Page 96 of Laird of Flint
“Just as the rat-catcher was about to trap my poor Twinkle in his bucket, ye said, ‘Allow me,’ and ye raised your axe.”
He furrowed worried brows and lowered his spoon. This had turned grim. Also, it didn’t seem the best tale for breaking one’s fast.
“And then ye turned it round backwards,” she said with a grin, “and knocked the rat-catcher’s bucket right out the window.”
Her laughter was delightful and contagious. Even if her dream was the silliest thing he’d ever heard.
After she was done laughing, she gazed at him with adoring eyes. “Ye came to my rescue and saved my precious Twinkle.”
Hew had never felt more like someone’s hero. The way she looked at him. With warmth. And humor. And companionship. It was far more attractive—and dangerous—than the voracious glances women usually sent his way.
But how long would she look at him like that? Would her affection fade with time?
“For that, my brave knight,” she murmured, “I shall someday reward ye.” Her violet eyes simultaneously sparkled with amusement and shone with sultry promise.
Already he could feel his heart softening and melting and becoming vulnerable. She held it in the palm of her hand, like a fragile egg. If he wasn’t careful, when she ultimately broke it, there would be nothing left but the shattered shell of a man languishing in a puddle of despair.
Carenza couldn’t stop singing this morn. She rose at dawn and flitted from task to task like a happy butterfly visiting primroses.
After her curious dream, she’d given Twinkle an extra portion of her frumenty and reassured him that the rat-catcher wouldn’t be visiting.
Then she’d brought Hew his breakfast.
Gazing down at him as he slept—with his mussed hair, his closed eyes, his open mouth—she’d imagined waking to that face each morn. And decided she liked the idea. Nay, shelovedthe idea. His was a countenance she’d never tire of admiring, even if it was accompanied by a snore loud enough to wake the dead.
She’d been tempted to stop that snore with a kiss.
But here in the great hall of Dunlop, she was the laird’s daughter. Demure. Polite. Respectable.
Later she’d find a place where they could be alone, for she wanted to savor the thrill of his embrace again.
So she settled for slipping a few smoldering glances into her conversation, an extra morsel of breakfast for him to chew on.
Meanwhile, she went about her schedule. She slipped scraps to Troye behind the stable. Left several cherries atop the castle wall for the resident crows. Checked in on her pair of hibernating hedgepigs, huddled in their nest in the garden. Let the squirrel tug a stale oatcake from her fingers. And gave Hamish a good, long scratch behind the ears.
By the time she was done, her father was preparing to leave. Yesterday’s lightning had struck one of the byres on the Boyle clan’s land, so the laird and several Dunlop men were going to offer neighborly help. At least that was his story. She secretly suspected the men were only curious to see the storm damage. But the physician was going with them, so Carenza would be in charge of Hew’s care. Which gave her an idea. A way she might forward her plan to get him alone.
It wasn’t a moment too soon when she found him. He was seated by the hearth, frowning and picking at his bandage.
“Sir Hew o’ Rivenloch,” she mock-scolded him. “Just what do ye think ye’re doin’?”
“Nothing,” he said, abandoning his pursuit. “I’m just…restless.”
She sat down beside him. It was probably torture for a warrior to be so inactive. Why he thought he could ever endure the tedium of being a monk, she couldn’t imagine.
“What would ye be doin’ if ye weren’t injured?”
“I would have gone with your father,” he sulked. “Been of some use.”
“I doubt any o’ them are goin’ to be of use. They’ve only gone to gloat o’er the charred remains of Boyle’s barn. Still…” She lifted his bandaged hand and studied it. “Ye might be healin’ faster than ye think. Let’s see how this looks. Come with me to the solar where the light is better. I’ll change the bandage and—”
“Where’s Peris?” he asked in surprise.
“He went with my father.”
Hew let out a vexed sigh, which crushed her momentarily until he followed up with, “I was hopin’ to question him.”
“Ah. Well, ’twill have to wait.”
