The abbot gave his white-tonsured head a dubious shake, but mumbled, “I suppose ye know what ye’re doin’.”
Just then a sharp and piercing wail came from across the yard.
The abbot frowned in concern.
But warrior Hew’s instincts kicked in first.He bolted forward, leading the way toward the sound, wishing he’d brought his axe.
As it turned out, there was no need for a weapon.One of the young novices had simply tripped over his robes in the dark passage.He’d fallen and broken his arm.
It was severe enough that the prior decided the lad would need the services of the physician from Dunlop.
Carenza woke with a silent scream stuck in her throat.Her heart pounded like a fuller’s mill.She’d had the chilling nightmare again, the one where the Viking of Rivenloch was chasing after Hamish with his great axe.Only this time, since she’d met the warrior face-to-face and hefted his formidable weapon herself, the details were far more vivid.
“’Tis only a dream,” she rasped out, repeating it thrice to convince herself.
She rattled her head, still clouded with cobwebs.She felt as if she’d lain awake all night.But she could see light through the shutters.She had to rise at her usual time if she didn’t wish to arouse suspicion.
Her eyes burned, her muscles ached, and her head throbbed.Still, her father would expect her to break her fast with the clan.And Troye the hound would expect his usual scraps.So she staggered out of bed and splashed water on her face, shivering as the icy drops shocked her awake.
She chose her rose-colored surcoat.The one her da liked so well.The one that would best disguise her sleepless pallor.Then she quickly braided her hair into two plaits, fastening them with the new ribbon she’d bought in the village.
She pinched her cheeks to give them some color and dabbed a generous amount of rosewater onto her skin to hide any lingering scent of cattle.
Her main task today was to act oblivious.To be her own cheery self.To behave as if nothing unusual had happened.And to be completely dumbfounded and appalled when it was discovered that a cateran had stolen one of her father’s coos.
Emerging from her chamber and down into the great hall, however, she realized it was later than she thought.The castle folk were already finishing up their ale and oatcakes and leaving to do their chores.
Meanwhile, the Boyle brothers had been discovered and freed from their bonds.They stood in the midst of the hall.Red-faced with indignant fury, they gesticulated wildly, explaining to her glowering father what had happened.
Her first instinct was to hide, to retreat up the stairs and tuck back under her coverlet until they were gone.
Then she reminded herself they had no idea she was the cateran.In their minds, the laird’s daughter had likely spent a peaceful night slumbering in furs and dreaming of faeries.
So she glided forward with her usual serene smile and placed a hand upon her father’s sleeve.
“What’s happened, Da?”
“Naught to worry ye,” he said, patting her hand.
But Gilbert Boyle was eager to impress her.“Caterans stole a Dunlop coo, m’lady.”
“Sweet Mary!”Carenza exclaimed, pressing a hand to her bosom.
Herbert chimed in, “Lucky we were watchin’ o’er the fold, or it might have been more.”
“Ye were watching o’er the fold?”she asked.
“Aye,” Gilbert said, puffing out his chest to explain, “’Tis the neighborly thing to do.”
“We would have caught the filthy dastards too,” Herbert boasted.“But they outnumbered us.”
Carenza’s brows shot up.
“Aye,” Gilbert agreed.“And they had an arsenal o’ weapons.”
“Faith!”Carenza bit her twitching lip.“How…how many were there?”
“Dozens,” Gilbert said.
