“And?”
“When I saw ’twas a monk,” he mumbled, letting his eyes drift closed, “I figured someone needed…last rites or somethin’.”
That couldn’t be.No one had died at Dunlop in months.
“What happened then?”she asked.
His words were slurring badly now.“Y’ came out o’ the keep then.Took off ’cross the hills.So I thought…”
She could guess.“Ye thought the scruffy beggar was a more likely suspect.”
He nodded, sinking deeper into the pallet as his breathing slowed.
She watched him as he slipped away to the land of dreams, considering everything he had told her.Then an awful thought occurred to her.
“Ye don’tstillsuspect I’m the thief, do ye?”
But he was already asleep.
Chapter 14
Normally, All Saints Day meant that Carenza would spend several hours in the chapel, praying.Her father thought they should set a good example for the rest of the clan.Most of her devotions went to Gertrude, Cuthbert, and Modestos, the Saints who loved and protected animals.
But she was admittedly relieved when, shortly after dawn, the physician was called back to Kildunan and she had to take over Hew’s care again.It meant she’d have an excuse to avoid kneeling in the chapel all day.It also meant she could learn more about this secret mission of Hew’s.
As she strode along the corridor to where Hew was sleeping, she promised God she’d pray extra hard for the Saints on the next Sabbath.
The bells of terce tolled in the distance.She quietly entered the chamber, bearing a linen cloth stuffed with oatcakes.
Hew was still dozing.
His bare arms, atop the coverlet, looked less red now.Perhaps they were healing.
Below the coverlet, his chest rose and fell.His breath cut through the silence like a carpenter sawing through wood.
A smile tugged at her lips.She wondered if he always snored like that or if it was only the medicine making him sleep so deeply.
She almost hated to wake him.But it was time for another portion of wine.He should eat something as well.And most important, Carenza needed to find out if she was a suspect in the Kildunan crime.
She placed the bundle of oatcakes on the table.Crossing to the hearth, she stirred the embers to life and placed several more chunks of peat on top.
By the time the fire was blazing cheerily along, Hew had roused.
“Good morn,” she said as she mixed his opium-laced wine.
He grunted.
She could see he was in a foul mood.It would be best to placate him first before diving into the deep waters of interrogation.
“Your arms look better already.”They looked magnificent, if she were being honest, though she wasn’t going to say that.“But ye need to break your fast.Ye haven’t eaten enough to keep a flea alive.”She loosened the knot on the bundle of oatcakes.
He winced.“I need—”
“I know.Ye need your medicine.But ’tis best taken on a full belly.”She offered him an oatcake.
“Nay,” he said, turning his head away.“First I need—”
“Come, be a good lad,” she said, waving the oatcake in front of his face like a taunt.“I promise I’ll give ye the wine as soon as ye—”
