“Nay, nothing has happened.” He was not surprised that the question was so often asked around Glencullaich. “I just decided it was past time we kenned where that fool Adam is and just what he may be doing. Kenning where he is could be a great help. He slips in and out of your lands with far too much ease and disappears far too quickly. I want to ken how he does that.”
“It is going to get worse, isnae it?”
“Oh, aye. The mon has only two ways to get his greedy hands on this land, doesnae he. He can be rid of you and Benet. Or, he can just take it all away from you, making verra certain that ye and Benet dinnae survive the taking to challenge him later.”
She paled and he put his arm around her slim shoulders, pulling her up close against his side. It was a harsh truth but she had to face it. Harcourt suspected she was aware of what the next step in this dance would be, certainly after Sir Adam’s attempt to kidnap her, but it was time to face the truth with her eyes wide open and her mind clear of doubt or false hopes. She needed to be fully prepared for the battle he knew was coming.
Annys forced herself to stop enjoying how he held her close and started thinking again. The man was skilled at muddling her wits. The moment he was near all she could think of was how badly she wanted to kiss him. She inwardly cursed, recognizing how cleverly she could lie to herself. In truth, when he was near, all she could think of was making love. She was failing miserably in shaking free of that weakness.
“I ken it,” she said, pulling away from him and ignoring how her whole body protested the loss of his warmth. “I do. I just wish it wasnae so. Worse than that, I think too often on how Sir Adam is actually right to claim that Benet isnae the true heir.”
“Oh nay, lass. Benet is indeed the true heir. David claimed that lad as his son and the lad was born within the bounds of your Church-blessed marriage to the mon. That is all the law and the Church require. Lass, trust me to ken this as truth when I tell ye, Benet will nay be the first heir who carried none of his mother’s husband’s blood.”
“That is rather sad.”
“At times. At other times ’tis for the best. I dinnae think many do as David did but others ken weel that the son they claim as heir, the lad they raise and train, isnae truly their get. There are many reasons for that, too. Nay begetting a son of his own is the most common of reasons. The moment David held Benet and claimed, ‘This is my son,’ Benet became the true heir to Glencullaich in the eyes of the law and the Church.”
“That fact doesnae stop the whispers Sir Adam has stirred up with his talk. Whispers and doubts my son may have to suffer from for the rest of his life.”
He sighed as she walked back into the keep. Harcourt knew she was right. And in this matter the truth would not free Benet from that. He inwardly shook his head at his own heedless actions of five years ago.
Then he thought of all David had said to convince him. To his shame it had not been that difficult for the man. Harcourt had wanted Annys from the first moment he had seen her, opening his eyes to find her leaning over him and bathing his feverish brow with a cool damp cloth. There was no disputing what David had said, Sir Adam’s actions now proving that the man’s fears for Glencullaich had been well justified. Yet, Harcourt could not help but think that it had not been his head doing his thinking for him at the time.
As he stepped into the great hall to see Benet sitting next to Annys, the boy’s short legs swinging back and forth as he told her about some snail he had seen in the garden, Harcourt sighed. He could torture himself with guilt, bemoan the way he had allowed lust to lead him, and even suffer the pangs of shame for walking away from her and the child he had bred, but one thing he would never change. Without all that had happened, all that was wrong, there had been one blessed outcome of the past: Benet.
“Och, the snail couldnae have been that large,” he teased as he walked up to the table to sit down facing them and noted with amusement that Benet was holding his hands at least a foot apart. “A snail that big could chomp on a wee lad like you.”
Benet sat up straight and puffed out his thin chest. “I would fight. I would beat him with my stick.” He frowned down at his feet. “I would stomp him with my shoe but then it would get all messy and I like my shoes.”
“Ah, aye, they are verra fine shoes. Of course, it isnae good to kill a poor creature that is just trying to find a meal for itself. But it needs to leave the garden before it eats all that we need for our meals.”
Benet leapt up and scrambled out of the seat. “I will get Tomas and Robbie to help me put it outside the walls.”
And then he was gone and Harcourt shook his head over the speed with which the boy moved. “Who are Tomas and Robbie?”
“Joan’s sons. They are older than Benet. Ten and twelve and they work in the stables most days. But they are verra good with him.”
“’Tis good for a wee lad to have some older ones willing to play with him. We dinnae oftimes see it, but they can teach a wee lad a lot he needs to ken. But, are there no younger children about the keep?”
“There are a few lassies his age but they dinnae play together much. They have all reached that silly age where they each believe the other sex is dim-witted or worse. Benet complained yestereve that all wee Jenny wants to do is kiss him and he hates it because it makes his face all wet.” She grinned when Harcourt laughed but then slowly grew serious again as she looked toward the door Benet had just run out of. “I didnae give it a thought but he just ran off alone.”
“Nay, he isnae and willnae be alone until this problem with Sir Adam is settled. Every place he can leave the keep is being watched and a mon will linger close by at all times.”
“Ah, a loose rein.”
“Too tight a one and he might try to slip free of it.”
“True.” She finished off the small cup of cider she had poured for herself and stood up. “The MacFingals willnae be in too much danger, will they?”
“I willnae lie and say they are in no danger at all, but they are verra, verra skilled at what I have asked them to do. As their father liked to say, MacFingals could steal the coins off a dead mon’s eyes and be gone before the mourners e’en realized they were there.”
“Oh. What a verra strange recommendation for a spy,” she murmured, then laughed and shook her head. “The MacFingals are a wee bit unusual, arenae they.”
“A wee bit.” He stood up and walked over to link his arm with hers. “Come. Walk with me and I will tell ye all about them.”
Annys knew she should say no and go do some work, but it was a fine day and she decided to allow herself just a little weakness. She nodded and he led her out of the keep. They strolled around the grounds, ending up in the garden, now empty of snail and boys. All the while she listened to him tell her tales of the MacFingals torn between shock, laughter, and pure disbelief.
“So many children,” she said and shook her head as he led her to the bower and urged her down to sit on the bench next to him. “Yet, he kept them all.”
“Aye, he did. And for all those many, many lads grumble about the mon, they love him. He kens each and every one’s name, when they were born, and who the mother was. Not one of them doubts that in his too often outrageous way, their father cares for them all.”
“A good thing for a child to ken.”
She suddenly felt both sad and angry. She was the legitimate get of her parents, their only daughter and one of a mere three children. Yet not once had she felt cared for in the way all those dozens of MacFingals had. Annys fought the fear that it was her fault even as she wondered what was wrong with her parents that they could not even compare well to a man who bred so many bastards, was proud of his skill for thievery, and made enemies of all his neighbors until his own son had to take his place as laird just to avert war with everyone for miles around them.
“Ye have gone verra quiet,” Harcourt said as he slipped his arm around her shoulders.
“I was but thinking that the MacFingals, for all that is wrong th
ere, had a better parent than I e’er did.” She cursed softly at what she had just confessed. “Dinnae heed me. I but had a moment of feeling sorry for myself.”
“I did hear that your parents were nay here verra often.”
“The wedding, the birth, and David’s funeral.”
“Then what did they think to gain from arranging the marriage? So few visits imply they were nay trying to gain much from David.”
“Oh, they got what they wanted. David’s father got them into the court circles. They had ne’er been able to get there for my mother’s father had angered the wrong people years ago and the whole family was banished. The ruler of the court may change but the ones who dinnae wish to see ye or yours take longer to disappear and the talk of some taint, e’en longer than that. But they are back and from all I hear, they are rarely anywhere else.”
“So, they didnae really care which son ye married as they had already gained what they sought.”
“Aye. I was brought here to learn to be the wife of the laird of Glencullaich.”
“They didnae e’en try to make a new contract when Nigel was cried dead?”
“Nay, although I think they did get a few wagons of goods from David.” She looked at him. “I think ’tis more embarrassing than aught else. I would thank them for placing me in such a wonderful keep save that I ken weel they didnae care much about that, or e’en about what sort of mon Nigel was.”
“Ye have sisters or brothers?”
“Two brothers. One younger and one older.”
“Why did ye nay ask them to come and help ye with Sir Adam?”
“Colin is too busy trying to keep our lands making enough coin to support my mother and father. Ah, and Edward has just wed a lass whose father sees him as his heir to his small holding. I do get word from them now and then but I kenned weel that I could find no aid there. That isnae meaning they wouldnae have offered, just that they cannae. I kenned ye were a warrior. My brothers cannae claim that, either.”
“And that is why ye didnae wish to go home. T’was cold there, aye?”
She felt the press of his warm lips against the corner of her eye and answered, “Aye. That and my cousins. Evil boys. Men now, but long gone from there. I complained about them once to my mother and got a beating for it. I was too naïve to realize that it was my uncle and aunt who had the money e’en though my father had the land.”
Harcourt had a fair idea of what those “evil boys” had been trying to do with their very young cousin. He gently tugged her closer but it was not just sympathy for the lonely child she must have been. There was nothing he could do to change the past. What he wanted was a kiss and for some odd reason he was approaching the matter with all the skill of an untried boy.
Annys realized she was nearly sitting in Harcourt’s lap. The thought made her blush for a large part of her thought that would be a lovely place to be. One look in his amber eyes told her that he was not thinking about comforting her for rousing bad memories at the moment.
“Harcourt,” she began, trying to put a warning in her voice, which came out sounding a little too welcoming.
“Just a kiss,” he said and brushed his mouth over hers.
It was never just a kiss to her but Annys had no intention of confessing that. She told herself to get up and walk away, perhaps even leave him with a few sharp words of rebuke. But his lips were so soft and warm. Even the light touch of them on hers was enough to make the heat of need flow through her body. As she let him draw her more fully into his embrace a little voice told her that she would pay dearly for giving in to such temptation. Annys ignored it.
Her whole body welcomed his kiss. As his tongue caressed the inside of her mouth her hunger for him grew until she ached. For a moment she tensed when he moved his hands up from her waist. Then he stroked the sides of her breasts with his fingers, making them swell and ache for the feel of his caress, and she trembled.
The strength of her reaction to such a light, not quite intimate, touch startled her and broke the spell his kiss had put her under. Annys became all too aware of their surroundings. The bower might be shaded, but they were not completely hidden away. Anyone, including Benet, could stumble upon their little tryst. Sharing heated kisses in the garden was not the way the lady of Glencullaich should behave.
Harcourt silently cursed when her soft, willing body abruptly grew tense. He wanted to hold her tight and bring back the fire he had tasted in her kiss but he knew that would be a mistake. What he desperately wanted to know was what had happened to douse her fire. He could then make certain it never happened again.
Unless it was some memory of him that turned her cold and cautious. It was an alarming thought. Harcourt could not think of anything he had done. He knew men could be complete lackwits about what would and would not upset a woman, but he prided himself on being more astute than most. The women in his family took pride in making sure their men, especially their sons, had some faint ability to see when they had done something that might offend or upset a woman before they went out into the world. If he did not find out what was turning her cold soon he was going to be useless in the coming fight. He would be too crippled with unsatisfied lust to even walk, he thought, and almost smiled at that nonsense. In truth, he would more likely be eager to kill as many of their enemy as possible.
“Annys? Is something wrong?” he asked when she pulled free of his embrace. “Ye look concerned.”
“Of a certain I am concerned. We are in the garden!” The look of confusion that passed over his handsome face made her want to hit him even though she knew most of her growing anger was aimed right at her own weakness. “Anyone could see us.”
Harcourt opened his mouth to argue that when a young male voice called out to her. A moment later young Gavin hurried over to them, having spotted them from the moment he had entered the garden. The chances of such a thing happening every time he sought to steal a kiss in the garden were very small, but one look at Annys’s face told him it would be wise if he kept that opinion to himself. She looked briefly horrified and embarrassed before she assumed that calm, sweet expression he had begun to call her m’lady face.
“The MacQueen laird has sent an answer,” Gavin said.
Seeing no missive in his hand, Annys asked, “Did ye put it in the ledger room ere ye came to find me?”
“Nay, he didnae write anything. He told me to tell you he needed to ponder his answer a wee bit and would send it on soon.”
“Ponder his answer?” Annys shook her head. “Thank ye, Gavin.” The moment the youth walked away, she looked at Harcourt. “What is there for the mon to ponder? I asked him to do something about the trouble his son was causing me. A simple aye or nay, or e’en a my son can do no wrong reply was all that was needed.”
Harcourt stood up, reached out to her in the hope of easing her agitation, and then tried not to wince when she smoothly moved out of the way. “He but delays, makes ye wait.”
“Wait for what?”
He shrugged. “For him to see for himself if what ye told him was true? To keep ye waiting and thinking he might help so that his son has more time to ready his next attack? All I am certain of is that the mon plays some game. I am just nay exactly sure which one.”
“Which do ye think is the most probable?”
“That he tries to make ye think ye could find help there and so will wait and do nothing else.”
“Thus, as you said, giving Sir Adam that time he needs to ready himself for his next strike.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to try to tamp down a rising anger, then looked at him again. “Weel, he will soon see that I am nay such a weak fool. We shall continue to do whate’er is needed to protect ourselves. And I hate this,” she added softly.
When he moved to take her into his arms, thinking only to comfort her, she evaded him again. “What is wrong? I but meant to try to ease the pain I heard in your voice when ye spoke.”
Annys studied his face, seeing no lie there. She doubted the em
brace would have remained one of only comfort, however. She was not being vain in believing that he wanted her, was just not sure it was a want as whole-hearted as the one she had for him. As with too many men, Harcourt’s wanting probably sprang from just one part of him while hers was rooted so deep inside it was as much a part of her as breathing.
“Then I thank ye for that thought,” she said. “And, aye, this is a matter which causes me great pain. I simply cannae understand how anyone could wish harm upon a child or a place as fine as this just for their own gain. And that is all Adam sees when he looks at Glencullaich. Gain. His gain. He would bleed this place dry if he got his hands on it. I willnae allow that. I willnae play his father’s sly games, either.”
“Good, although I wasnae verra worried that ye would cry a halt to all we are doing just to wait on that mon’s word.” He held out his hand. “Sit with me for a wee while and we can discuss it all.”
Harcourt inwardly cursed when he saw wariness creep into her expression. He was not surprised, however. It had been an awkward ploy. For reasons he could not fathom, he lost all his reputed wooing skills when dealing with Annys.
“I begin to think ye play a wee sly game as weel, Sir Harcourt Murray.”
“Me? What game would I play with you, sweet Annys?”
“Seduction. Weel, ye can cease playing for I am wise to you now.”
Harcourt watched her walk away and slowly smiled. It was freeing, in a way, that she now understood he was trying to seduce her. He had discovered that his well-practiced seduction ploys did not work well on a woman who had never played the game. Such ploys were for the more worldly wise ladies, not one like Annys. The fact that he wanted to win this prize with a desperation that surprised him made him clumsy at the game anyway. Now he could openly hunt her down and he found he was heartily looking forward to that.
He walked toward the bailey to rejoin the others in training the men. Annys was still giving him a free hand in firming up Glencullaich’s defense. Sir Adam’s father had badly misjudged the intelligence of the woman he was dealing with. There would be no pause as she waited for his reply. In truth, Harcourt had every intention of working harder and faster.
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