Page 90 of Laird of Flint
“Don’t worry about them,” he said. “They seem to know how to stay out of harm’s way.” Then he tipped his head to whisper, “Otherwise, you’d see dozens of charred sheep by the side of the road after a storm.”
One side of her mouth quirked up at that.
“Blackened ducks by the roadside,” he added.
The other side curved up.
“And roast pigs ready for the table,” he said.
She gave him a full smile then. A smile so brilliant and warm that he almost couldn’t resist bending near and capturing her lips with his own.
But he had to resist. He had to bank the burning coals of his affection. Take his time. Temper his passion. He couldn’t afford to make mistakes. The last thing he wanted was to drive her away by scorching her in the fiery blaze of his feelings.
So he mumbled, “I’m sure Hamish is fine.” He gave her a nod of farewell before going to douse the flames of his desire with a second cup of ale.
Eventually, the weather cleared. The clouds shredded apart like wool, leaving patches of clear blue. The earth smelled ripe and mossy and fertile. And a few brave birds chirped defiantly from the woods.
The afternoon ride to the graveyard wasn’t so bad. The church was to the west, an hour’s walk away. Carenza’s palfrey was mild and easy to handle, even with one hand. Hew maintained a slow pace, riding behind most of the clanfolk, who traveled on foot. They carried offerings of bread, as well as candles, which they would light in the churchyard to help guide any lost souls and use later to guide themselves home.
Carenza and her father led the procession. The physician positioned himself in the middle, far from them and far from him. He clearly wasn’t interested in any interrogation today. Which made it even more critical that Hew keep Carenza from prying.
He expected, like a child with a clam, she would poke and prod and annoy Peris rather than gleaning any useful information. And her prodding would make him close his shell even tighter.
So Hew determined to stay close to her. He could draw her attention away if she became too inquisitive. Divert her probing questions with lighthearted commentary. Distract her when she began to cross the line of safety.
Most of the day, she prayed with her father. Not only as an example to the rest of the clan. But because he seemed grief-stricken, as if he’d lost his wife, not years ago, but yesterday. Between prayers, she patted his hand and leaned her head against his shoulder, murmuring words of comfort to him.
But Hew wondered, who comfortedher?Carenza had lost her mother. Hew couldn’t imagine what it would have been like to grow up without the love of his mother. Lady Helena was a fierce fighter, but her love was just as fierce. And the things Hew had learned about women—about their vulnerability, their strength, their hearts, their minds—he could never have learned without his mother.
The All Souls Day rituals were unfamiliar to Hew. In his clan, descended from Vikings, they celebrated Alfablot, which likewise honored their ancestors. But it was a quiet and private affair conducted in one’s household.
Nonetheless, he prayed silently for his grandfather Gellir. He’d never known the white-bearded giant. But the great warrior had been an inspiration to the Rivenloch clan.
It was nearly dark when, halfway through a prayer to Odin—for his grandfather had never much cared for the gods of the Scots, Hew glanced up to see Carenza ambling toward Peris. She whispered something to the physician. Then the two of them rounded the corner of the church, disappearing from view. He quickly ended his prayer and moved in their direction.
Halting behind the corner of the wall, just out of sight, he didn’t hear her first words, but he heard the next.
“I don’t remember much. I was so young at the time. But I do remember how ye stayed with her, day and night. How ye worked tirelessly, tryin’ to save her.”
Peris cleared his throat. “Your mother was a good woman.”
“And ye were so kind and attentive. It must have made her final hours a comfort.”
He was clearly discomfited by her praise. “I hope so,” he muttered. “’Twas hard for the laird to see her go.”
Carenza sighed. “But how much more difficult it must be for those who don’t have a carin’ physician to attend them in their final hours.”
All at once, Hew felt awkward and out of place. She obviously didn’t have an interrogation in mind. She was only sharing personal memories with her mother’s physician and thanking him for his service.
Uncomfortable and unsure what to do, Hew took a sudden keen interest in the crow perched on the top of the churchyard wall.
Then he overheard Carenza say, “But ye do that at Kildunan, don’t ye? Ye give all those wretched souls ease in their final hours.”
“’Tisn’t only me, m’lady,” the physician protested. “All the monks are there to provide comfort.”
“Och aye. But they don’t all attend a dyin’ man, do they? Is that not the purview o’ the physician and perhaps the most senior clergy?”
The sly lasswasprying. Poking her nose where it didn’t belong. But she was doing it in such a clever way, Peris couldn’t detect it. Indeed, the physician was answering her as readily as beer flowed from a tapped barrel.
