by Terry Spear
“Aye, and good thing, too.” The words slipped out, and in horror she wondered how she’d explain herself without him thinking more into what she said than she wished.
“Why is that, lass?”
She knew he wouldn’t pass her words up without asking further explanation. Because she preferred Highland lairds to Norman ones. Hadn’t she already said so?
‘Twas not because she enjoyed the company of Malcolm and his brothers, though she could see how useful Malcolm could be, keeping her warm on a chilly night, and his brothers were affable. ‘Twas not because Malcolm stirred her blood like no man had ever done. She would rather face a mad, wild boar than marry such a man.
So why did the thought of his wiving her come to mind?
“I thought you knew I prefer Highlanders on my staff to Englishmen or Normans.”
“Aye. I thought there might be some other reason.”
“And what would that be?” Her voice rose with irritation at his inference. She turned to see the smile smugly affixed to his lips.
He was so...so intolerably arrogant!
* * *
After several miles with the sun beating down on them, Anice warmed up sufficiently and mounted her own horse so as not to tire Malcolm’s. But the loss she felt from separating from him, she hadn’t expected. No one had ever held her so intimately, save her mother when she was little. But ‘twas not the same as having this burly Highlander’s arm wrapped around her to keep her safe, the warmth of his body heating hers like the sun’s intense rays beat down on the earth on a summer’s day. Though she smelled the leather of his saddle and the horse’s sweat, his musky man-scent had cloaked her, too. She hadn’t realized how much her senses were attuned to him.
As she rode beside him again, she couldn’t help wishing he held her close. Did he miss the intimacy of their touch also? Or had he just been chivalrous? After all, her word to the king concerning Malcolm’s good deeds could earn him the Englishwoman he desired.
She tightened her hold on her reins and seethed about how he, a Highlander, could want a woman like that. Where was his sense of pride in being Scottish?
Glancing at him, she found Malcolm watching her, curious. Loosening her grip on her reins, she turned her attention to the road. She’d never seen a man seem so...interested in what a woman felt or thought. Most were too busy telling the lady what was important to them. The lady in response would nod and smile sweetly, agreeing to everything he said.
Not her.
Looking over her shoulder, Gunnolf gave her a probing stare. Where had he laid the wet vellum, surely dry by now? As soon as she could manage, she’d find out what news had shaken the MacNeill brothers so.
In the distance, Godric’s Castle stood high on top of a red sandstone crag, commanding the passage of the River Wye and the wooded valley below. Nearby, deep ridges could be seen where once an ancient man had erected a fort, no doubt of wood, now long since gone.
Wood smoke drifted on the breeze from some distant dwelling.
“Shall we see if Laird Godric will allow us to dine with him?” Malcolm asked.
“Do you know the laird?” Anice knew he owned the castle but had never met the earl.
“I do. He is a thane, Saxon gentry, and kept his lands despite the Norman invasion. He had a castle in the Village of Notton before this.”
The party rode up to the gatehouse where two men were yanked inside. “These men were poaching?” The guard combed his scraggly dark beard with dirty fingers.
“Aye, mayhap His Lordship will go easy on them today. Mayhap he will order a hand be chopped off and not have their eyes put out or their...” The man stopped speaking as Dougald cleared his throat.
Seeing the lady, the man offered an apology.
The gate guard motioned to the red stone keep. “Take them to the dungeon. His Lordship has court in the morn.” As the men were hauled off, the guard turned to Dougald. “State your business.”
“I’m Malcolm MacNeill, Earl of Pembrinton. We hoped we might share an evening meal with his Lairdship,” Malcolm said. “He and I met at King Henry’s court.”
“Aye. I will send word to His Lordship. Ye are welcome to enter the bailey.”
Soon Laird Godric’s steward, a blond-bearded man, short and stocky with quick blue eyes, guided them into the keep. “His Lordship’s game warden said you may have overheard his jests to the poachers concerning their punishment.” He looked at Anice. “I wish to dispel this notion. His Lordship requires poachers to pay a fine. Hopefully, the fear of harsher punishment will deter them from poaching again.” He spoke to Malcolm. “Is the lady your wife?”
Malcolm hesitated to respond, and Anice’s cheeks colored beautifully. “She is Lady Anice, Countess of Brecken of Glen Affric, cousin to Queen Matilda,” he said as soon as she opened her mouth to speak.
The steward’s eyes widened and his mouth curved up. “Ah. Is the lady betrothed?”
Malcolm wondered where the conversation was leading to. Did the old laird harbor some interest in Anice? “His Grace wishes to have one of his Norman lairds court the lady.” Since Lord Godric was Saxon, Malcolm figured that would be the end of the earl’s interest in the lady.
Anice took a deep breath and looked decidedly relieved. But when they sat at the head table, Laird Godric introduced his son, Wulfric de Croxton, closer to Anice’s age. Though Wulfric tried to engage Anice in conversation several times, Malcolm couldn’t help interrupting him. Anice bit her bottom lip twice when he did, and he was certain she fought smiling or laughing at his actions.
His tone annoyed, Wulfric said to Malcolm, “Though you have told my lord father you are the lady’s steward, you act in some manner inconsistent with this job.”
“Aye, I am like kin to her.” Malcolm smiled when her lips parted in surprise. “His Grace besieged me to look after his ward on his behalf.”
“I see.” Wulfric leaned forward and grabbed a boar’s leg. “Mayhap I should speak with His Grace and see if a Saxon nobleman could not court the lady as well as a Norman. After all, Queen Matilda is half Saxon.”
‘Twas the truth. And that was why the Norman king took the lady as his wife. Not only did he tie Norman kings in with the old line of Saxon kings, he bound the Scots to his wishes since she was King Malcolm’s daughter.
“Only Norman lairds have been allowed to seek audience with Lady Anice.” Malcolm couldn’t help the way the hair on his neck stood. He didn’t want either Normans or Saxons claiming the bonny lass.
“Land and power can sway many a contract.” Wulfric gave him a smug smile.
Malcolm sat taller, not liking the inference. “Aye, but in the lady’s case, the king wishes her to make the choice.” He hoped lightening wouldn’t strike him down for lying so.
Anice shook her head and avoided looking at either of the men while she played with her bread.
After battling with Wulfric throughout what could have been a pleasant meal, Malcolm rose to leave. Anice thanked her generous hosts and attempted to hurry their departure.
But Laird Godric attempted to stay their plans. “Will you not hunt with me in the forest tomorrow morn?”
Malcolm hated to give up the hunt. Anice looked as though she would cut him in two if he proposed staying the night. “We must decline your generous invite, but we need travel further if we are to arrive at a timely manner at Brecken,” Malcolm sorely regretting saying.
Participating in the hunt was tempting. Malcolm had wanted to with King Henry, as avid a hunter as the king, Malcolm, and his brothers were. But their time had been cut short. If they stayed, they’d not leave until midday after partaking of the deer they managed to kill. He could see Angus and Dougald hoping he’d agree and recommend they stay the night. But he knew the reason Laird Godric offered was to give Wulfric more time to woo the lady.
Malcolm should have curbed his own desire and been more considerate of Anice’s needs, but wouldn’t she favor sleeping in a bed the night and having a hot meal the n
ext day before they journeyed again? And Mai? What about her?
Clearing his throat, Malcolm said, “But then again we would—”
“Need to be going,” Anice finished for him.
“Mayhap if the lady does not like to hunt,” Lady Godric said, “we could prepare a warm bath for her, and afterwards the ladies of my court will entertain her.”
“I thought she would hunt,” Wulfric said.
“You have a bow and quivers, milady.” Malcolm still wanted to change her mind. “So I assumed you hunt.”
“Two legged creatures should they attack.” Her green eyes narrowed like a cat’s that readied to pounce on a rat, but there was also hurt reflected in their depths. Even Mai seemed upset that the subject was going in this direction.
“Mayhap you already hunted with His Grace, but my brothers and I did not have a chance, Lady Anice.” He should have dropped the subject at that point, but Malcolm hoped he’d find sympathy for their cause. If she chose not to hunt, she would be safe in the care of Laird Godric’s ladies and out of his son’s reach.
“May I speak with you alone for a moment?” Anice’s words bristled with the nettle sting of her tongue, not a question but a command.
“Aye.” He walked her outside of the keep, while Mai followed behind. “Milady, I beg your forgiveness for asking, but my brothers and I would verra much like to hunt if you would but permit us to do so. It would give Mai a chance to rest—”
“Leave me out of this quarrel, milaird,” Mai said, briskly.
Anice took a deep breath, but blush tinged her cheeks, and her eyes were on fire. When she spoke, it was with the utmost calm, yet he sensed the barely contained anger she harbored. “You must do that which is in your heart, milaird. Mai and I will continue on our way. Once you are through with your hunt you may join us.”
She stalked off to her horse with Mai hurrying to catch up.
Malcolm cursed under his breath more for riling her, than not getting to hunt. Her situation at home could be dire, and nothing but the need for food and rest should deter them. He dashed back into the keep.
“Laird Godric, we take our leave. Again, we thank you for your generosity.” Then he ran back out of the keep while Dougald and Angus chased after him.
“She cannot mean to leave without us,” Angus shouted when Anice and Mai headed through the gate.
“She is verra stubborn. I cannot see why one day to hunt...” Malcolm shook his head. He knew why, but ‘twas one of the reasons he wished to be the laird of his own castle. Then he could do as he pleased.
He mounted his horse, then kicked it to a gallop, reaching the lady who cantered down the road within a few minutes. Mai dropped back and Dougald hurried past them to take the lead. Why couldn’t the woman have argued with him further? He would have agreed with her eventually. Why did she have to bolt out of the castle on her own? The lass needed a laird who could keep her harnessed.
Still fuming, Malcolm’s stomach tied in knots, but he was unsure of how to break the silence. He wanted to thrash her for rashly leaving. The laird who wed her would be in for a battle. Not one, but many. And he could see who’d come out on top.
The woman was bewitching, her cheeks still crimson, but the fire in her eyes had simmered to a manageable glow. What had happened to her earlier in life to make her run off whenever she didn’t get her way, or felt threatened? He’d never known a woman who would leave the safety of a castle on a whim. Why had no one ever counseled the lass better while she was growing up?
Anice said over the horses’ clip-clops, “You did not have to give up the hunt for us. I am sure you would have caught up with us along the way.”
He gritted his teeth. She knew damned well he couldn’t let her and her lady-in-waiting travel alone.
“I thank you for saying what you did on my behalf when Wulfric was interested in seeking my hand. And I thank you for interrupting the gentleman so many times. I do not think I have ever seen a man’s face so red. Mayhap I am wrong, but I do not think he likes you.”
Malcolm couldn’t help but smile. Wulfric would do battle with him if they ever met sometime on a deserted road, he was certain.
“I am sorry you missed the hunt, Malcolm.”
He stared at her, not believing she had called him by his name in such a manner. Was it a slip of the tongue?
She faced front again. “I know how important the hunt is to most men, but we cannot afford losing a day when we know not what has happened at Brecken.”
He took a deep breath. “Aye, milady. I do not know what came over me.”
She turned to smile at him, and the sight of her sweet face melted any hard feelings he had. “You are a good man, milaird. If it were not that we have many days travel ahead of us, and the worry as to what we shall find when we arrive, I would have agreed to stay. Mai could have rested up, I could have had a bath, and—”
“Wulfric would have tried to befriend you further.”
“Aye, another verra good reason not to stay, do not you agree?”
He chuckled. “Aye, milady. A verra good reason indeed.” The lady was a treasure.
Before the light faded from the sky, they reached Theinge Village. Anice pointed to the chapel at the end of the road. “’Twas an ancient temple of Tew, the Anglo-Saxon word meaning God of War. But William destroyed it when he conquered the land, then he rebuilt it. They built it here because it sits so close to the River Mimram.” She turned to Malcolm. “Mayhap we can find lodging here in a byre or such.” She rubbed her arms. “Though the day warmed up considerably, the chill is again slipping into my bones.”
Dougald motioned from a distance.
“It appears my brother has found a place for us to sleep for the night. I imagine it will not be what you are used to, milady, but will have to do.”
“I have slept in a cave before, milaird. And on the bare grass with the wind at my cheek and the stars overhead.”
Malcolm stared at her. She smiled. She was not so delicate that she could not sleep somewhere other than a straw-filled mattress in a castle keep.
“You will have to tell me more about this, milady. You have me intrigued.”
Again, she was surprised he’d be interested. No laird would express interest in such an unimportant thing.
Dougald pointed to a wattle and daub croft. Attached to this was a byre where the occupants of the home could attend to their livestock during the winter.
Anice thought having made the trip to Arundel not so very long ago, she would be more used to it. But riding all day long made her ache all over. The next few days would test her resolve to get home all in one piece.
“There is a hunting lodge,” Dougald said as they drew close, “but ‘tis occupied with more of the king’s men as they are on their way to Arundel to meet with him on the morrow. We will have to use the byre.”
Malcolm helped Anice down from her horse. “The lady said she has had poorer accommodations than this.”
Disbelief flittered across Dougald’s face. She patted his arm. “’Tis true. I was an unruly child and once ran away from Brecken and hid in a cave.”
She headed for the byre.
The three brothers burst out laughing.
Mai groaned as one of them helped her from her horse. “Aye, she was always a stubborn lass. The one who wives her will have to be verra brave.”
More laughter ensued and Anice smiled to herself. ‘Twas true. She crossed the hard-packed clay floor littered with straw to the ladder leading to the loft. The farmer’s sheep slept in the corral while the weather was mild and the byre had been swept clean.
“Is there enough room for all of us up there, think you, milady?” Malcolm asked, drawing close, so close his warm breath tickled her cheek. Her whole body warmed despite the chill in the air, and she wondered if he had the same affect on all women.
“You and the other gentlemen will have to sleep elsewhere,” Mai said. “The lady is a maid and cannot sleep with ye.”
Anic
e smiled and Malcolm copied her expression. “Under the circumstances, I think we can allow it for the next few nights, Mai. Besides you can protect me.”
Malcolm’s smile broadened, and his brown eyes darkened with a sinful wickedness. Mayhap she best sleep at one end of the loft with Mai betwixt her and the gentlemen.
Gunnolf motioned outside. “I will sleep with the wagon to guard our goods.”
She wondered if Malcolm’s brothers would choose another place to sleep for the night.
If Malcolm hoped he’d have the loft with her alone—she shook her head at the notion. Though, deep inside the idea intrigued her. She lifted her bliaut and climbed the ladder. Malcolm grabbed the ladder to steady it.
“I have to take care of business and shall return, milady. Will you be all right?” Mai wrung her hands, no doubt worried what people would think of Anice being alone without a proper chaperone.
“Aye. I have three strong Highlanders to protect me. By the time you return, I shall be asleep, nay doubt.”
“I will not be gone that long, milady.” Mai gave Malcolm a rather pointed look.
“I will see to the horses.” Dougald headed out of the byre with Mai.
“I will help him.” Angus dashed after his brother.
Anice peered down at Malcolm as she removed her veils and wimple, then began to unwind her braids.
“I should really look after the horses, too,” Malcolm said.
“Aye, that you should.”
“But then you would be alone,” he quickly added.
She smiled. “Mai would be mortified.”
He grabbed the ladder and hurried to the top.
Anice unplaited the rest of her hair while Malcolm sat bedside her on the straw bed, his gaze fixed on her hair as she separated the woven strands. She realized how much a woman’s hair fascinated a man. No wonder women had hidden their hair for the last hundred years. Only more recently had the women given up the veils. Yet for travel, she felt more comfortable keeping her hair covered.
“You act as though you have never seen a woman’s hair unbound before.”
He reached out to touch it. “Silky as the tassel of corn and just as golden with touches of fiery red.” He pressed the lock to his face and breathed in the fragrance. “Kissed by lavender.”
