Page 148 of Laird of Flint
“Och, ’twasn’t so simple as that,” she said, untying the silk rope girdle around her hips. “It seems ye and Gellir had the same plan.”
“What?” Hew barked. “What did he do?”
“He ran off and left a missive sayin’ ’twashewho broke off the betrothal with Carenza.”
Carenza gasped. Why would he do that?
“He claimed he wasn’t ready to take a wife,” Eve continued as she pulled the velvet surcoat over her head. “He said he wished to sow his oats a while longer.”
Hew grunted in disbelief.
She tossed the surcoat across the stump, which unfortunately scattered the pages again.
So Carenza hastily gathered them up once more. All but one. One of them landed at Hew’s feet.
He picked it up and looked at the page.
She froze.
Not noticing, Eve carried on, changing out of her crisp white leine into the drab nun’s garment. “He said when Carenza ran away in tears, he sent Sir Hew to retrieve her.”
“What?” Hew snapped, momentarily distracted from the page.
“He took the blame,” Eve said, “and made ye the hero.”
“But that’s not right,” Hew insisted. “I was to take the blame. To makehimthe hero.”
“I see.” Carenza spoke the sad truth. “Gellir tried to save our honor.”
“Wait, both o’ ye,” Eve said. “Ye’ve not heard the whole story.”
Hew didn’t know if he wanted to hear any more. How could things have gone so horribly wrong? Hew was supposed to have preserved Gellir’s reputation. But now Gellir had destroyed his own good name, just to save Hew from blame. Bloody hell. Sometimes his cousin’s sense of chivalry and self-sacrifice was excruciating.
“Meanwhile,” Eve continued, donning her scapular, “the king has returned to Perth.”
Hew straightened. “The king?” That could mean more trouble. While the king was in Toulouse, Hew was relatively safe. But if he’d already landed on Scottish soil…
Eve nodded. “O’ course, some o’ the lairds were not so ready to welcome Malcolm.” That was likely an understatement. The lairds had been at odds with Malcolm since his friendship with the English king. “So there was a siege.”
“A siege at Perth?”
“Aye,” she said. “And your brave cousin?”
Hew shuddered. If he knew Gellir… “Tell me he didn’t join the fighting.”
“He did.” She placed the veil over her head, tucking her hair under the edges of the cloth. “He couldn’t leave the king undefended.”
Hew let out a sigh. “Shite.”
The last thing his cousin should have risked was getting caught in the battle between his king and his countrymen. But of course that’s exactly what Gellir had done.
“I hope he’s all right,” Carenza said plaintively.
Hew heard the concern in her voice.
Though she’d been Gellir’s betrothed, Carenza claimed she’d never been in love with Gellir. She said he was good and kind, noble and valiant. But he wondered. Did she regret leaving him now? Now that they were forced to hide in a dark, dank cavern of a byre without proper food or clothing or even a marriage bed? Did she ever wish she’d wed Gellir instead of him?
He glanced again at the page. It appeared to be some sort of verse. Love verse. What would a nun be doing with love verse?
