by Terry Spear
Matilda took a deep breath, her shoulders sagging. “Uncle Edgar Atheling is siding with Robert.”
“Nay, he cannot do that! What does His Grace think?”
“Edgar would have been king of England had William of Normandy not invaded. Edgar had been too young to fight back at the time.”
“Aye.” How different would things have been had the Normans not taken over? But if Robert were able to wrest power away from Henry, then what would happen? To Matilda? To her? To any of those who were loyal to Henry?
Matilda motioned to the bed. “The physician says you must rest, and I insist you obey.”
Anice wrinkled her brow, curtsied, then climbed into bed.
“I will visit with you later.”
“Your Grace,” Anice said.
A servant closed the door after the queen’s exodus. Mai fussed with Anice’s bedcovers, the top...a blue cotton quilt brought back from the Middle East by one of the knights during the Crusades and given as a gift to the royal family, had kept Anice warm on the cool nights.
Mai pulled the quilt beneath Anice’s chin. “I told you that you should have stayed in bed. Here Her Grace has to go and tell you, too. But as to another matter, I could not believe Laird MacNeill had the bullheadedness to carry you up to the chamber.”
Anice clenched the quilt in her fists. “You have told me this repeatedly, Mai. Please dinna bring it up again.”
“He wouldna leave either. I thought I would have to call the guard. Black-hearted knave.”
Anice stared at Mai. “You said it was because he wished to see if I needed anything more.” She unclenched her hands and smoothed out the quilt. “‘Twas a kind gesture, naught more.”
“Och. The laird should not have carried you to your room, then stared at you like that.”
Anice frowned, not liking the implication. Was he thinking what it would be like to bed the Scotswoman? The very idea. Yet, the notion forced a flood of warmth to invade her. He’d already had his hands upon her naked skin where they should never have been. What would it be like to lay with such a brawny figure naked under the linens, making love?
“He stared like what?” Anice asked, gruffly.
“I should not say.”
“You have already said quite enough about the matter when I have warned you to say nay more. What are you no’ saying this time?”
“‘Tis that he would not let any servant carry you, so it gave the impression that...” Mai plumped the pillows, but didn’t finish her sentence.
“That what?” Anice’s blood began to stir. He had felt terrible for upsetting her. For causing her to faint, nothing else. Why would anyone make anything more of his concern?
“Well, others say—not me, mind you—but others say he has taken a fancy to you.”
“That is absurd. He wishes an English lady.”
“Aye, but you heard Queen Matilda. His Grace does not want the MacNeills to wed English ladies on the queen’s staff. Now he is having the Highlanders work for you. Tongues wag, milady. Many are wagering one of the brothers will ask you for your hand in marriage once the Highlanders realize they have nay chance to wed an Englishwoman of nobility.”
To think Anice had even considered the possibility of charming one of the Highlanders to whisk her away to her castle and keep her safe. The very idea that one of the MacNeills would marry her as second choice when they could not have their first. She folded her arms. “They should have bet whether I would take the gentleman up on his offer.”
Mai’s cheeks reddened.
Anice shook her head, infuriated that the courtiers had nothing better to do than place wagers on her marital status. “And? You are not usually like this, Mai...careful about what you say. Come out with it.”
Mai cleared her throat, then fussed some more with the bed linens. “The rumor you wish to marry a Highlander is well known. I believe many are betting that should one of the MacNeills offer a proposal of marriage, you would accept. Of course, His Grace will still have to approve, and this will be the biggest mountain the two of you will have to traverse.”
“That is saying that I do indeed want any of these Highlander scoundrels. Further that any of them would stoop so low as to wish a Scottish bride.” She gritted her teeth and again clenched her fists. “I will not miss the evening meal. Wake me in plenty of time.”
“But, milady, the queen said—”
“Both His Grace and the queen will be pleased to see I have made such a miraculous recovery. Wake me, Mai, after I have had this not needed sleep I am being forced to take.”
* * *
The padding of leather crunching on rushes woke Anice some hours later. She sat up in bed, not believing she could really have slept all that time, let alone even a moment.
Mai quirked a brow at her.
Anice shrugged. “My eyes wearied. I rested them a moment.”
“Aye, ‘tis nearly sunset, milady.” The woman’s lips turned up slightly.
“It must have been close to this when I lay down then.” Anice knew it hadn’t been. Still she couldn’t give her lady-in-waiting satisfaction in saying she told her so.
Though the king’s physician had told Anice to stay in her chambers for the evening meal, she merely took his words as a kindly gesture. She intended to eat with the rest of the courtiers to prove she was fit to travel on the morrow. Furthermore, she had no intention of letting the English think she wilted like a rose plucked from the soil at the first hint of ill news. Nor would the word about her staff deter her from facing her problems.
With her head held high, she and Mai returned to the great hall. When she spied the same two MacNeill brothers standing beside her usual seat, her resolve plummeted.
Mai whispered, “The Highlanders have taken up residence next to where you always sit, milady. Would you prefer some other arrangement?”
The two brothers watched her as if they’d spotted a deer on the hunt for the taking. Though she’d have preferred sitting anywhere else this eve, how would she be able to assume her role as their mistress if she couldn’t even sit beside them at a meal?
Even now, her hesitation caused a stir. Several watched her, the room grew hushed, and whispered words, small smiles, and nods of heads, greeted her.
“Milady, where did you wish to sit?” Mai spoke more urgently now, designed to nudge Anice into making a decision.
Anice straightened her shoulders and headed for Laird MacNeill. “We shall sit where we always do, Mai.”
“Aye, milady,” her maid muttered under her breath, her voice not entirely pleased.
Across the hall, Laird MacNeill spoke to his younger brother, who responded with a smile and a nod.
She wished she could hear his words. Did he tell his brother how he knew the lady would want his company at the meal? That she still sought being near them, as she wished having a Scottish laird for a husband?
She harrumphed under her breath. Mai glanced at her, but Anice wouldn’t let on what she was thinking.
“Milady.” Malcolm bowed most courteously when she approached him, attempting to rectify his status with her. The Lady Anice was uncommonly beautiful, with her full pink lips pursed in a pout, and her green eyes now downcast, watching her feet, not him. ‘Twas the reaction she had in drawing nearer that fascinated him most. Her pert breasts rose with her quickened breath, and her peach-colored cheeks turned rosy. She avoided his gaze, concentrating instead on the bench. Her choice to sit beside him gladdened him, though he’d noticed her hesitation. Now he could apologize to her and make amends. After all, if he were to work for her, he wished to take care of business in an amenable way.
“Laird MacNeill.” Anice’s eyes caught his for an instant, then she curtsied. She turned to his brother, and they greeted each other in the same fashion.
Before Malcolm could say anything, the king and queen walked into the great hall. Conversation ceased as the courtiers showed their respect.
Once all were seated, Malcolm faced the lass.
“Lady Anice, I beg your forgiveness for having upset you.”
“I accept your apology, milaird,” she quickly said, as if another word of the matter would undo her fragile composure.
Wishing to air his concern, Malcolm wanted to reassure her he’d had no intention of upsetting her earlier. “I did not realize you knew naught about the happenings at your castle.”
She turned away from him.
He took a deep breath, not sure how to handle the situation any better. On the battlefield, he had no difficulty. The lady proved to be more than he bargained for. If he were to work for her, he had to learn how to manage the willful lass better. “I am sorry if I have again upset you.”
“Nay, the matter is upsetting, but no’ because of you. ‘Tis a situation I will have to rectify quickly however.”
Her words were spoken softly without malice, but it was the content of her conversation that troubled him. Was the woman mad? He and his brothers were well qualified to take on the positions given them. No lady needed to attend to such matters, nor would he wish her interference. What if the situation turned dangerous? The lady would not be harmed on his watch. “My brothers and I will take care of it.”
Her green eyes flashed in anger. “’Tis my castle.” Already her voice had raised a notch.
“Aye.” Malcolm clenched his teeth. The woman proved impossible to deal with, but he had every intention of taking care of her affairs as quickly as possible to assess the damage done and determine what had become of her staff. He certainly could not have a woman, who was so easily indisposed, in harm’s way.
But if she felt comforted by the notion she was in charge—though it ground on his sense of pride to have to acquiesce—he would placate her. Word would get back to their king about how well he and his brothers had accomplished the mission. Then His Grace in all his wisdom would look favorably upon granting them the right to marry English ladies.
Anice poked her spoon into her boor in brasey and pushed the pork down into the broth. Breadcrumbs, currants, and onions floated to the top.
“Can you tell me anything about these men?” It didn’t hurt to begin his investigation early while she played in her food.
“They have disappeared, so I have been told.” She lifted a spoonful of broth to her lips and turned to him.
He closed his gaping mouth. Was she being difficult because she had not selected his brothers and him to take over the positions? Or did having to leave the king’s castle after having just arrived, disappoint her? After all, living in the royal household afforded luxuries lesser lairds’ castles held not.
He rubbed his chin. No, she’d been trying to leave before she’d even learned of the calamity at her castle. What on earth had that been all about then?
“Lady Anice, earlier today you tried to take your horse from the stables and depart. I thought you had learned of the troubles at your castle, but apparently, this was not the case. So that leads me to ask why did you try to leave?”
“You have already stated the punishment you would mete out for such a rash action. Now you ask what caused that behavior?” She tsked. “A good laird finds out the extenuating circumstances before pronouncing punishment for the crime.”
Malcolm’s stomach tightened. What infuriated him most was the lass spoke the truth. “I spoke rashly before, milady. I concede you are right. So what extenuating circumstances caused you to attempt to leave the grounds without the king’s permission and proper escort?”
She raised one brow. “Do you wish to judge me?”
The woman was maddening!
He calmed his thoughts before he spoke. “Nay, milady. I wish to know better so I may serve you more aptly.”
“Aye, I see. Methinks you are most honorable, but ‘tis not your concern.”
Just her tone of voice said mockingly gave him pause. She did not think him an honorable man, rather one who should mind his own business. Infuriating! To think when first he glimpsed the lass he’d had any interest in her! Best to leave the wench to her own secrets and he to his. He would accomplish the job he was commanded to do by His Grace and no more. He would have his English bride. The laird who took Anice for his wife would no doubt wonder whatever possessed him to ask her hand in marriage.
“My thanks, milady, for your kind words.” He wasn’t sure what overcame him to say the next words out of his mouth, but as soon as he said them, he knew there’d be trouble. “Then you will not mind if I ask His Grace to permit you to stay longer. You have traveled all this way and have only been here two days. Nay sense in you returning so soon. My brothers and I will—”
He quit speaking as soon as her green eyes darkened with fury, her cheeks burned bright as ripened, red tomatoes, and her mouth pursed with great restraint. He should have rested his tongue once she’d given her false compliment and he’d returned the same. So why did he not heed his own concern?
He desired to know why she’d tried to leave the castle grounds...that’s why. One way or another, he’d learn the truth.
But for now, he judiciously clamped his mouth shut and waited for the explosion to follow.
Chapter Three
Anice glared at Malcolm MacNeill. How dare the Highlander presume to tell the king what to do concerning her disposition? How dare he! “Who do you think you are telling His Grace what I should do?”
“Milady,” Malcolm quickly said, “I would not presume to tell His Grace anything. I would only suggest—”
“If you suggested something to that affect, Laird MacNeill, you can just—”
Mai tugged at her arm.
Furious with the interruption, Anice turned and scowled at her lady-in-waiting. “What, Mai? You have interrupted me when I have only just begun to speak my mind and put this hidebound Scotsman in his—”
“Milady,” Mai said, her voice hushed, “do you hear how quiet the hall has become?”
Anice looked around to see the courtiers scraping their plates with spoons and downing their tankards of wine, but the conversation had dropped to a whisper. Many an eye cast a gaze her way. Had her voice risen that much? No, some other reason caused the courtiers to speak more softly. She turned to see if the king had signaled for the staff to quiet down.
King Henry’s bright eyes focused on Anice, making her feel morbidly self-conscious. He was a handsome king with black, short curly hair that covered his ears and reached down to the jeweled collar of his tunic. A mustache that curled past his lips didn’t hide the grim line of his mouth, nor did the furrow of his brow go unnoticed. The queen’s puzzled, but concerned look, made Anice feel as though wood ants were crawling over every inch of her naked skin. Her cheeks already burned from Laird MacNeill’s words, but now the heat spread all the way to her toes. How many times would this Highlander embarrass her?
She turned her attention to her meal. The servants served dove on oyster shell. With no intention of speaking further to the Scotsman during the meal, Anice picked at her fowl.
Conversation slowly renewed again to a low-pitched roar.
But the more she thought about Malcolm’s words, the angrier she grew. To think some Highlander she didn’t know would advise the king to keep her at Arundel longer! Why here she’d presumed the Highlander could save her from the wicked lust of the king. And here instead, the Scot would help to put her at further risk? The very idea!
She ripped a wing off her bird and pointed it at Malcolm. “You may think you can do as you will where I am concerned because His Grace has made you my steward. But let me tell you something, Laird MacNeill, if you so much as hint at my staying here further—”
“Milady,” Mai cautioned under her breath.
“What now, Mai? I am no’ speaking verra loud.”
Mai nodded her head in the direction of the head table where King Henry spoke to his steward.
The redheaded man bowed, then headed straight for Anice’s table. She dropped her wing on her plate and picked up a piece of bread. The laird had no business with her so she igno
red his approach.
But as his footsteps drew nearer and the hall grew quiet, her temperature elevated again.
“Lady Anice,” the steward said.
She turned to face him. “Aye, milaird?”
“His Grace wishes to know if there is some trouble here.” He glanced at Malcolm as if to indicate he knew where the problem lay.
Yes, there was trouble indeed, all in the form of one brawny, dark-haired, brown-eyed Scotsman. For a moment, she took sympathy on him as Malcolm and his brother’s eyes fairly pleaded with her not to speak against Malcolm.
The hall remained hushed while the steward waited for her answer. All eyes watched them as if Anice had become the court jester for the meal. If she said what she really thought, that the Highlander had no right even thinking he was taking over her castle, or that he had no business telling her or anyone else that she should remain behind, the MacNeill brothers would be thoroughly disgraced.
“Nay, milaird.” She would not harm the brothers in that manner. Though she gave enough of a delay to force sweat upon the brothers’ brows. ‘Twas enough for now. After all, this Malcolm warred with her with threatening to tell...advise the king to keep her here.
Her slow response evidently troubled the steward. “Are you certain, milady? His Grace was concerned you were upset. He would speak with you following the meal in his solar, if—”
“Nay!” She bit her lip. Though the steward spoke softly, she did not and the only thing she was grateful for was that most would not have heard what she so vehemently opposed doing.
She cleared her throat hastily. “That would be most unnecessary.”
“As you wish, milady. I will tell His Grace that all is well.” He bowed to her, then crossed the floor to the head table. Her heart nearly stopped beating. Would the king insist on meeting with her following the meal anyway? A parting goodbye for his wife’s favorite cousin? She curled her fingers into fists.
The king listened to his steward, though his gaze remained on her. He nodded, then a smile appeared. Had the steward told him what she had objected to? She felt as if she had been immersed into a pot of the cook’s boiling stew.
