Page 58 of Laird of Flint
“Most o’ the Rivenloch clan reads,” Hew told him. “’Tis useful for negotiations along the border.”
Carenza couldn’t help herself. She had to know. “The lasses as well?”
“Aye. Some of our lasses grow up to be lairds.”
Her father frowned. “Sir Hew’s own aunt is the laird o’ Rivenloch.”
She could tell by her father’s tone that she should have known that. But her studies were learning letters and numbers. Not memorizing who was laird of every clan in Scotland.
Thankfully, Sir Hew saved her from the embarrassment of silence by filling in his family history.
“The Rivenloch clan is ancient, born of two cultures that gave equal power to men and women,” he explained. “It began with the marriage of a Viking warrior and a Pictish princess.”
“Och aye,” her father said. “Many Vikin’s took Picts as wives when they invaded.”
“In this instance, ’twas a rare love match,” Hew said. “The Viking was shipwrecked and heartsick, and the Pictish princess was exiled and alone. She took him captive for barter, but as fate would have it, they fell in love. Thus was born the Rivenloch motto.”
Her father replied,“Amor vincit omnia.”
Love conquers all, she silently translated.
“Aye,” Hew said. “It remains to this day, and our tradition of equal power has remained as well.”
“Interestin’,” her father said, which was always what he said when he wasn’t sure he approved.
Carenza was too astonished to comment.
Equal power. How freeing would that be? If she had equal power, she’d keep pets openly in her chamber. And decree that beef was off the menu. And formally announce that she intended to choose her own husband when she was ready.
“And what do you think of that, my lady?” Sir Hew asked.
She knew better than to voice her actual thoughts in front of her father.
“Interestin’,” she said, giving him a noncommittal smile.
Then he gave her another knowing wink, and she glanced away before her blush could betray her.
Meanwhile, her thoughts churned like a raging river.
Equal power. The idea was intoxicating. If she married into the Rivenloch clan, would she be endowed with such power? Would she be free to make her own decisions?
Sir Hew had made it clear. He was destined for the church. But could he have an unmarried kinsman? One who was more ordinary, even-tempered, and predictable than the axe-wielding warrior monk? Perhaps a brother? Or even better, a twin who shared Sir Hew’s good looks, captivating gaze, muscular body, broad shoulders, powerful hands, firm buttocks…
She must find out.
If there was another eligible Rivenloch bachelor, she could direct her father toward him. If they suited and eventually married…
She might be able to follow her dreams.
Keep a menagerie of animals.
Finish her bestiary.
Steer her own fate.
Chapter 11
The Laird of Dunlop believed Hew was a well-connected noble in need of a wife.
