Page 22 of Laird of Flint
“Come,” the prior said to Hew. “I’ll introduce ye. While ye’re makin’ the laird’s acquaintance, I’ll find out where Peris has gone.”
The great hall was packed with people. Maidservants wielded besoms, polished tables, and carried trays of oatcakes. Lads placed candles in sconces, wrangled loose hound pups, and poked at the coals on the hearth. Wee children played with wooden dolls. Noblewomen giggled over them. Warriors drank ale by the fire.
“There he is,” the prior said, nodding toward the far stairs.
Hew followed his gaze. A middle-aged nobleman towered several inches above the rest of his clanfolk. He was pleasant-looking, with a neatly trimmed black beard and fine clothing, as crisp and well-maintained as his castle. Though he wasn’t built like a warrior, he looked confident and calm. It was clear he was the leader of this clan.
Then Hew’s eyes fell to the young maid on his arm.
Suddenly he couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
She was The Most Beautiful Woman He Had Ever Seen in His Entire Life.
Chapter 5
The lass was so breathtaking, so knee-weakening, so heart-melting, Hew actually let the axe slide off his shoulder. It almost hit the man standing beside him.
“Hey, mind your blade,” the man growled.
“Sorry,” Hew mumbled, fixated on the impossibly lovely woman.
Then the man saw where he was looking. “Och. Lady Carenza. She’s a head-turner, for certain.”
Carenza.
In the village, her name had been on everyone’s lips. The alewife’s lad’s. The parchment-maker’s. The butcher’s son’s. In The Bell, the cooherd had been talking about her.
What had he said? That the Boyle lads wanted to court her, but her father had his sights set much higher.
No doubt. An angel that magnificent deserved nothing short of a king. Maybe a saint.
Traffic moved around him as he stood in stunned admiration.
Her father had her in a close grip. Hew couldn’t blame him. If he owned such a treasure, he’d hold onto her tightly too.
She looked as pale and delicate as an apple blossom. Her forest green gown clung to her gentle curves. She walked with such grace, she seemed to glide through the hall. Her dark waist-length braid was draped coyly over one shoulder.
But what caught at his heart and stopped his breath was her brilliant smile. Welcoming, warm, and full of delight, it made everyone around her smile in return. Like a candle moving through the shadows, she lit up everything she touched.
Hew could feel his heart stirring, waking, coming to life. A rush of emotion surged through his veins, warming his blood. The familiar gush of pleasure filled his body, melting his bones. His eyes softened as he gazed at her with the sudden certainty that he was sincerely, deeply, helplessly in love.
Again.
This time, however, she was The One. He was sure of it.
She continued on while he stood there, dumbfounded. Perhaps it was best that her father steered her up the stairs, for if Hew had crossed paths with her at that moment, he might have done something foolish. Like fallen to his knees and begged for her hand on the spot.
He gave his head a sobering shake.
What the hell was wrong with him? Had he no bloody self-control?
He’d vowed he was not going to fall in love. Not again. And he meant it. He had no intention of subjecting his heart to damage again just because he’d seen a lass with a bonnie face.
He took a deep breath. Gathered his wits.
When the laird emerged from the stairwell again, he was alone. Thank God.
But before they could engage him, a pair of merchants called Dunlop aside.
