Page 151 of Laird of Flint
“O’ course.”
“But your gown,” Carenza said.
Eve took a considerate glance at the precious garment. “Hold onto it for me, will ye?”
Then, before Carenza could even close her gaping mouth, Eve peeked out the door and slipped out, continuing on her way, scurrying rapidly across the glen.
To Hew’s surprise, Carenza was first to bring up doubts about their guest.
“How well do ye know Sister Eve?” she asked.
He didn’t want to tell her how close he’d come to swiving Eve when he hadn’t realized she was a nun. “Not terribly well.”
“Do ye trust her?”
“To be honest, not completely.”
“I know, aye? Where did she get such an expensive gown?” she asked, stroking the soft velvet as if it were a pet. “There was definitely someone chasing her.”
Hew nodded. “I don’t think she’d hurt a fly. She doesn’t have a mean bone in her body.”
“And she’s a nun.”
“Right.” Hew didn’t want to have that complex discussion right now. “But I’m not sure she always has her facts right.”
“I’m glad she’s goin’ to get the permissions.” She looked up at him with creased brows, as if she didn’t want to disappoint him. “I know ’tis miserable for ye, living alone in the woods with only birds and squirrels for company. But I’d rather live here with ye till I’m old and gray than come out o’ hidin’ too soon and risk losin’ ye.”
Hew’s heart melted at her touching words. If she realized how much he’d enjoyed sharing this laborious but rewarding adventure with her, she wouldn’t have apologized. Mostly he was relieved he didn’t have to be the one to dampen their plans to return to Dunlop.
“I love it here,” he said. “You know that, aye?”
Her face blossomed into a pleased smile, as sunny as the primroses blooming in the glen.
“The fresh air,” he said, stepping close to caress her cheek. “The peaceful woods.” He wound a lock of her beautiful chestnut hair around his callused finger. “Sparrow song. Morning dew.” He tugged gently on her curl, bringing her close. “Sleeping when we’re weary,” he murmured. “Waking whene’er we wish.” He lowered his gaze to her delectable lips. “Trysting when the mood…”
He never finished the thought.
Carenza finished it for him.
Chapter 27
Summer filled the glen with meadowsweet and bluebells.
Still Sister Eve didn’t return.
Twice, against Carenza’s wishes, Hew had risked a visit to the village alehouse late at night, heavily cloaked and stooped to hide his size. Yet he’d learned nothing about the king’s disposition or the status of the laird of Dunlop or what anyone imagined had become of that Rivenloch warrior with the axe.
Carenza wasn’t surprised. The men who exchanged gossip at a village alehouse were more likely to discuss the cost of bread and which neighbor was cheating on his wife than Scottish politics and nobles’ marriages.
But she didn’t mind. They’d transformed the byre into a home.
Meanwhile, summer ripened slowly into autumn.
The thistles in the glen flourished and faded. Bilberries and blackberries swelled and sweetened. Squirrels and hedgepigs and foxes had litters of young. Woodland birds retired their songs and muted their colors. And the trees changed out of their green gowns into shades of gold and scarlet that fluttered off like butterflies in the blustery wind.
Carenza’s body ripened as well.
At first, it was no great inconvenience.
