Page 136 of Laird of Flint
By the time she packed for the journey to Darragh and bid her father farewell, there was no doubt in her mind.
Her breasts were sore. Her belly was troubled. And she had an unnatural craving for pickled eels and little else.
Sir Gellir of Rivenloch’s bride-to-be was carrying a child. And it wasn’t his.
Chapter 24
It was entirely Hew’s fault. He saw that now.
It had taken him a long while to come to terms with that tragic truth.
At first he’d stewed in bitterness, sure everyone in the world had turned against him. Lady Carenza. Her father. His clan. His king. Even the gods.
But long days at Kildunan and a missive from Laird Deirdre had finally made him realize he had no one to blame but himself. And now, as he packed his possessions into his satchel to take leave of the monastery, he was even more certain he needed to unburden his conscience.
According to Laird Deirdre’s glowing missive, Hew was the one responsible for Gellir’s betrothal. It was his recommendation that had condemned Carenza to this fate. He was the one whose quill had set Lady Carenza’s virtues to parchment. He was the one who’d painted her as an angel. A saint. A goddess.
He could see now what he’d neglected to clarify was that he meant Carenza was the perfect bride forhim.
Hew.
Because of his careless omission, everyone wrongly assumed Hew had made the suggestion on behalf of his cousin, Gellir. After all, Gellir was the one in the most urgent need of a Scottish wife. He was a tournament champion and the heir to Rivenloch, a more valuable and vulnerable pawn when it came to the king’s designs.
And before Hew could correct that error, Gellir—who trusted Hew’s judgment when it came to women—had agreed to the match. And Laird Deirdre had been eager to petition the king on her son’s behalf.
But—damn his eyes—Gellir could haveanybride.
Women tripped over themselves to catch a glimpse of the illustrious champion Sir Gellir Cameliard of Rivenloch as he rode through their town. Titled ladies begged for an introduction. Wise beldams winked slyly at him. Maidservants freely offered their favors.
Of course, to the women’s eternal frustration—and fascination—Gellir took no interest in any of them. He might be a model of chivalry, but he hadn’t become a champion by letting himself be distracted by female attention. Every moment he wasn’t waging battle in the lists, he was training for the next tournament. He lived, ate, and breathed knightly honor.
How unjust was it then that the glory-seeking Gellir should be rewarded with such a special prize of a bride? Gellir would have been just as content with a quintain cut into the shape of a woman he could joust against. He didn’t deserve Carenza.
And she didn’t deserve him.
Carenza needed someone who felt things as deeply as she did. Someone who shared her desires. Who understood her heart. Who appreciated her sensitivities. Someone who wanted more than a figurehead of a lady to bear his name and raise his bairns. Someone who appreciated her for the unique person she was.
Sentenced to a lifetime with Gellir, she would languish in loneliness while her husband pursued victory after victory. That was no kind of life for a creature like Carenza, who was made of passion and empathy and sacrifice.
Sacrifice.
Of course.
That explained her rejection that night. Her nonchalance. Her calm. The ease with which she’d accepted the king’s decree.
Like all his past lovers, he’d assumed she’d grown weary of him or had never been as deeply in love with him as he was with her.
But now he could see clearly.
She’d thrust Hew away from her to preserve his honor. Masked her own broken heart to save his feelings. In the same way she hid her sorrow and ire and grief from her father, she’d tried to protect Hew from her distress at the betrothal. She’d pretended to be amenable to the terms. Sacrificed herself to please those she cared about. Her father. And Hew.
He’d decided he couldn’t let her do that.
So he’d taken the honey to Dunlop.
Hoping for a chance to speak with her. To get to the truth of her heart.
What he would do with that truth, he wasn’t sure.
