“How much for the beast?”he blurted out.
“What do ye mean?”the laird asked.
“How much would you take for it?”
The laird blinked.“Ye wish to purchase it.”
“Aye.”
The tightfisted prior scoffed.He had an opinion on that.“We can’t keep a coo.”
The abbot lay a hand on the prior’s forearm, probably envisioning months’ worth of roasts in his future.“If Sir Hew wishes to purchase the animal, who are we to argue with his generosity?”
“How much, my laird?”Hew repeated.
The laird gave him a figure, far less than the beast was worth, perhaps thinking to endear himself to the powerful Rivenloch clan.
“Here is double that,” Hew said, handing over his purse to the laird.
“Double?”the laird exclaimed.“Ye’re certain ye want to do that?”
“Aye.”
One glimpse of Carenza’s relieved smile made it all worthwhile.
It was hours later—watching Hamish in the midst of a diminishing pile of hay and increasing piles of coo shairn—that he realized he was now the proud owner of a beast about which he knew almost nothing.
Chapter 10
It had taken all Carenza’s willpower not to rush up to Hamish this morn and rest her cheek against his shaggy head.She hadn’t realized how much she would miss him.But she was grateful he was at least safe.And alive.
She still couldn’t believe how the Rivenloch warrior had explained his way out of an impossible situation.He’d not only emerged the hero of the story, but he’d silenced the smug Boyles as well.He definitely had a gift for deception.
Of course, if he wished to join the monastic order, he’d have to curb his deceitful ways.
She took another bite of salmon and leeks.It was her favorite meal, and there was always an abundance of salmon in the nearby river.Why the clan couldn’t do without roasts made of her four-legged friends when fish was freely available, she didn’t understand.
Her father suddenly narrowed critical eyes at her.He used the corner of his table linen to wipe a spot of sauce from her chin.
“Can’t have ye dribblin’ like a bairn at supper on the morrow, aye?”he chided.“Not with a warrior o’ Rivenloch at the table.”
She managed to give him a gracious smile, despite his lighthearted ribbing.He smiled back, unaware of how his penchant for perfectionism affected her.
It didn’t matter anyway.The Rivenloch warrior didn’t intend to court her.She could spill frumenty down her leine, dip her braids in her pottage, and lick her fingers, and, as a monk, he’d be obliged to overlook her sins.
“’Twas generous o’ the man to buy our coo,” her father said.
“Aye.”
“Though if he’d waited, I might have given it to him as a dowry,” he added.
“Da!”she scolded.
He chuckled.
She shook her head.“I’m afraid ye’re in for a disappointment.He’s not interested in me.”
Her father laughed so hard at that, he choked on a leek and had to take a sip of ale.“Och, darlin’, the day a man isn’t interested in ye will be the day the sun rises in the west.”
