Chapter 20 #2
He should have told Carenza to be strong. To have patience. To remember that absence made the heart grow fonder.
Instead he hauled her into his arms one last time, kissed the top of her head, and made a rash promise. “I’ll find a way.”
As it turned out, finding a way was more challenging than Hew expected.
For more than a sennight after he returned to Kildunan, Father James was breathing down his neck.
Inquiring into what aspects of a monk’s life Hew was interested in.
Asking for details about Hew’s clan and his childhood.
Even suggesting Hew might wish to show his serious intent by adopting the shaved tonsure of a monk.
Hew did not.
Finally Father James ran out of questions and left Kildunan for his next monastery inspection.
After he was gone, the abbot privately assured Hew that he’d done well under the interrogation.
He thanked Hew for keeping his secret. He even slipped Hew a congratulatory bottle of wine to enjoy in his cell.
Drinking three-quarters of the bottle in his bed late at night had probably been a bad idea.
With only the pale plaster ceiling to look at, he quickly filled it with mental images of Lady Carenza.
Of her smooth and lovely skin. Her shining violet eyes.
Her cherry red lips. Her dark silken tresses.
Her creamy breasts. Her sleek thighs. The soft mystery of her woman’s flower, opening for him.
If he hadn’t been in a monastery, he might have taken matters into his own hands then. Just the thought of Carenza had made him hard as steel.
He reached for the bottle again. Maybe he could drink himself into a stupor.
By the time he finished off the wine, he’d made a decision.
Now that Father James was gone, Hew would journey to Dunlop on the morrow. It had been a fortnight since he’d seen Carenza. The real Carenza. Not some sketches of his imagination drawn on the cell ceiling.
He’d give the abbot some excuse to go. He’d say the physician wished to check on the progress of his burned hand. Aye, that could work.
With that happy thought, he drifted off to dream about the woman he loved.
Unfortunately, in the middle of the night, he was awakened by the arrival of a guildsman in the infirmary. By morn, the physician was already at Kildunan.
Peris stayed the whole morn, tending to the guildsman, whom the other monks confided was close to death. Hew wondered how a physician willing to steal from the church and kill a man with poison had the moral fortitude to sit by a dying man’s bedside.
Then a ghastly thought sent a prickling up his spine.
What if the physician was poisoning men in the infirmary? What if it was more than just the church treasures that went missing? Could Peris and his accomplice be murdering the nobles and robbing their corpses as well?
Suddenly Hew had a real reason he could give the abbot to travel to Dunlop—following up on a clue. While the physician was busy with the dying man at Kildunan, Hew could search Peris’s quarters.
Even better, the lady of the castle no doubt had keys to all the chambers. Carenza could give him access to the physician’s things. Looking for valuables among them wouldn’t take long. And then…
Then he and Carenza could take their time reuniting.
At least that was what he planned.
But the instant he strode into the crowded hall of Dunlop and spotted Carenza across the room, his heart leaped, and he forgot all about the first part of his mission.
His ceiling portraits hadn’t done her justice. Though her smile seemed strained as she spoke with two clanswomen near the stairwell, she looked more ravishing than he remembered.
A moment later, her meandering gaze halted on him. He saw her take a deep breath, and her tight smile broadened into a grin of pure pleasure.
He wanted to run to her. To sweep her up in his arms and kiss every inch of her face. To carry her up the stairs to her bedchamber and lock the door. To cast off his clothes and his inhibitions and make sweet love to her.
But they had to be cautious.
So he sauntered toward her, greeting clanfolk as he went, until he was close enough to see the shimmering delight in her eyes.
“Lady Carenza,” he said with a polite nod of his head.
“Sir Hew,” she replied in kind. “How nice to see ye. How long has it been? Thirty days? Three hundred?” She was teasing him.
He gave her a chiding smile. “Only a fortnight, my lady.”
She sighed. “Is that all?”
“Is that Sir Hew o’ Rivenloch?” her father suddenly bellowed, coming up to join them. “How’s your hand, lad?”
Hew held up his injured hand. The blisters were gone and the skin had healed with little scarring. “Well enough to grip an axe.”
“Good to hear.” He clapped a hand atop Hew’s shoulder. “’Tis time ye returned to us.” He leaned close to whisper loudly, “My daughter missed ye somethin’ fierce.”
“Da!” she scolded.
“’Tis true, lass,” he said. “Your smile’s grown a bit dim.”
Hew told him, “Alas, I fear I’m not returning just yet.”
“What?”
“I’ve only come to fetch a few of the physician’s things. He needs them at the monastery.”
“I see,” he said, disappointed. “Well, Carenza has the key to his quarters.” He gave her a wink. “Ye can let him in, aye?”
“O’ course.”
He gave Hew’s shoulder a squeeze. “Are ye sure ye won’t stay? It can’t be too excitin’, mopin’ about with monks.”
“I’m sure.”
That was a lie. He’d never been less sure. All he had to do was glance at Carenza’s face to cast a thousand doubts on his decision to return to Kildunan.
When they were out of hearing of her father, Carenza murmured, “Is that true? Did ye come to fetch Peris’s things?”
“Not exactly.”
She smiled. She hadn’t been so happy in a fortnight. Had it truly only been a fortnight? It felt like forever.
Then he added, “But I do need to see his quarters before we…”
“Before we…?”
The smoldering glance he gave her said everything. Her heart flipped like a fresh-caught trout. The blood sang in her veins. And her body awakened as if his gaze had physically touched her.
“I missed ye so,” she whispered.
“It turns out you were right,” he whispered back. “I’d make a terrible monk.”
They reached the physician’s quarters, and she opened the door with her key.
He stepped in and closed the door behind them.
She whirled about and immediately collided with him in an outpouring of affection. A fortnight’s worth of yearning spilled from her like ale from an uncorked barrel. In his arms, she felt like she’d come home.
Hew responded in equal measure. Attacking her like a starving man at a feast. As if he could never get enough of her to fill the cavern of his heart.
Arms squeezed. Hands grasped. Mouths sought out flesh. Breath mingled in a whirlwind of desire. Their passion was frenzied and fearless, a ferocious storm they braved together.
As they kissed, he turned and backed her against the door.
Then he used the deft fingers of one hand to gather her skirts, hiking them higher and higher.
His other hand he crooked around the back of her neck, pulling her close.
His body molded to hers, and she could feel the hard evidence of his desire against her hip.
He deepened the kiss. His tongue swept the interior of her mouth, and she answered him, snaking her tongue around his in a dizzying dance.
Then his fingers reached the hem of her skirts, and he rooted beneath them.
She stiffened as he threaded his fingers into the curls guarding her womanhood. But then, driven by instinct, she pushed against his hand. The pressure was divine. His fingers glided farther, urging her thighs apart and moving toward the center of her need.
Her mouth fell open. She let her head fall aside.
He swooped down on her exposed neck then, where his lips found a sensitive spot just below her ear. A place that stirred her senses. Made her head hum. And drove her to madness.
When he slipped his fingers between her wet nether lips, she pressed hard against his hand, stretching, yearning, aching for more.
He whispered in her ear, “Do you like this?”
She shivered, moaned softly, and nodded.
He moved his fingers over her then, stroking and circling her swollen flesh.
“You’re so soft,” he whispered. “So wet. So beautiful.”
She should thank him. The laird’s daughter was always gracious with compliments. But she couldn’t center her thoughts. She could barely stand.
Instead, she clung more tightly to him. Squeezed her eyes shut as the lovely sensation betwixt her thighs grew more pronounced. More focused. More inevitable.
“Shall I go on?” he murmured, slowing his pace as her tension increased.
“Aye,” she breathed.
“Are you sure?” he asked, stopping his movement.
“Aye,” she insisted, on the edge of frustration. “Damn ye.” The ache was unbearable. She tried to grind against his palm.
With a throaty chuckle, he resumed his motions.
Already primed, she burst rapidly into flame. She burned high and hot as she arched toward him, shuddering with sweet deliverance.
Afterwards, her knees turned to custard, and she collapsed against him to catch her breath.
“Och God, Carenza,” he murmured. “You’re magnificent.”
She smiled weakly. But if he thought she was magnificent now…
She could still feel his iron-hard staff against her belly. She wondered… Could she give him the same kind of pleasure he’d given her?
While she rested her head on his chest, she perused the physician’s shelves beside them. There was a row of oils—rosemary, lavender, hyssop, mint—with various medicinal uses. She’d once overheard two maids talk of pleasuring men with their hands and what kind of oil was best for the purpose.
Turning her attention back to him, she unfastened the leather belt at his hips and let it drop to the floor. Then she turned to force him back against the door and began gathering up his leine.
He paused her arm once to warn her, “This may be dangerous.”
She gave him a one-sided smile. “Only if I do it right.”
She pushed his leine up as far as she could and took a moment to worship his formidable chest with her lips.
“Hold this?” she asked.
He crossed his arms over his chest, holding the leine in place while she untied his trews and braies. His eyes closed, and his brow creased as she carefully slipped the garments down, allowing his rigid member to spring free.
She sighed in awe. Then she plucked the almond oil from the physician’s shelves.
Uncorking the vial, she poured a small amount into her palm.
She wrapped her fingers around him as tenderly as she could.
But he still quivered and sucked in a sharp breath when she spread the oil over his velvet-soft skin.
“Does that hurt?”
The last thing she expected was a weak chuckle of amusement.
“Och nay, lass. It doesn’t hurt. Not e’en a wee bit.”
Her confidence restored, she began moving her hand experimentally over his warm, firm flesh. He pulsed within her hand as she slowly drew up and down his length.
“Do ye like that?” she ventured.
“Mmm.”
He opened his eyes a crack then, looking at her with such seductive adoration that all at once she wanted to be perfect for him.
But she had no experience with such things. “Will ye show me how?”
He nodded. Wrapping his free hand around hers, he guided her movements. The rhythm, slow at first, gradually increased along with the pace of his breathing.
Watching the changes in his expression, she grew enraptured by his sweet torment.
Desire made a deep crease in his brow. Flared his nostrils.
Tightened his jaw. The yearning in his face was beautiful.
It mirrored what she’d felt. If coupling brought such sensations, how heavenly would it be to enjoy them together?
His breath suddenly hastened and deepened. The motion of his hand over hers became more rigid. He bent his head forward as if in anguish.
But it wasn’t pain. In the next moment, his back banged against the door. His hips rocked forward as he erupted in spasms of release, groaning and spilling his seed over their joined hands.
“Oh,” he panted, his chest heaving with exhaustion, “I’m sorry.”
But Carenza didn’t care about that. She was left speechless with awe.
He found a clean linen rag on the shelf and mopped up the mess. Then he let his leine fall between them and drew her into the circle of his arms.
She was still reeling with wonder.
She felt dwarfed by the magnificence of his passion.
Intoxicated by the heady power she wielded in her hands.
Honored by the trust he’d extended to her.
And reassured about his love.
She was reluctant to admit it. But being away from Hew for a fortnight had left her troubled by doubt. They’d known each other for less than a fortnight. Did he truly care for her? Or would time apart diminish his affection? What if absence made him forget her altogether?
Now, as he cradled her against his shoulder, she felt secure again, as if he’d never left.