“I told ye before, Da, he’s bound for the church.”
“’Twasn’t brotherly reverence I saw in his eyes when he looked at ye at supper tonight.”
“Da!”
“And ’tisn’t virtuous piety I see in yours when ye look at him.”
She gasped, glancing about to see if anyone else had heard his frank words.Then she spoke between clenched teeth.“Be cautious, Father, lest ye draw the evil spirits near tonight.”
He leaned toward her and whispered, “Those are bats.”
She sighed.Ofcoursehe realized they were bats.He might believe he could commune with his dead wife on Samhain.But he was as driven by truth as she was.
“Anyway,” she said, “I’m sure the monastery is keeping him busy with…” Whatdidmonks do all day?“Prayin’ and chantin’ and…and takin’ vows o’ silence.”
He made no comment on her obvious contradiction.“Ye won’t discourage him, though, will ye?”
“From the church?”she asked, intentionally misunderstanding him.“O’ course not.”She crossed herself for good measure.
“From pursuin’ ye.”
“Ye’ve seen me, Da.”She fluttered her lashes.“I’ve been nothing but gracious and welcomin’.”
That he couldn’t argue with.Mostly because he hadn’t seen her threatening to let the man fall into a crevasse to his death.
He tried once more to convince her.“He really would make a good match, Carenza.And ye know how I am about these things.”
He might be intuitive about others.But about her?He was as blind as the bats circling over the bonfire.She no more belonged with a wild and reckless warrior than a kitten belonged with a hound.
“He suits ye,” he continued.“I sense deep honor in him.Integrity.A love o’ justice.A good mind.And a good heart.He would make a fine husband.A fine father.The son your mother and I ne’er—”
His litany of praises was cut off abruptly when “the son he’d ne’er had” bowled violently into him, sending the laird tumbling away from the fire to sprawl in an undignified tangle of plaids and arisaids and clanfolk.
Chapter 12
Hew’s heart beat like the wings of a trapped falcon.Faster and harder than it ever had for Gormal, Anne, or any of his past lovers.It slammed painfully against his ribs as he turned to Carenza with purpose in his furrowed brows.
There was no time for tact.
He lunged toward her.Seized her about the waist.Heaved her up over one shoulder.And packed her off like his Viking forefathers packing off the spoils of war.
At a safe distance from the bonfire, he lowered her gently but swiftly to the damp sod.
She gazed up at him in startled shock, unaware of the peril.
But Hew had spotted it at once.Whipped up by the wind, the flames of the bonfire had leaped onto Carenza’s gown.They’d begun to greedily consume her leine and lap at the edges of her arisaid.
He started beating at the fiery fabric with his bare hands.Trying to extinguish the destructive flames.Scarcely noticing the heat.
From afar, the laird—seeing only a warrior attacking his daughter—cried out, “What the devil?Unhand her, sirrah!”
But those closer to Hew slowly realized what had happened.Gasps of concern rose around him.
Finally Carenza sat up, shrieking when she saw she was ablaze.She thrashed.Kicked.Tried to squirm away.Which would only make it worse.
“Nay!”he roared.
He forced her down with one hand and held her there.With his other sleeve, he fought to smother the fire.
