Once Forbidden

by TERRI BRISBIN

  "I am sorry, Firtha, if I have made your life difficult." Anice offered a small smile, this one coming somewhat easier than her last one. She'd not felt capable of smiling or joy in many days, nay, many weeks.

  "So, are ye done yet? Are you ready for some food?"

  Anice sat back in her chair and stretched her arms over her head. She'd hunched over too long and her body let her know it. Even the babe in her womb responded by rolling around inside as she leaned back away from the table's edge.

  "I think I would truly like a walk right now. The day looked promising this morn. Is it still?" Since this chamber did not share an outside wall, she could not tell if it was light or dark, clear or stormy outside.

  "Oh, aye," Firtha replied. "Come, I'll fetch yer cloak before we go."

  Anice closed the record books, straightened her writing supplies, and pushed her chair closer to the table. Following Firtha through the keep, it was just a short time before she left the chill of the hall and stood in the bright rays of the sun.

  Wrapping her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she breathed the cold, crisp air deeply into her lungs.

  After deciding to stay within the castle's walls, she and Firtha circled the keep in a brisk walk. She felt better, clearer-minded, and more in control than she'd felt in weeks. And she had Robert to thank for it.

  * ~ * ~ *

  He spit out a mouthful of dirt and pushed his hair out of his face. 'Twas his own fault and no one else's. He should have known that Brodie would grow up and be bigger than him, even as he was back when they knew each other. Well, he'd started this, he would finish it. Rising swiftly from his crouch, he leapt up and tackled Brodie. Aiming at his waist, Robert hoped to unbalance his opponent and take him down. His maneuver worked, but he crashed to the ground along with his childhood friend. Brodie must have realized the battle was over for he lay back on the cold, hard soil of the practice yard and let out a loud raucous laugh.

  "I enjoyed that, Robbie," Brodie said as he climbed to his feet and extended a hand out to him. "'Tis glad I am to have ye back with us."

  "Was there no one to give ye sport these eight years?" Robert rubbed the dirt and sweat off his clammy torso with a piece of plaid and accepted a dipperful of water from a lad with a bucket. Stripped down to his trews, he enjoyed the air cooling his body after his bout of wrestling.

  "A few have tried, my friend, but none have done as well as ye."

  They laughed once more together and Robert gathered his clothes from the ground. Walking towards the perimeter of the practice yard, he spied Anice and her maid approaching on the path from the keep. He quickly tugged his shirt over his head as they came to a stop on the other side of the fence.

  "My... Anice," he stuttered, only now noticing how pale and breathless she was. "Are ye no' well?"

  Unthinking, he reached out to touch her cheek and felt a flush of embarrassment as she backed away from him, leaving his hand awkwardly in the air between them. He really would need to remember not to get close to her and he needed to not stumble over her name each time he said it. Anice. Anice was quite a simple, plain name.

  "I am well, Robert. Brodie, 'tis good to have you home again." Anice looked at Brodie and smiled. It was not much of one, but more than Robert had yet seen on her.

  "'Tis good to be home, Anice." He watched as his childhood friend colored under Anice's attention. "Have ye been to see Rachelle while I was gone?"

  "I fear not." A silence followed her brief answer as Brodie obviously waited for more and Anice obviously was not giving it. Robert cleared his throat and Brodie finally spoke.

  "Well, then, both ye and Robert will need to stop by as soon as ye can. Robbie, ye must meet my wife while yer here."

  "I would like that," Robert answered.

  "Anice, you should not stay out in the cold much longer." Firtha's comment was clearly an order to return inside.

  "Oh, aye, Firtha," she mumbled. "Brodie, I will visit with Rachelle soon. Robert." With a nod at him, she turned and walked with her maid back to the keep. He did not miss the maid's mouthed words of thanks over Anice's head.

  "What was that about?" Brodie wrapped his plaid over his shoulders.

  "I asked Anice to keep the books for me."

  "Did ye now? I am certain that pleased her. Why did ye do that?"

  "Struan haes asked me to oversee some tasks in the village and so I asked her to take care of the records for me."

  "And your real reason, since I ken that yer duties in Dunbarton included much more than books and buildings?" Brodie had discerned some of his reasons already.

  Robert leaned up against the fence that surrounded the practice yard and adjusted his own plaid. His own investigation of Anice had led him to believe that she needed something to occupy her time. That she sank deeper and deeper into worry and unhappiness as the babe's birth approached. And for a reason he could not yet name, he had wanted to help her, to give her something to do, to lift her spirits. He'd had no idea that the simple assigning of a task would have been the thing that made her smile.

  "Anice needs to keep busy while she waits for the bairn."

  Brodie simply grunted in response.

  "Why isn't he here?"

  "Who?"

  "Ye ken—Alesander. Or should I call him 'Sandy' as Struan said he wishes to be called?" Robert couldn't keep the sneer out of his voice.

  "Believe me, we need him not now that he haes done his duty to the clan." Disgust and disdain filled Brodie's voice, too. Mayhap he would tell Robert more.

  "His duty? Oh, ye mean marrying the MacNab's daughter and getting an heir on her? Aye, he's done that, but what about being here while she bears that heir? Or training with his own clan instead of traipsing around London with the king?" Robert cleared his throat once more but this time spit on the ground. Even just talking about his half-brother made his mouth bitter.

  "If ye have no' found out yet, Robert, the clan is just fine with him being in London with the king." Brodie stood away from the fence and faced him squarely. "'Tis a fine thing ye did for Anice, asking for her help."

  Robert laughed. "'Tis selfish, plain and simple, my friend. I hate to keep the books and long to be outside."

  Brodie nodded in farewell. "I must see to Rachelle now. I have been away too long already. Come for dinner one night soon?"

  "I look forward to it, Brodie. And to meeting yer lovely wife."

  Brodie trotted off towards the gate and village and Robert watched with a sense of envy. Brodie was going home, to a place and a person who waited for him. A pang of wanting, so deep and strong that he could not breathe, shot through him. He leaned back once more, relying on the fence's strength to keep him on his feet. Just once, for just one moment, he wanted to feel the comfort of a home. Catching a glimpse of the very pregnant Anice entering the keep, Robert spit once more on the ground. So long as Sandy lived and was heir here, there was no place for him.

  * ~ * ~ *

  She concentrated on taking one step at a time. She concentrated on the amount of air that passed into her chest. She even concentrated on Firtha's inane chatter as they walked towards the keep. But none of that could calm her now.

  He was a warrior.

  Although not as large as Brodie, he was as muscular and as strongly built as any of the MacKendimens she'd ever seen. Watching in horrified fascination as he and Brodie wrestled, she was stunned into near panic by his strength and his ability to overpower someone much bigger and stronger than himself with his deft moves. Once again she was reminded of Alex, the distant relative of the clan who had visited last summer and who had been mistaken for Sandy due to his close resemblance. Alex had fought with Brodie as well, but at the time she was pleased by his prowess and manly form. The anticipation of being held by him had been welcome... then.

  One thing was clear—he was not a steward. Those muscles did not come from lifting barrels and chests of spices and foodstuffs. That strength came from working with other warriors, testing and being tes
ted in contests of might and endurance. Years of such training to reach the level of skill he had obviously reached.

  As she placed one foot in front of the other and nodded in spite of not hearing her maid's words, she knew that he was much more than a steward, a caretaker of the clan's goods and grounds. Did Struan know the extent of his abilities and skills? Struan was ever-vigilant about anything affecting the clan so she doubted that he did not already know of Robert's other talents. Mayhap that was why he had asked him to take care of other tasks outside the keep.

  Forcing a breath deeper inside of her, she tried to wipe from her mind the image of Robert, naked to the waist, deep in contemplation about his next move against Brodie. His face wore such a fierce and dangerous expression that she doubted she would ever forget it. And she must not.

  She must not ever forget that within any man was a core of unpredictability, when anger or lust or even fear could redirect his strength against an opponent, an enemy, a wife. She must not ever forget the hardest lesson she'd learned in her life.

  Never trust a man.

  * ~ * ~ *

  The next month passed by quickly for him and for the clan.

  Taking advantage of some unseasonably clear weather, repairs were made and even some new buildings begun. The people of Dunnedin knew that more storms would reach their village before the spring finally claimed victory over the harsh winter.

  Dougal sank closer and closer to death; even Moira was surprised that he clung to life as long as he did. Robert visited daily, most of the time sitting quietly or reading next to the man who raised him. Memories of the years before Dougal discovered the truth of his parentage filled his mind during these quiet times. Before the bitterness took control, Dougal had been a doting father to him, proud of his every accomplishment and milestone of growth. Now though, few words spoken and few truths revealed. Then one day, as the skies above grew darker and heavier with a coming storm, Dougal gave up his thin hold on this life and moved through death. Even after months of preparing for Dougal's passing, Robert was not certain what he felt for the man who died and the man who he buried among the others in the MacKendimen graveyard.

  Anice waddled and grew even bigger as her time approached. The dark circles under her eyes also grew and made her look even more haunted, more vulnerable. To what or whom, he could only guess, since no one in the clan ever spoke her husband's name in her presence. He stopped as well, after those first few times, since he had drawn his own conclusions about the state of their marriage and the imminent birth.

  As Moira had directed him to, he summoned Ada from Dunbarton. Robert still did not understand the need for her to be in Dunnedin, but no one argued with Moira when she turned that look and that voice on them. His old friend found a place among the old ones of the clan and was accepted quickly.

  But the air was filled with a spark of anticipation, as if a scent of danger were in the wind and everyone smelled it. A certain wariness filled the people of Dunnedin and the clan waited for the reassurance of the spring, and the birth of the clan's heir. And true to form, in what seemed to be an attempt by nature to keep the coming events at bay, a series of violent early spring snowstorms rolled through the mountains and covered the village and keep.

  Chapter 10

  The icy blast of air that forced its way through the small opening she'd created took her breath away. 'Twas difficult to believe that spring approached at all when the weather took this turn. Leaning against the door with all the weight she now carried, Anice closed and secured the latch to keep it from blowing open.

  "Here now, Anice. Come away from there before ye freeze."

  Startled by Moira's voice, she turned quickly to face her. Moira sat some distance away, in front of a blazing fire. And with her was the old woman Robert had brought from Dunbarton. Ada, that was her name. Nodding at Moira, Anice walked to where they sat. A chair and stool awaited her there.

  "Och, now, lass. Here, ye should be sitting afore the warmth with yer feet raised. We have a place ready for ye." The old one spoke and her soft tone of voice washed over Anice like a warm and welcome embrace. She'd spoken to her but a few times and the experience was always the same.

  "Thank you, Ada." She smiled as she sank onto the wide-armed chair with its cushions. "This spring storm is colder and wilder than I ever remember seeing in Dunnedin these last few years." Anice settled into the most comfortable position she could find and allowed the two women, the two healers, to raise her feet onto the bench in front of her.

  Moira sat back and picked up some mending from the basket at her feet. Anice reached out to Moira and took what she offered. Sewing and mending was something she could do and her size did not interfere. Actually, her large belly even made a convenient shelf for her to rest her arms on. After a few minutes of stitching, Anice noticed the two other women exchanging glances.

  "I was about to seek ye out, Anice," Moira started. "I have some news and wanted to share it with ye myself."

  Trying to maintain her calm, Anice waited for this news. It could not be good, for there was an air of nervousness about both Moira and Ada.

  "First, I am expecting a babe of my own, sometime near Michaelmas Day."

  "Truly, Moira? You do not even show yet!" Anice glanced at the woman's small stature and then took Moira's hand in hers and patted it. "You feel well?"

  "Now who is clucking like a hen?" Moira laughed. "I am well and Pol is strutting around as though he accomplished a feat unknown to man!" The women laughed together for a few moments.

  "There is more news?" Anice knew, she could feel that there was more to be told.

  "I have told ye about my sister, Margaret."

  "She married a Montgomery from the Borders?" Anice asked, while nodding her remembrance. Margaret was a year older than Moira and left Dunnedin shortly after Anice's arrival there.

  "Well, she is carrying once more and is verra near her own time. The pregnancy haes been a difficult one for her and with her losing two bairns afore this, we fear for her and the babe she carries now."

  "Is there anything that can be done?" Anice did not think anything but prayers could help and, being so close to her own delivery, she did not want to think too much on it. But Moira's words were leading to something.

  "I couldna be with her the last two times and I promised her I would be there with her for this birth. Pol and I leave in the morn for her village on the Borders."

  Anice stopped sewing and stared at Moira. The unstoppable terror seeped through her. Tremors crept up her back as though someone had walked on her grave. Anice could not identify what she feared, or put into words her objections; she only knew she could feel the fear taking control of her. Moira was her link to safety and she needed her there.

  "But, Moira," she stammered. "The weather is dangerous now."

  "Aye, Anice, 'tis no' the best time to be leaving the safety of Dunnedin, but I must." Moira took her hand and clasped it tightly. "I must."

  "Will ye...?" Her voice gave out even trying to ask. Her throat tightened and her breaths turned to gasps.

  "Here, now, lass," Ada said. The old woman took Anice's other hand and wrapped it inside her own two. The woman's warmth battled with fear's icy hold. "I ken ye fear what lies afore ye in yer own time. I will be here while Moira travels to her sister's and back again. If ye have need of me, I will be here for ye."

  The heat in Ada's hands began to travel up her arm and into her body, forcing terror's grip to loosen. Soon, she could breathe again and the clammy sweat on her brow lessened. Ada's words and touch soothed her, calmed her, called to the reason within her. Anice hated this. She hated the powerlessness she felt when the terror within pushed its way out and took control of her body and her life. There was something within the old woman that offered her comfort and gave her strength. Mayhap her presence would indeed get her through in Moira's absence.

  Moira released her hand and smiled at her. Anice relaxed as much as she could against the chair, trying to let t
he rest of the tension flow from her.

  "Ada haes some healing talents, Anice. And she kens many of my recipes already. 'Tis why I had Robert bring her from Dunbarton."

  "But Ada arrived weeks ago, Moira. Why have ye said nothing until now?" Looking at Moira, she knew that the seer had already known what was to come. What else did the woman know?

  "I have only seen bairns being born, two boys and two girls," Moira answered without the question being asked.

  "Four babes? But how?"

  "Either one of us will give birth to twins or someone haes no' shared their news with us yet...." Moira's eyes twinkled as she spoke. She knew more than she would reveal; her "wisdom" was never completely shared with others and Anice was certain that Moira held some knowledge closely, even now. Moira stood and nodded to Ada.

  "I must make my way back to my cottage and prepare for the journey ahead. Anice, ye should get acquainted with Ada for a bit. I will no' see ye afore I leave in the morn so I give my farewell now."

  "God go with you, Moira. I will keep your sister in my prayers," Anice said.

  "That's a good lass," Moira told her. "I will be gone but a few weeks and be back in plenty of time for the birth of yer wee one. Dinna fear."

  Moira gathered up her basket and sack and walked toward the kitchens. Anice was so puzzled by the expression that had entered Moira's gaze as she promised to be back in time, that she missed Ada's words.

  "Pardon me," Anice mumbled. "I did not hear your question."

  "Tell me about yer own maither. Did she give birth easily? How many did she bear?" Ada asked.