“Och, aye.Good plan.Peris can take the invitation.”
Returning to her chamber, she scribbled out a hasty missive.Her father would have found her sloppy hand atrocious, considering the small fortune he’d spent on her education.It said simply,Rivenloch – Purchase hay.Come to Samhain supper.Lady Carenza.
She squinted at the words.Would he think he was to bring hay for supper?
No matter.There wasn’t time to rewrite the note.Besides, the warrior would assume someone else had penned the missive for her.Her ability to read and write was a rare talent in a woman.
She tucked the note into a purse with the silver she’d promised him and gave it to the physician to deliver.
Aside from struggling to stay awake, the rest of Carenza’s day was fairly ordinary.
She stitched a row of daisies along the hem of a coif.Took Troye the hound out for a game of fetch the stick.Played chess with her father.Left crumbs for her usual menagerie of pets.Sent lads out to gather wood for the Samhain bonfire.And recited the tale of Beira, the goddess of winter, to a group of wee children.
By supper, she began to flag.She fought to keep her eyes open, fearful she might fall face first into her pottage.
But when Cainnech the cooherd approached the laird after supper, she grew instantly alert.
“’Tis my fault,” he said to the laird.“I should have been watchin’ o’er the fold.”
“Nay.”Her father put a hand on Cainnech’s shoulder.“’Twas a scheme by the Boyles.I’m sure of it.They’ll miraculously ‘recover’ the coo in a day or two and expect to be rewarded for their efforts.”
Carenza gulped.She’d forgotten.If Hamish never returned, poor Cainnech would hold himself accountable.
“But ye won’t do that, will ye, m’laird?”Cainnech asked, glancing pointedly at Carenza.“Ye won’t reward them?”
“Hardly,” the laird said, arching his brow at her.
“Good.”
Inside, Carenza bristled at the idea of the two men discussing her as a reward.But she dared not betray her affront.She gave her father an indulgent smile instead.
Then, hiding a yawn behind her hand, she wondered how soon she could steal off to bed without arousing suspicion.
The door of the great hall suddenly opened, letting in a breath of fog along with the physician, returned from the monastery.
He looked concerned as he rushed forward through the throng.
“M’laird, I fear I have unwelcome news.”
“The lad’s arm,” her father said on a sigh.“Was it beyond repair then?”
“Nay, ’tis splinted.”
Carenza guessed, “Rivenloch refused the invitation?”
It wouldn’t surprise her.She’d told him her father’s intentions.He certainly wouldn’t want to waste the laird’s time wooing her if he meant to take holy vows.
“Nay.He said he’d come.”
Her father frowned at her.“Now why would ye think he’d refuse?He’s a healthy man in need of a wife.And ye’re the loveliest eligible lass in the Highlands.”
“Och, Da,” she chided, squeezing his arm with affection.
“’Tis somethin’ I saw at the monastery,” the physician said.
“What is it?”the laird asked.
“They’ve got a coo in the cloister, one that wasn’t there before, and I’d swear its ear was notched with the Dunlop mark.”
