Page 45 of Laird of Flint
He managed a sickly smile and let out a long breath.
God’s bones. What had he done? This was just the sort of reckless behavior that always got him into trouble.
What was he going to do now?
He had no intention of doing what she wanted most—walking away and letting her continue on her perilous journey alone through the mountains.
And he certainly couldn’t go with her. It was bad enough to confess to reiving cattle. He couldn’t afford to be accused of abducting a noblewoman as well. Not again.
“You need to return to Dunlop,” he told her. “It grows late. Your father will miss you.”
“But Hamish…”
“I’ll take him.”
“Ye don’t know the path or where I was goin’. Ye don’t know Hamish. And he doesn’t know ye. What if ye fall again?”
He grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. She wasn’t going to like his answer. Hell,hedidn’t like his answer. But it was the only way.
“You—I’m taking back to Dunlop. The coo—I’m taking to the monastery.”
“What? Nay.”
“I’ll keep him safe,” he vowed, wondering how on earth he was going to do that.
“Ye’ll sell him,” she accused.
“Nay, I won’t. I promise.”
“Or ye’ll slaughter and eat him.”
“I told you, I’ll protect him.”
“Ye swear?”
“On my honor.”
“But for how long?”
He didn’t know how to answer that. “It grows late. Let’s chat on the way,” he said, nodding down the trail.
“He’ll need food,” she said, coiling her hand in the coo’s fur to guide him along the path while Hew followed. “The grass at the monastery is nigh gone. So ye’ll have to purchase hay.”
Hew frowned. Purchase hay? Already this was sounding like far more responsibility than he’d anticipated. Not to mention that what went in came out. The abbot certainly wouldn’t put up with a cloister covered in coo shairn.
“I’ll send ye coin for the hay, o’ course,” she assured him. “I can’t imagine ye brought much if ye’re staying at the monastery.”
He grunted.
“Whyareye staying at a monastery?” she asked.
He wasn’t at liberty to say. He’d promised to keep the monastery thefts secret. Instead he told her the first thing that popped into his head. “I’m thinking of…of taking my vows.”
She coughed. Or choked. Or laughed. He wasn’t sure which.
After a long and uncomfortable silence, she finally replied, “Ye should probably tell my father about your vows then. He’s invited ye for Samhain supper, and I fear he has hopes ye will offer to court me.”
Hew suddenly regretted his pathetic lie. On the other hand, he supposed the lie would help him keep his vow of chastity. Besides, it was too late to repair the damage.
