Page 106 of Laird of Flint
“So he intends to return?”
“N—” she began.
“Aye,” the abbot interjected. “Aye, he should be well in…a day or two?”
The abbot was looking at her for confirmation. Confirmation she didn’t want to give. She didn’t want Hew to return to the monastery. She wanted him to stay at Dunlop. With her.
But she didn’t want to endanger him or his mission. So she nodded.
“I would speak with him upon his return,” the Father said to the abbot. “I find it curious that a border clan warrior would wish to join a holy order in the Highlands.”
“So I’ve said many times,” the prior smugly snipped.
To the prior’s disappointment, Father James ignored him. Instead, he turned to Carenza. “You’ll tell Sir Hew I look forward to his return to Kildunan.”
Carenza didn’t particular like being ordered about by a priest. But she bowed her head. Now was not the time to ruffle feathers. This time, however, she skipped the smile. Father James clearly disliked her. Maybe he disliked all women. That was probably useful in his profession. But it rendered her best weapon—her charm—worthless.
Hew spent most of the afternoon pacing back and forth along the wall walk. He told himself it would help him recover from two days wasted in an opium stupor. After all, he was used to a daily diet of combat and lovemaking, neither of which he’d enjoyed for weeks. If he could neither wield his axe or ease his lust, he could at least ensure his legs didn’t stiffen with disuse.
But that didn’t explain why he kept eyeing the castle road every time a new traveler surfaced from the woods.
Carenza had been gone for hours. Soon it would grow dark.
Had there been trouble at the monastery? Had she raised any suspicions with her questioning? Had she uncovered the accomplice and unwittingly put a target on her back?
Bloody hell. He should never have let her go.
At the time, it had made sense. She’d convinced him it was perfectly safe. Reasonable. The best option. But perhaps it had only seemed so because he was basking in the afterglow of her caresses. Sometimes it seemed to Hew that when his blood rushed to his loins, it vacated his brain.
He wished he’d never involved her.
Just then, the Laird of Dunlop and his small entourage appeared over the rise, returning from the Boyle keep. Even at a distance, Hew could hear the men jesting and laughing. Maybe Carenza had been right. Maybe they’d gone as much to crow over the Boyles’ misfortune as to lend assistance.
When his gaze returned to the road, Carenza had already emerged from the trees and was halfway to the keep. By all appearances, she was safe and sound.
He let out a relieved breath. His shoulders dropped. Finally he felt like he could stop pacing. He hurried down to meet her in the great hall.
When he neared, her eyes lit up briefly, as if he were the only man in the room. But he wasn’t. Servants hurried back and forth between them, preparing for supper and the return of the laird.
They couldn’t talk here. She quickly ushered him upstairs to the solar and closed the door.
He feared she meant to begin again where she had left off. Kissing him. Embracing him. Caressing him. Actually, “feared” wasn’t quite the right word for it.
But she had more important matters on her mind.
Without preamble, she said, “Father James was at Kildunan.”
“Shite.”
“Ye have to go back to the monastery.”
“Now?”
“Perhaps on the morrow?” she suggested.
“Why?”
“He wants to question ye.”
