Page 150 of Laird of Flint
And then Hew recalled when he’d left Gellir imprisoned in the armory, he’d been shackled to the redheaded maidservant. He hadn’t had time to ask why.
Eve laughed in delight. “So ye see, ye’ve all come to happy endin’s.” She ruffled the pages in her hand. “And I’d wager the alms o’ St. Andrews, ’twas Merraid herself who wrote these verses on Gellir’s behalf.”
“A maidservant writing verse?” Hew scoffed. “And why do that if she was in love with Gellir?”
Eve shrugged. “She probably didn’t think she had a chance at him herself. But if she cared for him, she wanted him to be happy.”
Carenza clapped a hand to her heart and let out a sigh.
“The wordswerewritten from the heart,” she said wistfully. “Just not for me. How difficult it must have been for Merraid to be kind to me all that time when I was betrothed to the man she loved.”
Hew knew just how she felt.
“We have to save these verses,” she decided. “They trulyarewonderful. ’Twould be a shame to lose them.” Then her eyes lit up as she turned to him. “Perhaps one day we can return them to Gellir and Merraid ourselves, Hew.”
He felt the weight of sorrow crush his shoulders. Eve had said they’d all come to happy endings. But that wasn’t quite true. He and Carenza were still fugitives.
“’Tis not yet safe for us,” he said gently. “The king—”
“Och, Eve!” Eve chastised herself. “Ye left out the best part again.” She clasped prayer hands under her chin and smiled. “Merraid made sure ye and Hew would be forgiven for fleein’.”
Carenza and Eve cheered in celebration.
Hew furrowed his brows. “That’s good news. But I’m not sure it changes much. We might be forgiven for fleeing. But fleeing isn’t the same as defying our lairds and king by marrying without permission.”
Sister Eve flapped her hand at him in unconcern. “I’m sure ’twill be fine. The king’s a romantic, after all.”
But Hew knew affairs were seldom easily solved where royal decrees were involved. At the moment, all he and Carenza had was the wedding document they’d been provided. Not even clan marks were attached to give it authority.
He didn’t wish to dampen their spirits. Eve had come to his aid when he needed her most.
But he questioned how much he should rely on her judgment as to safety in matters of life and death, considering a few things he knew about the nun.
For one thing, she seemed to be Sister Eve only when it suited her.
She somehow had an endless supply of clothing and seldom wanted for coin.
For a woman on her own, she traveled fearlessly far and wide.
And he had to wonder why she’d arrived in a sumptuous velvet gown and was fleeing again in a humble nun’s habit, rushing off as if the Devil were after her.
But he didn’t want to ask too many questions and risk offending her.
Instead he said, “I’m sure you’re right. But I’d feel safer if we had the clan seals and royal approval on the wedding decree.”
Eve shrugged. “Done. Do ye have the document?”
He fetched it from his satchel.
She took the scroll, lifted up her scapular, and stuffed it down the front of her leine.
Before he could utter another word and while Carenza’s jaw still hung open, Eve whirled and headed for the door.
“You’re leaving already?” he asked. Her hasty departure was highly suspicious.
“Aye.”
“But you’re coming back?”
