Page 143 of Laird of Flint
“Aye. He bids ye come with me. We must make all haste.” She glanced around the chamber once more. “If ye don’t have any things…”
“Take me to him.” What did things matter when the man she loved was waiting?
“Hold on. I’ve got somethin’ for ye.”
To Carenza’s astonishment, Sister Eve reached under her habit, fiddled with some ties, and pulled out another habit. She tossed it onto the bed.
“Put this on.”
The nun wandered to the window and peered through the crack in the shutters.
Carenza hesitated. A disguise? This seemed altogether too rash and mad and dangerous. She gulped.
“Where are we goin’?” she asked.
“Why, back to the nunnery, o’ course.” The nun turned and gave her an amused wink.
Carenza bit her lip. Running away. Was she sure she wanted to do that? Desert her bridegroom? And her clan? Risk everything on…
“Come.” Sister Eve gestured her over with a wave of her hand. “Look.”
Carenza joined her at the window and peered through the crack of the shutters. The Rivenloch clan was gathered in the courtyard. The men were bold and imposing. The warrior maids were impressive and intimidating. Seeing them made the breath stop in her chest. Was she sure she wanted to make foes of them?
Then her gaze landed on the Rivenloch man Eve was trying to point out.
It was Hew. He looked amazing. Dressed in resplendent attire for the wedding, with his hair pulled back into a formal braid, he might have been a Viking king.
He was mingling with the rest of his clan. But as she watched him, he crossed his arms and casually lifted his eyes to her window.
Her breath caught. Maybe he couldn’t see her. But he knew she was there, watching.
He gave a subtle nod of his head.
“That’s our signal,” Eve said. “Hurry now and dress.”
Her mind was made up. Aye, shewouldrisk everything on the man she loved. She hastily donned the drab habit, hiding her meticulously plaited tresses under the ash-colored veil and leaving her intricately embroidered wedding gown in a pool on the floor.
Eve scooped up the gown, folding and concealing it under her own habit.
“We’re to leave no evidence,” she explained, though Carenza wondered if “Sister Eve” meant to keep the garment.
“Are you even a real nun?” she asked.
Eve pretended affront, but then admitted, “Sometimes.”
Carenza felt a shiver of misgiving. Should she trust the lass? But then she remembered she herself had once feigned to be a cateran. She let out an uneasy sigh and straightened her spine. “I’m ready.” Then she reconsidered. “Wait.”
She went to the small wooden chest where she kept the ring Hew had given her and the verses from Gellir. She slipped the ring on her finger. She didn’t have the heart to burn the pages. But she dared not leave them behind. She stuffed them down the top of her habit.
“All right.”
They didn’t dare interact with Hew for fear of drawing attention. Eve said he would meet them later at the convent. Still, it surprised Carenza how easily she could pass through the halls of Darragh as one of a pair of nuns. Clothed in dull colors, with her head covered and bowed, she moved through the crowded courtyard almost invisibly. And with all the flurry of preparations for the wedding, their departure out the gates of the castle was scarcely noted.
The journey south was taxing. Though her reasons for fleeing were noble, Carenza was all too aware that defying the king’s will was treason.
But when she’d seen Hew’s face, when she’d tried to imagine a life without him, she knew she had to take a leap of faith.
Now she’d leaped too far to turn back.
