by Terry Spear
Again, Dougald looked at Malcolm as if seeking confirmation she spoke the truth.
“We travel east well away from these men,” Malcolm ordered.
“It will add hours onto our destination when we dinna know if what the lass says is true.”
“We cannot risk a confrontation if the lady is correct.” In his heart, he was certain Anice spoke the truth, yet he didn’t want his brothers to concern themselves with how she knew, at least not at present. If she said so, the danger moved in their direction. Best be concerned with moving out of its path.
When they continued in their usual configuration, Malcolm took a deep breath and said what was on his mind. “Lass, I ken you knew what you were talking about. What I have to know is how you knew this.”
“Thank ye for believing in me. ‘Tis naught.”
“Ye said they were hiding Edgar’s standard, which would be prudent in case others who did not support his cause, fought them. Then you said you saw the standard. I venture to guess you did not see any sign of them. In that case, how did you know they were beyond the hills, out of sight, and heading in our direction?”
“Mayhap I overheard someone telling someone else of Laird Robertson’s movements?” she asked, her green eyes wide, expressive, endearing.
“Mayhap not, milady. Ye are gifted?”
She stared ahead and didn’t say a word.
“How oft do ye see things like this?”
“I dinna know what you mean.”
His jaw tightened. If he was to be her husband, he had to know everything there was about the lady. He would not allow her to put his concerns asunder. “Anice, ye need not worry how I feel. I am verra open-minded, not like some of my kinsmen.”
She looked at him, and his heart nearly gave out. She looked so fearful. Why? Thinking he would cast her aside if she had such a gift?
“Lass, whatever ye think, I treasure you for being you. If you wish no’ to tell me—”
“And your brothers?” she asked.
How could he keep such a thing from his brothers? They never kept secrets from one another, except for his not mentioning he had failed to bed the lass, but ‘twas not any of their concern for now. Still, they would suspect something was not as it should be, the way she sensed danger before any of them did.
When he hesitated overlong to speak, she nodded. “I suspected as much. You will tell your brothers.”
Which meant she did possess some uncanny ability.
“Exactly what can ye see, lass?”
“Sometimes danger, but not always. I did not see Laird Robertson wished me ill…”
She quit speaking abruptly and her face paled.
“Anice?”
“Nay, I sensed the danger long beforehand. Robertson loved another and I ‘heard’ him and the woman he rendezvoused making plans. They knew the only way I could inherit my uncle’s estates was if he died. Laird Dunstan was healthy and robust. He would have lived forever, had someone not murdered him. But Robertson planned to wed me, kill my uncle, and then me. He would have my estates and the woman’s hand in marriage. When he tried to take me before our wedding, I killed him. There was a madness in his eyes, and I could never understand why he wished to do the thing he did, though I suspected ‘twas because he’d had too much to drink. Had he not, I might not have had a chance to thwart him where my uncle’s life was concerned once I was wed to the beast.”
“Do you see anything about us?”
She looked at him, her eyes misted.
Malcolm’s heart plummeted. “Anice, what is it that ye see?”
“I fear we will have much trouble when we return to Brecken, yet we must go home. I cannot delay returning there nay matter what I feel.”
He ran the reins through his fingers, then asked, “Did ye see Henry’s response to my request to seek your hand?”
She looked away, tears spilling down her cheeks. “He and many of his men will come. ‘Tis no’ good, Malcolm. He is angry and wants your head.”
Malcolm considered her words, unruffled, then sat taller in the saddle. “But he does not get it, does he?”
“Och, Malcolm, how can ye even jest about a thing like this?”
“I am no’ jesting, milady,” he responded, semi-seriously.
“I cannot see the outcome of things, only the danger present itself, sometimes, no’ all the time. ‘Tis frustratingly annoying.” Anice shoved a loose curl back inside her veil.
To change the darkness of the subject, he asked, “Pray tell, will I win the archery contest, or will ye?”
She furrowed her brows. “I canna see everything that is going to happen.”
“Like ye dinna see if we have children?”
Clenching her teeth, she responded. “Nay. If the king has your head, I doubt we will have children.”
Malcolm pondered the notion further, then smiled. Mayhap he might lose his head, but he had every intention of bedding the lady and leaving her with a child of his making. Just the way she took in Kemp, the homeless urchin, showed Malcolm she would love a child of her own verra much. If he did nothing else for her and nothing else with his life, he had every intention of giving her a bairn.
Though Malcolm suspected Anice’s mood would improve the closer they rode toward Brecken, she became even more fretful, which did not bode well. Though he’d managed to avoid answering his brothers’ questioning glances, he knew before long he’d have to tell them about the lass’s abilities.
Both were more superstitious than him, so he wasn’t certain how they might take the news. Even with him, the notion she would see things in the future made his blood chill.
Most nights, they’d slept under the stars, separated, because he would have wanted to bury himself deep inside her, not just hold her close to keep the chill out. Even now, his trewes grew uncomfortably tight. His reluctance to sleep with her did not go unnoticed by his brothers, and from time to time he caught them speaking to each other out of his and Kemp’s hearing. Did they know he kept secrets from them and were now keeping secrets from him?
He hadn’t realized the lass would come between his brothers and he and the thought unsettled him.
“I must take care of business,” Anice said, motioning to the ancient Caledonian Forest, the floor cushioned in fragrant pine needles, a light chilly breeze stirring the dark green needles of the Scots pine. The whooshing of the breeze through the branches, added to the pleasant sound of the gurgle of the rush of a stream nearby, the cold waters bubbling over rounded moss-blanketed rocks.
“Stray not too far, lass.”
“’Tis my home,” Anice said, motioning to Glen Affric. “Naught would harm me here.”
‘Twas too late to continue their journey with still several hours to travel and the horses dead tired. They’d pushed too far this day, yet he’d worried about them not getting the lady tucked safely inside her fortress. He would not argue with her about how safe the place was, but thieves and other disreputable men lived everywhere. If any knew she was King Malcolm’s cousin, and the cousin to King Henry’s wife, Anice might very well be taken hostage for ransom.
He paced with his sword in hand, waiting for the lady to reemerge.
The sound of crunching on the pine-needle floor, made him whip around. Relieved, he found Dougald before him. “Where is the lady?”
Malcolm waved at the trees behind him.
“Angus and I want to ken what the lady knows about…” Shaking his head, Dougald folded his arms. “Tell me she isna a witch.”
“She is not, Dougald,” Malcolm said, his words harsher than he had intended.
“She sees things God hadna intended,” Dougald insisted.
“Have ye ever felt something was going to happen before it did?”
Dougald narrowed his eyes. “Ye cannot say what I might have felt is the same as what she sees.”
Malcolm shrugged. “When the MacTaggart tried to split your skull in two, ye whipped around and killed him first. James and I had started in y
our direction and tried to warn ye. There was too much noise for you to hear the man coming up behind ye, particularly when you were fighting one of his kin in front of you. Do you remember what ye said when we were partaking of a fine draught of whiskey once the battle ended later that night?”
Dougald’s lips remained sealed in a thin gloomy line.
“Ye said, as I recall, that you sensed the man behind ye. You did not hear him, did not see him, only felt he was there with a claymore raised to split your skull in two.”
“’Tis no’ the same,” Dougald insisted.
“’Tis the same. What about the time James knew Angus was tupping a chambermaid? None of us heard a thing in the stables that morn, yet James somehow knew.”
Dougald smiled, then quickly wiped the smile from his face.
“And Angus, too. He warned that our da intended to betroth me to two lasses at the same time. We looked for our da in every tavern we could think of that he oft frequented to put an end to his madness. No’ knowing which ladies he meant to wed me to, we had nay way of knowing where he might have gone. Yet, by that next afternoon, all hell broke loose when the word spread I was to marry two women who thought I was the next MacNeill chief. Angus had never overhead our da speak of the matter, so how did he know? We never did figure out how.”
Dougald blew out his breath. “I concede ye have a point, Malcolm. So, does she foresee something is the matter up ahead? I have seen the way she is, frightened, uneasy, and your furtive glances at her, just as concerned. What does she see?”
“Trouble. She cannot tell what it is, only that it exists.” Malcolm didn’t dare mention the king wanted his head, too. His brother would insist he not consummate the marriage, but Malcolm had every intention of doing so. If Henry wasn’t happy about the marriage, he’d have it quickly annulled. But if Malcolm bedded Anice, Henry might have a change of heart.
“Where is the lass?” Angus asked, joining them.
Malcolm glanced back at the woods. Anice never took this much time to take care of personal business. He turned around and headed in the direction she had taken, his hands clammy, gripping his sword, his heart thundering against his ribs.
“Anice?” he called out, his brothers stalking beside him, fanning out to help locate her.
* * *
Anice removed her wimple and veil and washed her face in the cold stream, but a red deer bolted across the water, promptly startling her, and she slipped into the frothing stream with a squeal. ‘Twas annoying to let the deer scare her so, yet her blood chilled even more when she felt someone watching her, than from the wet gowns that now clung to her skin, or from struggling to regain her footing.
Chill bumps covered every inch of skin. ‘Twas not easy, as slippery as the moss-covered rocks were, to climb out of the swiftly moving water. Grasping for the multi-trunk rowan trees lining the banks, all she could grab were handfuls of red berries. Her fingers were becoming numb while she fought being pulled downstream.
Even over the muffled roar of the water, she heard men crashing through the underbrush to reach her. With all her heart, she hoped to see Malcolm and his brothers. ‘Twas not to be. The four men wore short cut hair and English clothes. She didn’t recognize any of them, though instantly she worried they were some of Edgar Atheling’s men.
“Mistress, reach out your hand,” one of the black bearded men said, stepping into the swift current. Immediately, he slipped on the rocks, landed on his butt in the rush of water, and swore out loud.
The others laughed. One of these tried to get to her, this one slighter of build, his hair also dark. This time, the man managed to grasp her hand, and pulled her toward the bank, while the other two stood waiting to grab her if need be.
‘Twas more than embarrassing, but what’s more, she didn’t trust their leering gazes as they took in her appearance, her hair dripping wet to her knees, her gowns plastered tightly against her skin.
“You will need to remove your clothes before you catch a death, mistress,” the man said, still gripping her arm. The others chuckled.
“Thank ye, gentleman,” she said, trying to sound confident and unafraid, yet the tremble in her voice both from the chill and the panic she felt betrayed her.
“Thank ye for taking care of the lady,” Malcolm said, rushing forth with his brothers.
The man who held her arm, tightened his hold, while the others rushed in front of her, unsheathing their swords.
“She is with us,” Dougald said, readying his sword. “The lady is my brother’s wife.”
The man’s grip on her arm lessened for a moment, but when she tried to pull away, he tightened his hold again. “So say you.”
She wondered then whether these men intended to kill Malcolm and his brothers and keep her for sport.
“Are ye from around here?” Malcolm asked, glancing at Anice to see her response.
She quickly shook her head.
The black bearded man, as wet as she, gave a wicked smile. “We are from here. But you are not.”
“I am the steward of Brecken.” Malcolm’s brows rose, challenging the man.
The men’s faces fell. Which meant what? Anice’s mind was failing her, mayhap because of the cold. She truly couldn’t understand what their responses meant.
“Release my wife,” Malcolm said, his eyes as black as the deepest loch, his sword readied to run every last man through, his voice commanding, brooking no argument.
“What say you, Thomas?” one of the men said to the black bearded man.
“The steward of Brecken is gone and another takes his place,” the man responded, his black beady eyes so small Anice didn’t think they could narrow any further, but her heart nearly stopped when the man announced someone else had taken her steward’s place without her permission.
“Aye, in the interim, mayhap, but he doesna have the king’s blessing,” Malcolm replied, taking a step forward.
The men kept their eyes focused on the threat, but Thomas shifted nervously. “Which king, pray tell?”
Were they Robert Curthose’s men then? If Malcolm said he was under King Henry’s orders, would the men attempt to slay them?
“King Alexander,” Anice quickly said, though she wasn’t sure why. If all went as planned, her cousin intended to marry Henry’s illegitimate daughter, so he would not be backing Robert’s rebellion either.
“And King Henry’s orders,” Malcolm said, his tone menacing.
The man holding her backed away, while the others lunged forth and attacked. She struggled to get away from the one, but no matter how much she kicked, yanked, and pulled, she could not break loose. Swords clanged against swords, men’s words shouted in anger, the MacNeill brothers in Gaelic, the others in English. Then in surprise, the man who held her grunted and fell backwards, pulling her down on top of him.
“Run, milady,” Kemp shouted, slamming a tree branch against the brigand’s head. Somehow, the lad had managed to trip the man and sent him sprawling.
With another bash of the sturdy limb against the man’s skull, Kemp’s actions caused the man to release Anice, yet she could not run away. Only when Malcolm and his brothers had dispensed of the brigands, did she feel somewhat relieved.
“Anice,” Malcolm said, resheathing his sword, then rushed to grab her up in his arms. Quickly, he stalked back through the woods to their campfire in the clearing. “Ye are shivering overmuch, lass.”
“We have nay farmhouse this time, Malcolm,” she said in warning.
“We are wed this time, lass. ‘Tis no’ the same as before.”
She groaned. “What about your brothers? And Kemp?”
“If they were wed to ye, they would give nay thought about it and do the same as I will with ye.”
That sent another trickle of shivers through her.
“I will only warm, ye lass, naught more. Ye will catch your death this verra eve if I do not warm you.”
“But the others, we have nay shelter for me to remove my clothes.”
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br /> “They will busy themselves in burying the dead men first, lass. They will give us our much needed privacy.”
Malcolm hurriedly helped her strip out of her clothes beside the flickering flames of the campfire, then once he’d covered her in his wool blanket, he pulled off his clothes, dampened by her own. Was it the cold that made his manhood stand out like a thick lance readied for the joust, or his touching her that made him so ready to have her?
He smiled when he caught her looking at his magnificent body. ‘Twas oft said women’s bodies were uncommonly beautiful, but gazing at his, she could see at least as far as he looked, some men were exceedingly beautiful, too.
“We should no’ be together like this, Malcolm, unless we intend to consummate the marriage.”
“I await only your word, Anice, to make it so.”
He climbed under the blanket and settled on top of her. She stilled his hands on her cheeks as an image came to her, horrifyingly clear. ‘Twas Henry’s physician who examined her to see if her maidenhead was still intact or not. If not, then what? She couldn’t see any more than that. Would the king forgive them, or have Malcolm executed for it? If not, she still feared Henry would annul the marriage if they had not consummated it, and he would marry her to someone of his own choosing.
She stared into Malcolm’s eyes, full of longing and lust. “What about the curse?”
His mouth curved up.
She frowned. “’Tis not amusing.”
“Mayhap if I make love to you, the curse will be broken.”
“You said that about the kiss.”
“I wish to give Henry no reason to annul our marriage.” Malcolm kissed her forehead.
She combed her fingers through his long hair. “I love my people. If Henry does not approve of our marriage, he could take Brecken from me.”
Malcolm said nothing in response, just touched her face with a gentle stroke.
“You wanted land and property. If you remained married to me, and King Henry took these away from me, you would lose the chance to have a wife who owned thus.”
“Aye.”
Aye? ‘Twas all he could say? Aye? “If…if we do not consummate the marriage, King Henry will have his physicians examine me. When they discover you have not bedded me, he will have my marriage annulled and marry me off to someone else.”
