Since Ramsey was already father to three children and Firtha a widow herself, there was none of the embarrassment at the comments and suggestions offered to the newly married couple. Although she would go to live in his cottage, Firtha would continue to serve as Anice's maid and companion. That arrangement would change soon because Anice had no intention of keeping Firtha at the keep when she would be needed to care for Ramsey's children and for him as well. A wife's place...
It was good to see her cousin Wynda, who had traveled to be there for the festivities. Her parents had not come to Dunnedin. Indeed, she had not seen them since her own wedding and had no expectation of seeing them soon. She had lived so long with the MacKendimens that the MacNabs were part of her distant past. She belonged to Dunnedin now.
As if Anice had called her name, Wynda approached and sat next to her. Accepting her offer to hold Craig, Anice passed the babe to her and stood. A drink and some food would be welcome about now. She had missed the main meal nursing Craig and the noises her belly made told her it was time now to feed herself. Spotting Struan in his chair on the dais, she climbed the few steps to see if he needed anything. Some of the men and elders sat sprawled around him, but he had such an expression of loss and sadness on his face and in his eyes that he looked alone even within the group.
She'd never spoken to him of Sandy's death and he'd so far not brought the subject up with her, but she wondered if his son's death was the cause of his change in appearance and health. There was but one way to describe him now—Struan had grown old since Sandy died.
"Struan? Have you the need for anything? Drink? Food?" she asked as she approached. "I am about to serve myself something from the tables and would bring you something."
He blinked a few times and then looked at her. It was then she noticed the parchments in front of him on the table. They bore her father's seal. She walked closer, trying to get a better view of them, but he took notice of her curiosity and folded them together and tucked them inside his sporran.
"Nay, lass. I have what I need here," he said, lifting his mug for her to see.
An outbreak of laughter in the back of the hall caught her attention. She saw Robert arm-wrestling at one of the tables. Rachelle and Robena and a small group of men stood nearby cheering him on in his efforts to best Lachlan, a huge bull of a man who served as captain of the guards and who seldom lost such contests. She would like nothing better than to run down and join them in their amusement but several things stopped her.
Struan had been very clear in his feelings about her keeping to her place where Robert and the others were concerned. Also, this was Robert's last night in Dunnedin and she did not want to interrupt him and his friends. Well, that was not exactly true—she wanted to speak to him, to spend some time with him discussing his plans.
There was a part of her, deep inside and well-controlled, that wanted to ask him to stay, to work with her for the clan, to continue the only comfortable relationship she ever had or could imagine having with a man. She did not understand the animosity between Struan and him, but Struan made it clear that it was not something he would discuss.
And forcing the issue was not appropriate since the laird made all the decisions. Lady Anice knew her place and kept to it. So now she watched Robert's activities from the distance and knew that he would likely leave without exchanging so much as a word of farewell with her.
Her attempts to thank him had met with varied success. Robena was now a familiar face in the hall and her behavior was never a problem. He was leaving with a full array of clothing that fit him and was in good repair. The unexplained black eyes and broken nose she could do nothing about. Even when she asked others how he got them, she never did get a clear explanation.
"He would not stay?" she asked as Robert stood and raised his arms, the obvious winner of his challenge.
"He canna stay."
"He cannot? I do not understand, Struan. Surely you could find a place for him here. His skills are apparent in dealing with the warriors and overseeing the guards."
"He wants more than he can ever have here, Anice. If I asked him to stay on, 'twould bring problems for the clan." When she would have answered him, he motioned her off with a wave of his hand. "Ye dinna ken all that I ken about this, Anice. Remember yer place and leave the clan's affairs to those who can make those decisions."
She felt the heat rush up into her cheeks and looked away from him. Stepping back, she turned to go. The embarrassment of being dismissed by Struan in this manner, and when the others at the table clearly heard his words, drove her away.
"Anice," he called as she made her way down the steps.
"Aye, Laird." She did not turn back to face him.
"Meet me in the solar in the morning after ye break yer fast. Yer father haes sent me word of something he wishes ye to ken."
"I am not busy now, Laird. We could..." She turned to him now.
"Nay. The morn will be soon enough. Enjoy yer maid's celebration and see me in the morn."
A sense of foreboding filled her with wariness. What could her father have sent word about that it should not come directly to her? He knew she could read and write; there was no need to use an intermediary. Struan had made it clear that he would see her in the morning, so she decided she would retire early with the babe. Mayhap sleeping would make it go faster.
She reclaimed Craig from her cousin and took him to the chambers they shared. It took a bit of time to calm him down from the excitement of the hall, but soon Craig was tucked in for the night. Anice climbed into her own bed and, after saying her nightly prayers, pulled the covers up and tried to sleep.
She wished she could blame it on the noise from the celebration below, but it was quiet here on the third floor. She lay in bed, listening to the wind outside her window, listening for sounds of the babe moving in his cradle nearby and even listening to the sound of her own breathing, The keep settled down for the night and she was still awake.
Anice tried pacing her room to make her relax enough to sleep. It did not work. She checked and rechecked Craig, almost hoping that he would stir and give her something to do. He had just recently begun sleeping through the whole night so he slept on, blissfully unaware of the tension gripping her. Finally, on her tenth trip to the window, she saw the lightening of the sky telling her that dawn approached.
Craig woke as the sun did and she changed and fed him and then prepared herself to meet with Struan. Her stomach was queasy with anticipation so she did not even try to eat. The great room was nearly empty, a testament to the rejoicing and drinking that took place here last night. Then she noticed Struan enter the solar, at the same time she saw Robert carrying his sack towards the doorway.
"Robert," she called out, "a moment of your time please?"
He looked as though he would refuse her, but nodded and waited for her to approach. He let his bag slip to the ground and adjusted the sword at his side and the plaid thrown over his shoulder. This close, his face looked worse than it had from afar.
"You are leaving? Now?" she asked. A lump suddenly formed in her throat.
"Aye, my... Anice. I thought to stay until harvest, but Struan assures me all is well in hand now." He looked at her shoulder, he looked at her hands, but he would not look her in the eye.
"So, you would leave without a word of farewell, then?" She tried to lighten the moment by teasing him. It did not work. His expression grew even darker.
"I did no' think it wise to seek ye out. Struan haes made himself clear about yer place as a lady and mine as the son of the steward. Let us just say it now and I will be on my way."
"Well, then," she said, smoothing her sweaty palms against her skirt. "Godspeed go with you then, Robert. And once more, you have my thanks for all you did for me and my son." Tears began to fill her eyes and she blinked trying to clear them. This man had saved her life and her son's and was now simply leaving forever.
"Yer gratitude warms my heart, Anice, and will stay with me foreve
r," he said in a voice also growing rough. He bowed to her and then picked up his sack and turned to leave. He mumbled something else but she could not understand it. When she would have asked him, she saw Struan standing in the doorway of the solar, waiting for her. She stood motionless for a moment listening to the sound of Robert's boots on the stone floor before attending to the laird's business.
Struan stood within the solar, near the large hearth on the far side of the sunny room. The windows in here magnified any rays of the sun that they were favored with and the room was bright on most days. She walked to where he stood and waited.
"Sit, lass," he said, pointing to a chair.
She did so and waited once more as he paced from the hearth to the table and back again. He carried the parchment she'd seen last evening—the one he would not let her get a look at.
"Yer faither and I have been working for the last few months on an agreement. This is what he sent me and bade me to speak with ye about now."
"Speak to me? About what, Struan?"
"Yer marriage to Sandy and then birthing Craig haes sealed an alliance between our clans, Anice. Ye ken?"
She nodded. That was exactly what her marriage had been—a contract between Struan and her father. Each one gained an ally, each gained clear passage through the other clan's land as well as some property that had been exchanged. She gained a husband, she thought as an uncontrolled tremor raced through her, and Sandy gained a wife and heir. She could not be sorry that he was no longer here to enjoy the fruits of his labors.
"But, yer faither needs to seal a bargain with the MacLarens, his neighbors to the north. Since yer marriage is over, with Sandy, God rest his soul, he haes begun negotiations with the MacLaren for yer marriage to his eldest son."
Her mind fought believing the words he spoke to her. 'Twas simply not possible. She was a MacKendimen by marriage and her son would one day be laird here. She was a MacKendimen now; her place was secured as mother of the heir.
"Ye will have at least a year before this comes to pass, Anice. There's plenty of time to wean the bairn and see to his upbringing. The MacLaren heir haes just lost his own wife and willna be looking to marry until at least next summer. Plenty of time to work out the details and prepare for yer new life."
The room grew dark around her as she realized he spoke the truth of her father's plans. Chaos filled her thoughts and she was unable to speak as the completeness of these arrangements horrified her. They were marrying her off once more, taking her babe from her, and giving her to another man as wife.
"No' my babe," she whispered. Shaking her head, she began backing away from him. He matched her step for step and shook his own head.
"Nay, Anice. Let me explain."
"I am a MacKendimen, Struan. How can ye do this to me? Have I not done everything ye asked of me? I nearly lost my life twice for ye and this clan. How can ye...?"
"Shush now, lass. There is plenty of time to think this through and come to accept the wisdom of yer elders. The babe will be well taken care of. I will protect him and raise him as I did his faither."
"You will, Struan?" She turned and paced back and forth. "Will ye raise him to be the monster his father was? One who must be sent away in order to protect those in the clan? One who ends up dead in the mud with an arrow in his back?"
She gasped as she finally looked at Struan; his expression had turned to stone with her accusations. Struan staggered towards her and she thought her life was over. Pure rage filled his face and he raised one hand and he grabbed her blouse with the other, pulling her closer. She threw up her hands to protect herself but the blow never came.
They stood frozen there for what seemed like an eternity. She closed her eyes and could hear the wheezing breaths in his chest as he regained control of his temper. Finally, he released her and she stumbled backwards and onto the floor. Getting up on her knees, she crawled to where he stood and touched his boots.
"Please, Struan. Do not let my father do this. I beg ye for sanctuary here. As the mother of yer heir, I beg ye for help." She rubbed at her eyes and pushed her hair back from her face. "Please, Struan, please let me stay."
She felt his hands encircle her arms, pulling her to her feet. Once she had regained her balance, he let go and moved away.
"Ye are the only heir to the MacNab and the king himself haes given permission for yer faither to pursue this new alliance. I wouldna oppose ye if ye asked, and the MacLaren and his heir agreed, to keep the bairn with ye for some months after ye marry. If it will help ye settle in a bit easier, 'tis the least I can do for ye."
Stunned by the cruelty he offered as aid, she simply turned and walked away. Completely unable to accept any of it, she stumbled through the great room and up the stairs to her chambers. Iseabel, her new maid, stood as she entered and began to prattle about the babe. Anice did not stop her but did not hear her words either. Her mind was racing with too many emotions to listen to inane chatter. Her life was at stake once more and she needed to figure out a way to thwart these arrangements of her father's.
Finally, she took the babe in her arms and ordered Iseabel out of the rooms. Anice placed him up on her shoulder and walked to the window. Rocking back and forth, she just held on to him and searched her mind for a way out of this. But, as Struan had reminded her many, many times these last few months, she was a woman and not the one to make decisions about what happened to her or anyone else in the clan. Even her son, the one who almost cost her her life, was not hers. He was a MacKendimen, under the authority of the laird of his clan.
And she was a woman, under the authority of whichever man claimed her, be it father or husband. She should know her place.
Chapter 17
He was being followed. He was certain of it now. The hairs on the back of his neck had started tingling just before sundown and now as he set up his camp for the night, he knew what that sign meant. As he watered Dubh in a stream off the path, he thought about what he would do.
Stars already filled the clear summer sky as he found a sheltered place where his horse could graze. Robert hobbled him with the reins and prepared a plain meal of oatcakes and cheese from the supplies he'd brought with him from Dunnedin. There was an abundance of food available in the forests and glens of both the MacKendimen and the MacKillop land and neither laird begrudged his people the use of those resources. He could have tracked and killed any number of small birds and game, but he had no interest in working that hard for his meal. A few oatcakes and he could retire until morning.
Well, he could have if he had not caught sight of movement far behind him on the path. Now he would need to discover who was following him. This far off the drovers' lanes, he did not expect to find any of the clan or their cattle. Most were still in the summer grazing lands to the west of Dunnedin and would not return until the summer was done. Brodie's men had just traveled to one of the temporary villages carrying supplies meant to last those who watched over the cattle the rest of the season.
Robert ate his meager meal and waited for the moon to hang lower in the sky to cover his movements through the woods. Soon, he checked his weapons and, with sword in hand, began stealthily creeping through the trees. Careful not to make noise, he made his way for many yards until he saw a small Highland pony tied to a tree. Searching nearby, he saw a figure on the ground, tucked beneath the branches of a low tree and rolled in plaid. In the dark, he could not make out anything more of the person or the plaid. Unfortunately, he lost the element of surprise that should have been his when he stepped on a large branch and the crunching crack of it breaking traveled through the night.
He froze and waited to find out if his shadow had also heard the noise. The quick movement of the figure assured him that his mistake was heard. With a mumbled curse, the figure jumped up and, still wrapped in the length of wool, ran off towards the path. Robert followed, cursing his stupidity under his breath. Within a few strides, he had caught up with his quarry and grabbed for the tartan material that now dragged
behind. The person lurched and went down, first on their knees and then, with a muffled cry, they stumbled onto the ground.
It was the babe's cry that shocked him. Robert stood, his mouth open in disbelief, listening to the squealing infant. He approached from behind and used the point of his sword to prod the person. When they did not move, he used his booted foot to turn them over. Even in the dim light, he knew Anice's face. And he knew Craig's cry, which now grew in volume and strength. Kneeling beside her still form, he lifted the babe from his place within his mother's embrace, placed him up on his own shoulder, and then he checked Anice.
A bruise already swelled on her forehead; she must have hit her head on the ground or a rock as she tumbled. Seeing how she had cushioned Craig's fall, he knew that had been her concern. He tapped her cheek but she did not respond. He sat back on his heels and tried to figure out what had happened.
Why in God's holy name was she following him in the forest? Why was she camped out here, with her bairn, alone, this far from Dunnedin? None of this made sense and until she regained consciousness, none of it would. The babe finally quieted, sucking lightly on his thumb. When he had fallen back to sleep a few minutes later, Robert laid him carefully next to Anice on the ground. He traced his path back to her resting spot and gathered the few belongings he could find and led her pony back to her.
Checking to make certain the babe slept, Robert placed a blanket over the horse's back. He found the sling she used to carry the bairn and put it around his neck as he'd seen her do. Once everything was ready, he lifted Anice from the ground and laid her over the horse, adjusting her as best he could. Then he placed the babe within the cocoon of plaid and led the pony back to his own camp.
Walking slowly so that she wasn't jostled, it took a while to reach it. Once there, he spread his own plaid on the ground and laid the babe once more on it. Lifting Anice carefully off the pony, he cushioned her head as he laid her beside the bairn. He found his waterskin and tore a piece of a linen shirt in his bag to clean her forehead. The swelling concerned him, as did her lack of response when he tried to rouse her from her stupor. Doing what he could to help her, he realized he would have to wait for his answers, for he could think of no reason that would force Anice into the forest at night with her son.
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