Hew settled down onto the hard ground to wait.
For Carenza, the full moon and the cloudless sky were both a blessing and a curse.The light would help her find her way across the courtyard, out of the castle, and over the hills.It would also leave her visible—and vulnerable—to anyone else who happened to venture forth on the clear, crisp night.
But too much misgiving spawned cowardice.And Carenza was not a coward.Besides, she’d gone too far to turn back now.
Still, before she committed to the challenging journey, she had to finish one less complicated task.
Entering the shadowy garden, she crouched between the apple trees, juggling the pair of squirming hedgepigs in her hands.
“Winter’s comin’,” she explained in a whisper, “and I can’t hide ye in my chamber anymore.Ye’ve got to go on now and make your own cozy nests.”
She set Blancmange and Pokerounce down in the soft mulch, just a few feet away from the garden wall, where she’d left a jumbled stash of willow twigs.To her simultaneous dismay and relief, they toddled off without a backward glance, eager to investigate.
Letting her animal wards go was always bittersweet.But Carenza was under no illusions.They were not hers to own.None of them were.
As she watched them waddle away, she felt a twinge of envy.They were on their own now.Free.
The only way Carenza could be free to roam where she willed was if she did it behind her father’s back.Which was why she’d been reduced to sneaking out like this in the middle of the night.
She understood his protectiveness.He didn’t want to lose her.He needed her to be his adoring daughter.To bring him light and laughter when the world grew too dark.To be the dutiful lass who fulfilled all his hopes and expectations.The compliant young lady he would one day surrender to another man.A man to whom she’d become an adoring wife.
She would always be some man’s pet, she supposed.Such was the fate of a laird’s daughter.
Still, she longed for more.
And she couldn’t help but feel spoiled and selfish for wanting that.
After all, she lived in luxury.She was well-fed.Well-dressed.Bedecked with jewels.Blessed with good health.Spoiled by servants and tutors.Provided with entertainments.Given all she desired.
Perhaps being a man’s pet wasn’t so bad.A pet was beloved.Well cared for.Treasured.As long as Carenza stayed obediently on her leash and didn’t bite, she would always be protected and cherished.
Why then did the prospect of being kept in luxurious captivity depress her so?
She sighed heavily, making a soft mist in the chill air.
She gazed up toward her father’s window.She certainly wasn’t staying on her leash tonight.Fortunately, the laird was asleep.His window was shuttered.If all went well, he’d never learn about her midnight adventure.
As she eased open the garden gate, she saw movement beyond it.She froze.Someone was striding across the courtyard.
She narrowed her eyes.It was a monk.What was he doing here?
She watched as he headed toward the keep and was let inside.Perhaps someone in the clan was ill and had summoned him—for prayers, a blessing, or to administer last rites.She was just grateful she’d lingered in the garden.The last person she needed to encounter on her sinful enterprise was a man of the cloth.
She shivered.
Not from the chill in the air.She was well protected from the cold.Her bulky garments made a thick if unwieldy barrier against the weather.She’d thrown an old plaid over her shoulder.If anyone spotted her at a distance, they’d assume she was a short, stout, crusty old fellow.
Nay, she shivered because, of all the clandestine excursions she’d made under the laird’s nose, this was the most daring.The most perilous.And the most illicit.
Lifting her eyes to the barbican, she saw the guard slumped against the wall.She wasn’t proud of the fact she’d fortified his beer with aqua vitae at supper.But the strong drink assured he’d sleep for the rest of the night.Plenty of time for her to slip in and out of the castle unnoticed.
Still, her heart pounded with trepidation and excitement as she passed through the barbican gate and hiked down the slope.She wondered if this was how the hedgepigs felt, released into the wild.
It was a long trudge over several hills to where the coos slumbered for the night.But Carenza wasn’t afraid.She knew about the wild animals that roamed the countryside in the dark at this time of the year.
The only danger she might face was a pack of wolves.And they would generally rather pick on small, timid prey.Not full-grown coos with sharp horns.And not someone who looked like a substantial, barrel-shaped crofter, tramping boldly over the hillocks.
She took large, confident strides across the grazed slopes.Despite the warmth of her makeshift garb, it was heavy, and her labored breath made frosty curls in the air.
