Annalise nearly choked on the tender venison, when her father made the announcement. Her eyes went wide as the hundred clansmen, and women all raised their glasses in respect to honor her and their father. They looked happy for her, even though she was very far from cheerful at the prospect. She wasn’t foolish enough to make a scene, but she was defiant enough to not raise her glass as propriety had dictated. Trying to smile, despite her shock, she wouldn’t dare make eye contact with her brothers.
A dreadful knot formed in the pit of her stomach, as she glanced around at the hopeful faces of her people, and she wanted to make them proud. A sheen of tears formed in the corners of her eyes as she fought the urge to run from the room, and the castle, to a safe haven.
The fact she failed to salute did not go unnoticed, and her mother kicked her beneath the table of the large dais. Rosalyn Campbell looked the part of countess, and wife of the laird. She was beautiful, with blonde hair and sky blue eyes. Her limbs were long and delicate, evenly proportionate of her height. Her rich emerald green gown was decorated by a wrap made of fox tales and a diamond broach clasped around her slight neck.
Rosalyn was treated like a queen by her clan, for her gentle nature and compliant respect. However, Aleck and she often had their fair share of disagreements in private. Their bond grew stronger over the years, a united front at all cost, even at times of disagreement.
She had given her husband four living sons and a daughter, earning her the respect of the clan, and the gratitude of Aleck. She was nearing forty-five, but aging gracefully, with only a touch of crow’s feet about her eyes.
In her mother’s presence, Anna felt like a servant. She was shorter, with unruly curly red hair. Her eyes were green, and she had freckles about her cheeks and nose. She was the only one in her family to barely make five feet tall, which made her look like the runt of the litter. Her brothers were all exceptionally tall, like her father. So, they nicknamed her Sprite, something she had resoundingly lived up to. She was mystical, unpredictable and abnormally fast for a short girl.
Rhett, her brother closest in age, had started the term Sprite, when he began learning about the fairies and sprites in the highland legends, tiny little women creatures with fierce tempers and sharp teeth. Anna was a force to be reckoned with when she was cornered, priding herself on not being the spit of her mother. In her own opinion her mother was weak, conceding to her father’s whims like a common lap dog. However, her youth allowed her the naivety. The boys learned the hard way that she would claw or bite her way free of them, if they got too close.
Anna ignored her mother’s discrete reprimand, and focused more on the words her father was saying. If she was lucky, a huge snowstorm would trap the brute and his crew of barbarians high in the hills until late spring. Then she could enjoy the holiday season, and not have to worry about finding herself in The Falcon’s clutches.
When the earl sat down again everyone began to eat. Many would be celebrating this evening in anticipation of the upcoming nuptials. However, the entire idea soured Anna’s stomach. She pushed her food around her plate, until it was acceptable to ask if she might retire. Her father gave permission, and she disappeared into the corridors to blow off steam. Racing down the hall, she flew past the guards on the way to the private chambers.
Launching herself onto her bed, she clung to her pillow and cried. Why did she have to marry The Falcon?
Early the following morning, Anna grabbed the basket she took with her to go to the village, and descended the back stairs. Not many people were about this early, which was why she enjoyed going at this hour. She didn’t want to hear congratulations or partake in the merriment, but there was very little that she could do but smile and say thank you, when people broached the topic. If she told them her true feelings, it would cast shame on her parents, and insult her clan.
The healer in the village, Marisol, made lovely scented oils from plants. It was Anna’s hope that she might still have some scents for sale. Christmas was tonight, so there was a very distinct possibility that she would be out. Anna asked herself why she had left it all to the last minute.
Skipping along, she lost herself in her enjoyment of the crisp mountain air. The wind remained low, which was odd this close to the water. Contemplating splurging on other oils or what she would do if Marisol were out of supply, her focus changed to a gift she would have to present to her husband. Should she prepare a gift? An exasperated sigh slipped past her lips as she tried not to think of it. If only Marisol were a witch, who could give her a disappearing spell, instead of herbs and medicines.
Skipping down the path that lead to the village, Anna started to sing a Christmas song that her mother had sung when they were children.
The snow is falling, and kissing the trees
Lullabying the forest to sleep ‘til it’s spring.
There’s smells of fresh biscuits, cider and fern
All signs it is soon time to celebrate our Lord Christ’s birth…
She hummed for a few minutes, stopping to pick some acorns for a gift she was working on for her father. She was making a table centerpiece, and thought it would add a special touch to the bows. Her gifts were always creative, not the simple embroidery that many ladies constructed.
Anna had learned young how to sew, but she preferred to dabble in other talents for her gifts. The head cook at the estate, Mrs. Drindle, had taught her how to make candles when she was young. Now it was a passion of hers, especially the scented ones. So far, she had made six for each of her brothers, all in a rich mint scent.
When she reached Marisol’s step, she noticed the men watering their horses. They were tall and bearded fellows, almost looking like the bears whose fur they were wrapped in. She didn’t recognise their faces, and their tartan was covered mostly by the large fur capes. The wind now would freeze the whiskers off a fox.
There were two of them, which seemed odd at this hour. They tipped their heads respectfully in hello, which she returned. Marisol was a healer, and people got hurt at all hours, she rationalized. She knocked, and was greeted by the servant Esme.
“Miss Anna, you’re about early,” she greeted, ushering her in out of the cold. The warm heat of the fire was delicious after the cool air of the winter winds. A faint smell of cinnamon tickled her nose, but not unpleasantly. Christmas time was filled with the scents of cider and cinnamon, and instantly calmed her.
“Yes, I wanted to get back to the castle before many are up. Is Marisol here?” Anna inquired, hoping she wasn’t waking the woman. Anna herself was an early riser, and always had been. It was hard to remember sometimes that others preferred to linger in their beds.
“She is, my lady, but she is assisting a man who came to her hurt in the night.” Esme was a pretty little thing. She was always very pleasant to talk with and eager to assist Anna when she visited. She was about the same height, but the other girl was a little bigger.
Withdrawing an old ribbon she wore in her hair, Anna gave it to the girl. It was red, the color of the season, and Anna felt a warm tenderness consume her as she saw the joy ignite in the young girl’s eyes. “Happy Christmas, Esme,” she offered.
“Oh, Miss Anna!” Esme gasped. “Thank you so much!”
“You’re very welcome. I knew you would love it, and the color will look nice with your hair!” Gesturing with a sigh at her own mop of curls, she said, “I have enough red, it will look much nicer on you.”
Anna heard a man’s grunt behind her and startled. When she turned in the direction, she focused on a large man slumped in a chair in the corner by the fire.
Esme blushed, instantly apologetic. “Forgive me, my lord.” She fumbled, pocketing the ribbon and offered a brief introduction. “My lady, this is—” her words were cut short as the man stood.
He was huge. Anna had thought her brothers and father to be big men, but this man would be a good head over them. He had light brown hair, and a shaggy beard, which took away from his piercing blue eyes. He had a kil
t on with a familiar tartan, but she couldn’t pin it down in her memory; his shirt was noticeably well made. It hinted he was a man of wealth. However, he could have stolen it. Instinct told her this man was capable of such deeds, but his slight smile, and quiet words put her more at ease.
“No need, Esme.” He dipped his head politely, and then sat again. “My lady, Kenrick Mackenzie at your service.”
Anna’s eyes enlarged in disbelief. Kenrick Mackenzie? Did he actually introduce himself as Kenrick Mackenzie? She swallowed a sudden lump from her throat, trying to let the shock not register on her face for all to see. “Anna,” she choked out, forcing a smile to her lips.
Kenrick instantly felt the girl’s discomfort, and watched the byplay between her and the servant intently. If he wasn’t mistaken, the beautiful girl recognised his name. Her pursed pink lips looked like they were trying to work properly, but it made little sense to him. She was tense, like an anxious rabbit.
Looking back to Esme, Anna fumbled an excuse to make a hasty retreat. She tried not to let her words or actions alert him of her clear shock, but it was hard to manage. If Esme said the wrong thing or introduced them further, he would know who she was. Anna was obtuse, but Annalise was distinctive. Forget the oils, she’d rethink the gifts. “Marisol is busy, and I have other business to attend to. Tell her I will come back later if time allows, will you, Esme?”
He was almost amused that he seemed to intimidate her so much. Women were funny creatures, he sighed. Then, he considered that she might have overheard his name whispered about. Usually most only knew him by his nickname, but judging her awkward behaviour, he supposed she’d pieced it together.
His eyes dropped to her cape lined with fur and realized she must be from wealth. Such capes were not for the lower class. Usually, however, respectable young women were not out unescorted at this early hour.
Esme nodded, confused by the lady’s behaviour. “I will tell her as soon as she finishes with the patient, my lady.”
Turning, Anna slightly dipped her head politely to Kenrick. “Sir,” she offered in brief goodbye.
Kenrick felt his lip twitch into a smirk, as she opened the door, and in her haste nearly collided with it. “My lady.”
A brief sigh of relief expelled from her as the door closed. Anna stood for a moment to regain the working order of her legs. The Falcon was here? He was in the village and would soon be making his way to the castle. He was massive, like a barn in width about the shoulders, and as tall as the entranceway. She gulped, trying to picture how such a man was truly going to be as a husband. Why did her father not consider a man less intimidating?
Taking off as fast as her legs could carry her, she darted for the castle.
Perhaps she could run away? If no one knew The Falcon had arrived, she might make a quick escape. As a child, she’d learned from her brothers to survive in the woods. So, if she could remember the skills, she might make it to Dunlop Castle. Her grandmother, Lady Eara might help to keep her from The Falcon’s clutches.
Chapter 2
Kenrick sat warming his aching cold limbs by the fire. Damn winter travel, it was a hateful bitch, he thought. The Falcon and his men had been on border patrols for several weeks, after a few raids had depleted some of their heifers. He decided to set out early with a handful of his best men to Inverarary Castle, to meet his betrothed and spend the holidays getting to know her. It was only fair to his men to spend Christmas Eve in warmth and comfort.
The ride had been mostly smooth, except for yesterday afternoon. Four bandits had jumped them, and his friend Angus had been dispelled from his horse. The robbers did not make off with what they hoped for; however, Angus had a gash on his arm from a swift slice of a sword. They rode on, knowing that the next town should have a healer, and he had a feeling it would be Campbell land. Scotland was becoming like an ingrained map in his mind. By now he had been from one side to the other in all directions.
The heat was just starting to thaw his feet and hands, when Marisol appeared. She was tall, with braided black hair, and dark features. Some called her the Widowed Right, since her husband, Dudley Right, died when they were newly married. He was an older man, but had some wealth to leave her comfortable.
Angus came striding out behind Marisol.
“Will he live, madam?” Kenrick inquired jokingly.
“Aye, I should say as much!” Marisol replied. “Although, he’s not the first man I’ve seen tears from.”
Angus was offended. “Tears my arse! The woman weaves a needle to torture her victims, aye, but the only tears I shed were for your soul, madam.”
Kenrick chuckled, glad his friend wasn’t as badly wounded as they had first assumed. The cut bled badly, despite the pressure of cloth they secured about him.
“Marisol, Lady Annalise was here a short time ago, she said to tell you she would return later about her business,” Esme disclosed.
“Lady Annalise?” Kenrick repeated, somewhat shocked.
“Aye,” Esme began, agitated by the man’s firmer voice. Since he arrived, he had made efforts to keep his tone less intimidating, but the hint of it was showing. Esme felt guilty disclosing her friend’s name, since the man seemed to know her by name only. However, she was trapped now. “Lady Annalise Campbell, aye. The lady here a few moments ago.”
Marisol looked to the stranger, curious about the connection. “Do you know her, sir?”
Kenrick shook his head. “No, not yet.”
Angus began to laugh. “He is only to be her husband.”
Both ladies gaped at him, as he seemed amused by the entire debacle. Remembering the beautiful face, and delicate lines of her body beneath the expensive cape, Kenrick was suddenly enthused to get married. He had entered the betrothal to secure some lands close to the Campbell lands, with little care or curiosity of the girl set to bear his name or children. However, now as he recalled her long red hair and deep green eyes, he was feeling cheerful of the pending wedding.
When they were saddled, about to depart Marisol’s, she pointed to the path that lead the way to the castle. Kenrick paid her well for her service and embarked on the journey that would end with him once more coming face to face with his bride. Only this time, he would know exactly who she was.
Anna kept to the back entrances, trying to get in and out before making anyone suspicious. It was difficult since servants were busy decorating and making the castle more festive. Her main goal was to avoid any interaction between her brothers and parents. If she could just get in and out, she might have a chance avoiding The Falcon.
Up in her bedroom, she packed a satchel complete with some of the breakfast from a tray brought up to her that morning. She doubled her cape with an older one that would not alert anyone to her desertion. It was bitterly cold this close to the water, but she hoped when she got inland, that the wind wouldn’t be so crisp.
Drinking down the cold tea, she grabbed some coin she had been saving, then twisted and weaved her way back out of the castle. Her saving grace was the fact it was still early, and many had been up late celebrating the time of year and pending party of her wedding.
She moved like she was on the verge of getting caught. In one way, she felt guilty; after all, the alliance was important to her family and the Mackenzie clan. In another way, she felt rage at being the sacrificial lamb to bind the two clans. Why couldn’t men handle their own issues, instead of making their women pay the price?
She was just about to reach the barn when she noticed four men arrive. Two were the men from earlier, which meant that the big one, just out of sight was most likely The Falcon. Crossing herself, and staying hidden, she watched as they handed their horses to the groomsmen. Freedom was just within her reach, but would be difficult. If anyone saw her, any hope for escape would be gone.
Biding her time, she waited for them to make their way to the castle entrance where they would be introduced. Her father would make them wait at least a half hour to be presented, and then call for her.
If she had an hour or more head start, she just might elude them.
Darby was on duty in the stables she noticed, as he dutifully approached the visitors to take the horses. He was a village boy who was sweet on her. That was luck! The older man, Frank, was very suspicious of her actions. When he thought that she was up to no good, he called her out on it and went running to her parents.
Coming up silently behind Darby when the men were safely inside, she did her best to flirt to coerce him to her favor. “Hello Darby, can you saddle Exodus for me?” she asked, knowing the stallion was one of the fastest her father owned. “Exodus, my lady?” Darby asked, confused. The stallion was magnificent, but she normally took Quince, a gentle natured animal that was tamed to sidesaddle.
“Yes, I want to go for a quick ride to the village. I’ll be back for Quince later,” she replied.
Darby looked at her oddly, but agreed to do as she asked. He had never been told not to let her ride the stallion, so he assumed she had clearance. He assisted her in the saddle, after he made sure the unaccustomed sidesaddle was firmly in place. “I can have Art go with you, Lady Anna.”
His suggestion threw her off her train of thought. All she wanted was to get out of this barn and on the path to safety. “You’re so kind, Darby, but really I’m fine. I shall be back within the hour,” Anna replied, giving her best smile.
An oddly familiar booming voice behind her startled them. “You can saddle another for the lady, Darby, and saddle this one for me. I will accompany Lady Annalise where she wishes to go.”
Anna checked the barn door, and like she thought, there, standing half-shadowed, was Kenrick. He was lazily leaning against the entry, staring straight at her. Anna stiffened, feeling deflated and trapped. “Really, there is no need,” she mumbled, trying to think of some excuse.
A Spanking Good New Year: Short Story Collection Page 15
