Page 110 of Laird of Flint
“M’lady?” came a feminine voice.
Carenza opened her mouth to reply, not sure whether she should.
Hew scowled and put a finger to his lips. Then he whispered, “Who is it?”
“My maidservant,” she whispered back.
He nodded. This was clearly not the first time he’d had to cover an indiscretion.
He called out, “This is Sir Hew. Lady Carenza allowed me the privacy of the solar to bathe. I hope ’tis all right.”
There was a brief pause. Then she asked, “Do ye need help, m’lord?”
Carenza frowned. Did the saucy maid think while her mistress was away she could feast her eyes on the naked Rivenloch warrior? The man Carenza loved?
But Hew seemed amused by her expression. “Nay, thank you,” he replied. “I’m nigh finished.”
“What about linens for dryin’?” the maid asked.
Carenza’s frown deepened.
Hew’s grin widened.
“Nay,” he called back. Then he turned a smoky, adoring gaze on Carenza. “I have everything I require.”
At his words, Carenza’s jealousy dissolved.
When they were wed, she supposed she’d have to get used to lasses staring at her handsome figure of a husband. Just as he would have to get used to the men who ogled her.
But their love had nothing to do with what others saw. The mask she wore as the well-behaved laird’s daughter was not her true self. And it was the freedom and vulnerability to be exactly who she was without judgment—with all her naked flaws and faults, her shortcomings and her sins, her insecurities and her waywardness—that made their bond precious.
He pressed a fond kiss to her knuckles and smoothed her skirts back down over her legs before he stood to adjust his own clothing.
She stole a glance before he began to lace up his braies. Though his anatomy was as intriguing as ever, his proud lance had diminished now.
She felt a pang of regret. Hew had ignited in her the most beautiful bonfire. She still felt the ashes of passion drifting down around her. But she hadn’t been able to grant him the same gift. Time had run out, and now the moment was past.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
He paused mid-lace. “Sorry? For what?” He looked wary, as if he thought she might be sorry for engaging in such behavior.
But nothing could be further from the truth.
“I’m sorry I could not repay ye in kind.”
He resumed lacing, and a wee smile played around his lips. “I assure you, ’twas nigh as pleasurable for me as for you.”
She knew that couldn’t be true. But it was kind of him to say so.
“Still, I would like to—”
“We dare not,” he interjected, firmly but gently. “I should not even have done…” He paused to let his eyes graze longingly over her body. “What I did.” He shook his head. “I leave for Kildunan on the morrow. And now I’ve made my time away from you even more painful.”
“Then don’t go,” she blurted out, even though she knew that was a ridiculous request.
“I have to go.” He slipped his leine on over his head. “You know that.”
She lowered her eyes and nodded.
