Page 68 of Laird of Flint
She took the finished cup to the basin to rinse it.
“You stayed with me,” he called out to her. “Why?”
“’Twas the least I could do, considerin’ ye saved my life.”
He settled back onto the bed. “Well, you saved mine, so I suppose we’re even.”
“Nay. Ye saved Hamish’s life as well.”
“Right. But let’s not keep flirting with death just to even the score.”
“Agreed.”
To Hew, it seemed rather reckless for the laird to leave him alone with his daughter. But then maybe she’d told him Hew was bound for the church and therefore unassailable.
“Where is Peris?” he asked.
“He was called away to Kildunan.”
“Again? What was it this time?”
“Somethin’ about a wealthy patron and a huntin’ accident.”
That seemed curious. Rivenloch was a warrior clan, and they didn’t keep their physician as busy as did Kildunan. “Does the monastery infirmary usually have so many visitors?”
“I’m not sure.”
“But Peris is the one they call when someone arrives?”
She nodded.
“And how often does he visit Kildunan?”
“At least once a fortnight. Someone contracts a fever or twists an ankle or eats bad meat.” She narrowed her eyes. “But why so many questions about Peris? Has he done somethin’ wrong?”
“Nay. I just…” Hew could already feel the effects of the wine. It was loosening his tongue and wrecking his judgment. Perhaps it would be best to steer her aside before he revealed too much. “If I’m to stay at the monastery, I’d like to be of help. It seems like Kildunan could benefit from having their own physician.”
“Notyou?”she asked, incredulous.
The idea of him as a physician made Hew chuckle. “Nay. I’m a warrior. I do all my bloodletting with an axe.”
She arched a brow and murmured, “Ye won’t be doing any bloodlettin’ at all if ye join the order.”
He sighed. For one morose opium-addled moment, he regretted his decision to quit his warrior ways to become a monk. Then he remembered that wasn’t true. It was just a story he’d made up.
“I hope ye’re not thinkin’ o’ stealin’ Dunlop’s physician,” she said. “We need him here.”
The wine was washing away his pain. Now he was feeling quite good. Giddy even. If he wasn’t careful, he might blurt out something inappropriate. Something dangerous.
“I don’t need Peris. Not with a beautiful angel like you by my side.”
Like that.
Chapter 13
Carenza had been called “beautiful” hundreds of times.
Sometimes the word was used as a sort of currency by suitors and flatterers who wanted something for their efforts.
