Page 87 of Laird of Flint
She was not some helpless damsel in distress who needed a big, strong Viking warrior to rescue her. He had no authority over her. She need not abide by his wishes. Shewouldinvestigate the thefts. Shewouldquestion Peris. And if he didn’t like it, he could mince off to the monastery and join the other monks who were hiding from the world.
“I should be goin’,” she murmured.
“Going? Where? ’Tis the middle of the night.”
“’Tis All Souls Day.”
“I doubt the souls will mind waiting in the graveyard at least until dawn.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not tired. I slept enough fortwodays. Besides, ’tis always a difficult day for my Da. He still mourns my Ma.”
Hew nodded and sighed. “’Tis hard to lose someone you love.”
She wondered at that. Hew was yet a young man. What would he know about love and loss?
“Shall I leave ye the cheese?” she asked.
“Aye, thank you.”
She started toward the door, then remembered. “I think ye’re safe with Peris now.”
“I’m done with opium anyway.” He added softly, “But I think I would prefer your tender care anyway.”
She bit her cheek, annoyed. What game was he playing? Aloof and distancing one moment? Warm and inviting the next?
She faked a smile of apology. “I really need to look after my father today.”
He nodded.
She almost made it to the door before he said, “You won’t do anything foolish like question the physician, right?”
She scoffed. “Don’t be daft.”
Damn. That was exactly what she meant to do. In fact, she’d thought of a way to squeeze the information from Peris as easily as getting milk from a coo.
Of course she wasn’t going to tell Hew that. But he’d thank her later when she single-handedly uncovered the second thief.
The door closed.
Hew frowned.
Don’t be daft,she’d said. That wasn’t the answer he wanted. He expected something more reassuring.
LikeO’ course I won’t do such an unwise thing.
OrNay, ye’re right, ’tis too dangerous for a woman.
OrWhy would I do that when I’ve got a strong, noble, chivalrous Rivenloch warrior at my beck and call?
But nay, she’d left him completely without assurance.
And the more he thought about it, the more he worried that was exactly what she meant to do.
He popped the last bit of cheese into his mouth and threw aside the coverlet. His arms still burned, and he’d needed to change the bandage on his hand. But he couldn’t afford to waste another day drowsing in the laird’s bedchamber. Treachery was afoot. And The Woman He Loved was in peril.
Chapter 16
While Carenza freshened up in the solar, she considered the identity of the second thief.
