“And a nephew o’ the laird.”
Her smile grew brittle.Why was he going on and on about this Rivenloch man?A man who was the cousin of a champion and the nephew of a laird, yet somehow resided at a monastery?
“I think ye’d be quite impressed,” he said with a knowing lift of his brow.
Then she understood.He wanted her to meet him because he thought the man might make a suitable suitor.
Part of her wanted to scream.She had far too much on her mind to feign fascination with a possible future husband.
But part of her felt a tender admiration for her father.It must be difficult for him to consider marrying her off.In vulnerable moments, he’d often said she was all he had.The idea of giving her up to another man couldn’t be easy.
“Ye know,” he continued, “the Rivenlochs are one o’ the oldest border clans in service o’ the king.The oldest and the richest.Plenty o’ land.A formidable keep.And the warriors…well, if ye’d seen this one…” He shook his head in wonder.
A border warrior sounded like the sort of man Carenza despised.Violent.Overbearing.Heartless.That kind of man certainly would have no patience for a maid who rescued spiders and fed squirrels and saved coos.
Her father continued.“Ye could see the Norse in his blood.Tall he was.Golden-haired.And broad o’ shoulder.With a great battle axe that had runes carved into—”
“An axe?”she choked out.
It couldn’t be.Could it?Was this Rivenloch warrior the man she’d seen on the road?
“Aye, just like a Vikin’.”
“What was he doin’ here?”
“He and the prior had some questions for the physician.”
“What kind o’ questions?”She wondered if he’d asked Peris how best to preserve the head he was carrying about in a sack.
He shrugged.“Somethin’ about the death at the monastery last night.But that’s not important.What’s important is he’s stayin’ nearby for a while.”
Carenza could see she wasn’t going to weasel out of hosting the man for supper.It seemed she’d find out what he looked like after all.But there was one way she could both please her father and put her own heart to rest.She could manage the timing.
“I know, Da,” she said, her eyes sparkling with feigned enthusiasm.“Do ye think he’d like to celebrate Samhain with us?”
“Brilliant, lass!”he exclaimed, lighting up.“I daresay Samhain at Dunlop Castle will be a bit more…festive…than All Saints Day at the monastery.”
“Wonderful,” she said, clasping her hands together under her chin.“I look forward to meetin’ him then.”
Her father kissed her brow in farewell.
Good.For a few days at least—until Samhain—she could put her mind at ease.She could banish all thoughts of warriors and marriage and focus on what was truly important.
By nightfall, she had her plans well in hand.She managed to drift off to slumber and dreamed of happier times when Hamish was a wee calf.
Unfortunately, her dreams curdled into nightmares.She woke in the dark, gasping from a horrifying vision of a Viking with an axe chasing after her beloved coo.
She couldn’t get back to sleep after that.So she wrapped her arisaid about her and opened the shutters to stare up into the cold heavens, where stars winked through the threadbare clouds.
She’d make her move tomorrow night when the moon was full.
Once it was dark, she had to escape unnoticed from the castle.Locate the fold of cattle.Lead Hamish to his new home beyond the hills.And return without getting caught.
She sighed.The task seemed impossible.
But she had no choice.She wasn’t going to let her father kill Hamish.
The wind rose, stirring strands of her loose hair.The cold air made her eyes water.The stars, once steadfast, now blurred and shimmered, untethered and unstable, as if to show her her fate was likewise uncertain.
