Page 52 of Laird of Flint
Hew continued. “I seized the beast, and they scattered, so I ne’er got a good look at their faces.” He glanced at the Boyles, who were wisely silent. “Then, not knowing who the animal belonged to, I brought it to the monastery until the matter could be sorted out.”
The laird nodded, satisfied. Then he turned to the Boyles. “Ye see? A perfectly reasonable explanation.”
Hew noticed Dunlop asked no further questions of the Boyles. He was a wise laird indeed, not wishing to stir up trouble with neighboring clans.
As for the Boyles, they didn’t dare reveal any more of the story and seemed happy to let it lie. Indeed, they decided to leave straightaway for home.
As the laird bid them farewell, Hew let his glance fall on the woman for whom he’d just borne false witness.
He expected her to be relieved. Awestruck. Grateful.
She was none of these. Instead, she looked more miserable than before.
He frowned. Then he realized, of course…
He hadn’t solved her problem.
He’d only solvedhis.
The laird of Dunlop would take Hamish home now. He’d slaughter the beast along with the rest of the six-years, as planned.
In her eyes, all of it—her efforts, their plan, his rescue—had been for naught.
“Ye can take the hay for your cattle, m’laird,” the abbot offered. “We won’t have any use for it.”
Hew kept hearing the lady’s words in the back of his mind.Hamish saved your life. Ye owe him his.
It was that haunting refrain and the hopeless look in Carenza’s eyes that made him act impulsively yet again.
“How much for the beast?” he blurted out.
“What do ye mean?” the laird asked.
“How much would you take for it?”
The laird blinked. “Ye wish to purchase it.”
“Aye.”
The tightfisted prior scoffed. He had an opinion on that. “We can’t keep a coo.”
The abbot lay a hand on the prior’s forearm, probably envisioning months’ worth of roasts in his future. “If Sir Hew wishes to purchase the animal, who are we to argue with his generosity?”
“How much, my laird?” Hew repeated.
The laird gave him a figure, far less than the beast was worth, perhaps thinking to endear himself to the powerful Rivenloch clan.
“Here is double that,” Hew said, handing over his purse to the laird.
“Double?” the laird exclaimed. “Ye’re certain ye want to do that?”
“Aye.”
One glimpse of Carenza’s relieved smile made it all worthwhile.
It was hours later—watching Hamish in the midst of a diminishing pile of hay and increasing piles of coo shairn—that he realized he was now the proud owner of a beast about which he knew almost nothing.
Chapter 10
