Page 5 of Laird of Flint
The abbot had secretly requested a skilled warrior to deal with the thievery that had plagued the monastery for months. First, the silver cross upon the altar had gone missing. Then the gold chalice used for wine. A jeweled Bible had been taken from the nave, as well as several pieces of jewelry donated by wealthy nobles seeking to secure their place in heaven.
No one had been able to catch the elusive thieves. No one had even seen them. So the abbot had decided to use intimidation tactics. He figured a warrior from the Rivenloch clan would do nicely.
The abbot’s eyes lit up when he saw Hew’s mighty axe—sharp, gleaming, and deadly. And the generous donation of silver Hew brought from the Laird of Rivenloch only added to his enthusiasm.
The abbot knew if the thefts became common knowledge, nobles would begin to distrust the monastery. And if that happened, donations like those from Rivenloch would dwindle. Despite taking a vow of poverty, the monks depended upon the generosity of patrons for their sustenance.
The abbot needed Hew to quietly apprehend the outlaws and, if possible, secure the return of the valuables. In exchange, he’d give Hew a private cell, two meals a day, and safe haven should the king’s men come knocking.
His cell was a tiny, sparse enclosure with a straw pallet, a scratchy wool coverlet, a hook for clothing, and a single candle. Hew shivered as he dropped the satchel of his belongings onto the rush-covered clay floor. At least the room was dry. But with no hearth, it was as cold as a buttery.
Supper was barley pottage in a trencher and a cup of ale. He could have eaten twice as much, but the rations were scant. He made a mental note to snare a rabbit or two and see if there was a loch for fishing nearby to supplement the monks’ stores.
After supper, he returned to his cell. There he huddled, fully dressed, under the thin coverlet. His feet hung off the end of the pallet. His teeth chattered. His bones ached from the cold.
What he really needed more than anything, he decided, was a woman to keep him warm.
Chapter 2
“Good morn, Hamish,” Carenza softly cooed.
One big brown eye peered at her through the shaggy black strands of hair as Hamish plodded forward. His heavy hooves made dull thuds on the damp sod of the ferme.
“That’s a good lad.”
The other cattle, two dozen in all, followed behind Hamish, nodding their heads.
An outsider would have been horrified at the sight. The great dark beasts had horns almost as wide as Carenza was tall. The cattle descended upon her like a black cloud now, enclosing her with their enormous bodies.
Cainnech, her father’s cooherd, would have scowled in disapproval. He constantly warned her away from the unpredictable animals.
She constantly ignored his advice.
But she currently limited her visits to Saturday morns, when Cainnech took a few hours off to meet his mistress in the village. Then Carenza could roam among the cattle in peace.
She also kept her visits from her father. If the Laird of Dunlop could see her now, he’d lock her in her chamber and throw away the key.
To him, coos were one of two things…
Dangerous beasts with foot-crushing hooves and belly-gouging horns.
Or supper.
But to Carenza, Hamish was an old friend. She’d raised him as a calf. Brushed him. Played with him. Taught him tricks. Comforted him when he’d had to be crogged and gelded. Told him stories she swore he understood.
Carenza wasn’t afraid of Hamish.
She was afraidforhim.
As far as her father knew, his daughter was simply fond of riding. On Saturday morns, she’d saddle her palfrey Leannan and gallop off across the Dunlop land. What he didn’t know was that she always happened to ride to wherever the fold had gone to graze.
The grass was thin now. Snow dusted the tops of the mountains. Soon the cattle would be gathered to the stone-ringed close for the winter. And then…
Hamish nudged Carenza playfully with his nose, leaving a wet trail along her neck.
Carenza captured Hamish’s great head between her hands and scratched behind his ears. As she gazed lovingly into the animal’s enormous eyes, her own eyes welled with tears.
She would miss Hamish. But winter was coming. And sooner rather than later, she had to face the sickening truth.
