Carenza smiled and tossed a stick for Troye.The hound galloped off across the grass toward the crumbled and rotting byre, scattering dewdrops in his wake.
It was so much more convenient having Hew stay at the castle.He was delightful company at supper.Inspiring to watch on the practice field as he battled alongside the Dunlop warriors.A joy with whom she planned to share the spring arrivals of hedgepiglets and fox cubs, squirrel kits and hares.
Best of all, now that Hew no longer had to keep up the fiction of aspiring to the church, he could begin courting her in earnest.He accompanied her to the village each week.Helped her father distribute gifts to the crofters.Rode with her across the countryside, making plans for the expansion of Dunlop once they were wed.
Of course, they still had to tryst in secret.The laird would have been mortified to discover his beloved daughter was not as lily-pure as he imagined.
But now that they’d made the mental commitment, it seemed ludicrous to waste weeks awaiting the king’s permission when they could be enjoying each other’s company.
Thankfully, they found ample opportunity.And soon it would be spring.So Carenza took small expeditions like this one with Troye to discover new locations in nature where she and Hew might eventually sample the wonders of the outdoors—in the crook of a tree, behind a thicket, in a fern-draped cave.
Troye came trotting back with the stick.
“Good lad,” she said, patting his head.Then she turned and tossed it blindly in the other direction.
It didn’t fly far.Hew had stolen up on her.It sailed about five yards to hit him smack in the middle of the chest.
As if that weren’t enough of an insult, Troye lunged at the stick and nearly knocked Hew over.
“Troye!”Carenza scolded.
But she needn’t have fretted.The Viking was as strong and steady as an oak.He was already laughing and scrubbing at the hound’s face in good humor.
“Your da is looking for you,” he said when he could take a breath.“Something about a missive.”
She shrugged.A missive didn’t sound so important.Not when she was alone with the one she loved in a beautiful sun-pierced glen.
“I’m sure it can wait,” she purred.
He arched a chiding brow at her.“Do you think?”
She sidled up to him and walked her fingers slowly up the middle of his leine.“I do.And furthermore, I think I have just the thing to—”
Her words were interrupting by a sharp crack of thunder.
She gasped and clung tight to him.
In the next instant, the heavens opened.Fat drops of rain cascaded down over them.
She shrieked.
He seized her hand and pulled her along with him toward the abandoned byre.Troye dropped his stick and frolicked after them, thinking this was a new game.
By the time they ducked under the moss-covered timbers, they were already soaked.They huddled together at the open side of the byre while Troye ranged back and forth, barking at the rain.
The Laird of Rivenloch wore a Thor’s hammer pendant to show her Viking bloodright.But at the moment, for Hew, the god of thunder seemed like a nemesis.
He hadn’t had a moment alone with Carenza for days.Not since he’d made love to her in the moonlit shadows of the solar at midnight, nearly a sennight ago.And now the storm was conspiring against him, raising its wicked head to hamper his courting.
Their coupling that night had been magical.They’d soared through the heavens together, beating the air on silent wings of angels, singing a song only God could hear.
And afterwards, as they’d lain in each other’s arms, gazing up at the jeweled firmament, one of the sparkling stars had happened to break free to streak across the sky like destiny’s messenger.
They’d held their breath.He’d made a wish.And without uttering a word, he’d known.She’d wished for the same thing.
A lifetime together.
He’d written the missives that very night.Sent one to his cousin Feiyan and one to his aunt, Laird Deirdre.He no longer had the patience to wait for King Malcolm.He would obtain permission for the match from the Laird of Rivenloch instead and leave it in her capable hands to secure the king’s approval.
