be rewarded in heaven.
” She clucked her tongue. “Do ye think ye might give me the names o’ your closest acquaintances among the clergy?
I’d like to make a generous donation in their name. ”
Genius. The lass was as smooth as his axe blade. Her innocence and earnestness was allowing her to collect exactly the information they needed without the appearance of prying.
Once she got the names, of course, that would be the end of it. The rest was far too risky for her. He’d commend her for her efforts. Then he would take on the mantle of the mission, question the suspects, and solve the crime. Alone.
Carenza watched three emotions flit through the physician’s eyes.
The first was annoyance, as if he resented being tasked with making a judgment about which acquaintances were his closest.
The second was envy, as if he deserved a donation for his efforts as well, despite making a generous wage from her father.
And the third was enterprise. He glimpsed a chance for profit. If not his own, at least a reward for his allies that he might leverage in the future.
Finally he nodded. “O’ course, m’lady. As ye know, the abbot and the prior are always present. But three others come to mind who have oft been by my side with the dyin’. Brother Michael. Brother Robert. And Brother William.”
“Michael. Robert. And William,” she repeated. “I shall send a donation forthwith. But I pray ye keep my confidence. If my father should hear o’ my generosity, I fear he might not wholeheartedly approve.”
“As ye wish, m’lady,” he said, stepping away.
She nodded and then whirled to leave. Rounding the corner of the church, she nearly collided with Sir Hew.
“What are ye—” she bit out between her teeth, then remembered her father might be watching. Gritting out a tight smile, she asked, “Listenin’ around corners, are ye?”
“Michael, Robert, and William,” he said. “That was brilliant.”
She was shocked into silence. She expected a reprimand, not a compliment. Yet he seemed sincere.
“Truly brilliant,” he repeated, shaking his head in wonder.
Her proud glow lasted a few precious moments.
“Now that we’ve got the names,” he continued, “I’ll question them on the morrow. ’Tis Michael, Robert, and William, right?”
“Nay!”
She winced at her own loud outburst. Then, before she could attract undue attention, she snagged Hew by the front of his plaid and pulled him around the corner of the church.
“Nay,” she repeated.
He seemed puzzled. “Those aren’t their names?”
“Aye. But nay, ye can’t question them on the morrow.”
She could see the pressure of ire building inside him, like a shaken bottle of wine, despite his steady tone. “And why is that?”
“Think about it,” she explained patiently. “Ye—the man Peris just tried to kill, the one who’s investigatin’ the thefts—go to the monastery to question three respected monks. What will they assume?”
His brow creased as he digested her words. “Fine. Then I’ll wait a day or two.”
She shook her head. “Nay. I’ll go.”
“The devil you will.”
“Listen. If I go, ’twill be to deliver the donation. Naturally, I’ll want to meet the monks, to thank them for their service. And they’ll wish to thank me for the tithin’. ’Tis far less questionable.”
He looked pained. “I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?” She held up a hand. “And don’t tell me ’tis a knight’s duty to protect all ladies.” She still stung from that remark.
“I told you before, ’tis too dangerous.”
“There’s nothing dangerous about givin’ a tithe to a monastery.”
“If they suspect you know anything…”
“They won’t. I won’t give anythin’ away. I’m a laird’s daughter. I’m used to keepin’ up appearances.”
He seemed frustrated. “I don’t want you entangled in any of this.”
“I’m already entangled.” Then she smiled. A genuine smile this time. “But don’t worry. I’m brilliant. Or so I’ve been told.” She reached up to give him a reassuring clap on the cheek.
He seized her wrist with his unbandaged hand. “I’m serious, my lady.”
As he spoke, he began brushing his thumb idly back and forth along the inside of her wrist, the way she put a lizard to sleep by rubbing its belly.
“This is a hazardous game,” he said. “If anything should go awry… If anything should endanger you… Bloody hell, if anything should happen to the woman I love…”
She gave a little gasp.
He halted the movement of his thumb.
Had he meant that?
He’d left the sentence unfinished. He clearly hadn’t meant to blurt that out. But had he meant it?
She gazed into his eyes. Eyes that shone like molten silver. Eyes that suffered and smoldered and adored. And she saw the truth. He’d spoken from his heart. He did love her.
Carenza was never impulsive. She plotted and planned every move, every gesture, every expression. What to wear. What to say. How to comport herself. Such was the life of the clan’s heiress.
But for the first time in her life she threw caution to the wind. Acted on instinct. And followed her heart.
Curling her fists in the front of his plaid, she pushed him back against the stone wall of the church, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his.