Nan always made the best meat pasties, thick with hearty gravy and meat so tender, it fell apart with the same ease as did the flaking, salty crust.
She’d hurriedly excused herself after that, followed by Piquette, who had required several callings to abandon the warm room full of wonderful smells. Next, she met with the chatelaine, an aging woman named Sarah, who spoke with a slow drawl. A painfully slow drawl. Each word was carefully rolled out in such a manner, Anice found herself biting her tongue to keep from finishing the woman’s sentences.
It was a direct contrast to Werrick Castle’s chatelaine, Rohesia, who ran the household with clipped efficiency. She had an authoritative stare that could make a cat leap to attention and her wiry body possessed strength only a warrior could rival.
After confirming the proper days for laundry and dusting and hearth sweeping, Anice went to inspect the garden. Being early spring, it should be primed with rich black soil, awaiting seeds. Possibly beginning to sprout soon if the seeds had already been planted, as the ones at Werrick had.
She pushed through the solid wooden door, noting the need for grease on the squealing hinges, and stopped short. A tangle of stems and various foliage showed bits of withered leaves where beans had once grown. Or possibly basil. Or mayhap peppers. It was impossible to tell for certain when not one plant was discernible from the next.
It would take at least a week to clear out the sprawling garden, let alone prepare it properly for planting. And if this was what the castle gardens looked like, what condition were the fields in?
Heat swept through her, prickling her brow and tingling at her eyes. A familiar tension knotted in her throat. She would not cry. Not here. Not now.
She twisted the little ruby ring on her finger, her nail grazing the one beside it, the one James had given her. He had been similarly busy, and she had seen little of him. He came to bed long after she’d gone to sleep, rising before she roused.
She clenched her fists, as though she could similarly allay the storm of emotion threatening her control. A pathetic little whimper escaped her. Piquette edged closer and nudged her hand with his cold nose.
It wasn’t the state of disrepair of the grounds that so affected her, but the emptiness of Caldrick Castle, when Werrick had been so full, of order, of people, of love.
She had not known the pain of missing her home would be so great.
She did not want to be at Caldrick Castle with its unfamiliar people and its choked garden. Her soul ached to be home, around the warm company of her sisters, in a world of organized perfection. She knew her life there, she fit perfectly. Here she was dislodged, like a broken pin set to tough fabric.
Piquette nudged her hard with his massive head, seeking confirmation that she was well.
“Not now,” she choked out.
The liquid brown eyes gazing up at her remained locked in place, drinking in her sorrow and returning solace in its place, the way only a faithful companion could do. It was his need to offer such comfort that broke the dam.
In spite of her resolute control, tears ran down her cheeks and the sobs choked from her throat.
The door behind her sounded. Anice quickly put her back to it and scrubbed her hand over her cheeks.
“Lady Anice.” The deep voice carried with it the familiarity of home and family. “Are ye well, my lady? Has someone hurt ye?”
“I’m well,” she croaked.
“Forgive me, my lady, but it does not appear ye are.” Drake appeared in front of her, but she did not look up at him. “Will ye tell me what’s happened?”
She shook her head. “It’s foolish, really. It’s only that I…I just…things here are…it isn’t…”
“It isna the same as Werrick Castle?” He surmised gently. “And ye miss yer family.” He spoke with such understanding. And of course he did understand; after all, he’d been forced to leave home at an early age to provide an income for his mother and sisters.
Anice nodded miserably. “Will it always feel this way?”
“It will get better.” His hands were folded across his chest. But the ache in her soul wanted the comfort of an embrace.
The very idea choked a sob from her throat again. “Forgive me, I—”
Drake hesitated and then slightly opened his arms, whether intentionally to her, or in preparation to move. Her body reacted before her mind could stop it. She practically ran into them as her tears fell.
He smelled like the leather from the stables that Peter cared for, and like hot bread Nan pulled from the ovens. Like home. She turned into him and buried her face into his chest to breathe it all in. It scorched and soothed her heart in one painful, wonderful inhale.
Drake, who was usually one to pull away from such an inappropriate embrace, put his arms around her and held her. He was strength when she needed it, and familiarity in a world that was foreign. “Ye’re a strong woman, Lady Anice, a daughter of the Earl of Werrick, and yer heart is good. This isna anything ye canna handle.”
He was right. She was a daughter of Werrick. She had gone out to the enemy, starving and vulnerable, and had come up with a way to end the siege. And now she was weeping at the sight of a ruined garden.
She pulled away and swiped the tears from her cheeks.
“Forgive me, my lady.” He drew his arms from her, and a flush of color stained his face. “I shouldna have—” he pressed his lips to stop himself. “Ye’re fully recovered?”
She nodded again. “Thank you. I’m much better now.” And she was. She had needed only the reminder of her own strength to restore her mettle. “And I do believe I practically forced you to embrace me.” She gave an embarrassed chuckle.
“I am here for anything my lady needs.” Drake tucked his arms behind his back. “And if anyone hurts ye, I ask that ye tell me at once. Even if it’s yer husband.”
“James would never hurt me,” she protested.
“Of course.” He inclined his head, a servant agreeing unfailingly with their masters, rather than in a way that signified his belief of her words.
Heavy silence followed, one she hoped he would fill with words to express how he truly felt about his new location, especially after she had given in so violently to her own emotions. Soldier that he was, he remained quiet, his hard jaw locked with secrets.
“Thank you, Drake. I believe I should like to go to my chambers to rest now.”
He snapped to attention, a warrior in need of a task. “I’ll escort ye.”
“I can manage,” she reassured him. Though guilt pinched at her for having said it. He was doubtfully as alien in this new home as she. “Forgive me,” she added as an afterthought.
“There is nothing to forgive, my lady.” He pulled open the heavy door with ease and held it for her.
Anice put her hand to Piquette’s warm back as they coursed through the snaking corridors of Caldrick Castle. In fact, they went through them several times. She became quite turned around and hopelessly lost in her own home.
James would not have believed it had he not seen it with his own eyes. Or mayhap he would have. If Morna had done it, why wouldn’t Anice?
Deep in his heart, he knew the truth of it. He hadn’t wanted to believe it. Not of Anice.
And yet, there they had been, in the tattered garden, Anice and Drake, locked in one another’s arms. James stormed through the castle, set on finding his cuckolding wife and— and what? He couldn’t ask for an annulment; his father had seen to that, crafty old goat that he was. He wouldn’t beat her, of course. He would never be that physical no matter what a woman did to him. He certainly wouldn’t beg for her fidelity.
Damn.
He turned the corner, and nearly tripped over a pony. Confused, he straightened to find not a pony, but Piquette tangled in his legs, and Anice fluttering about the two of them in a distracting attempt to help.
“Enough,” James growled.
Beast and wife alike froze.
“What are ye doing here?” James asked Anice.
“If I’m being entirely honest.” She swallowed and looked about. “I don’t know where I am. This whole castle, it looks the same from the inside.”
“Ye’re rooms are down that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction.
The tension melted from her face and a fragile smile wavered at the corners of her mouth. “Can you take me, please? I’d rather not get lost again. Poor Piquette is past due for a nap.” Her voice wavered somewhat.
Piquette gave a low grumble, as if confirming his mistress’s words.
“Aye.” Taking her to her room would give him the perfect opportunity to speak to her without a dozen ears straining toward their conversation. He would not have an audience for this discussion.
Regardless of his anger toward her, he offered her his arm. She was, after all, still his wife.
“Caldrick Castle is terribly confusing, don’t you agree?” she asked conversationally.
But he was not of a mind for small talk and simply grunted in reply.
“There are many rooms, though,” she offered. “When my sisters come to visit, they might each have their own room.”
He did not bother with so much as a grunt this time.
Her attempts at chatter fell silent as they walked through the door to her chamber.
Ava, a redhead who upon their arrival had been hastily pulled from the kitchens to act as Anice’s maid, bobbed a quick curtsey. “Good day, my lady. I—” the young woman cut off when James entered. “I can leave if ye like.”
“Aye.” James said this at the same time Anice answered, “Nay, that is not necessary.”
The woman looked between the two, and then bolted for a hasty departure. She closed the door behind her, leaving Anice and James alone.
He faced Anice, the hurt in his chest welling into anger—a far easier emotion to accept. It was then he noticed her eyes were red-rimmed and her small nose tinged with pink.
She put her hand to her face and turned her head from him. “Oh, don’t gaze at me so. I know I look a mess.”
“What would cause ye to look a mess, wife?” The edge in his tone skimmed his censure.
She went to the ewer and splashed water on her face. “I didn’t want you to find out.”
“What dinna ye want me to find out?” he said through his teeth.
She lifted a linen towel for drying. “That I, ugh.” She shook her head, clearly not wishing to divulge her admission. “That I was crying.” She turned to him with a chagrined expression. “I cannot remember the last time I cried and now my head is achy, and my eyes hurt. And I’m puffy.” She dabbed under her eyes with the bit of linen.
Suddenly the scene in the garden took on a different context. Not one of passion, but one of violence. “Are ye hurt? Did he hurt ye?”
“He?” Anice frowned and shook her head. “Nay, I’m unhurt. I feel so foolish confessing this to you. It’s only that I’ve never been away from my sisters for so long. My father, aye, when he was away on campaigns for the king, but not my sisters. And certainly not in a place so foreign to me. I couldn’t stop crying and poor Drake happened upon me. Doubtless, he wished he hadn’t. He’s so chivalrous and I all but fell into his arms in a weeping mess. I’m so embarrassed.”
The turn of events had occurred with such speed, James’s mind nearly snapped to keep pace. “Ye were upset because ye missed Werrick Castle?” he asked.
“Aye.” Anice sniffed and stroked Piquette’s head. The beast stared dotingly up at his mistress.
“And Drake comforted ye?”
Anice rolled her eyes. “Aye. I felt awful to have intruded upon his person. The poor man actually blushed.”
James grunted. He was sure the man did not blush and was even more certain the cur did not at all mind the “intrusion upon his person.”
“And ye dinna want me to find out?” James pressed. “Why?”
“I didn’t wish to burden you.” At this, Anice swept across the room toward him, her steps delicate and graceful, as every movement she made was. “You have much on your mind, I am sure. But I also did not wish to taint the start of our life together with my sorrow. It is but a longing for home and it will pass.” She put her hand in his. “This is the beginning of our marriage and I want it to be happy.”
The final word she spoke struck him. Happy.
Had he ever known happiness? Mayhap when he’d been a boy, when his mother was still alive. Or possibly in the quiet reconciliation of his time at Lord Bastionbury’s castle. But truly happy? Had he ever known such a thing?
“Oh, I forgot.” She turned away and went to a small trunk at the base of her bed. “This was already packed, and I could not give it to you with—well, I know you have been busy.” She gave him a shy, sensual look that heated his blood.
She knelt at the chest and sifted through a neat stack of contents. “I have a wedding present for you.”
“I dinna think the bride gives the groom a present.” Regardless, he stepped closer, drawn in by curiosity and her loveliness.
“Oh, but they do, and I had the perfect one purchased for you.” She drew out a book and lifted it to him.
He gazed at the smooth, leather binding of the costly tome as she got to her feet. “What do you think?” She beamed proudly at him. “’Tis a book on harvesting. I thought you might have it for reference.”
He ran his fingers over the gilt letters, their meaning incompressible. English, no doubt. He knew well how to read and write in Gaelic, but his mother had died before she could teach him English. His da had never cared to learn it for himself.
Anice watched him brightly, awaiting his response.
“This is the finest gift I’ve ever been given,” he said earnestly. And certainly it was. Books were costly, far beyond anything a reiver might ever consider owning when food and clothing were of more import. “Thank ye.”
“I’m so glad you like it.” She clasped the book and drew it from his hands, her movements slow and sensual, her expression coy.
His blood went hot.
“I’ve been…” His throat clogged and he had to clear it gruffly. “Busy. We havena had much time together since our arrival.”
She set the book aside and sauntered toward him. “Mmmhmm…”
The air had gone thinner and it was suddenly harder to draw breath.
She took his hands in hers and guided him to hold her waist. “There are better things to think about than what I’ve been dwelling on.”
The fabric of her gown was slippery under his palms. His caress glided up her body to the gentle swell of her breasts. “Oh?”
“Like you,” she breathed. “And me.”
His hands smoothed down this time to the sweet curve of her arse where his cupped hold fitted as though she’d been made for him. “Oh?”
She pressed her sensual curves to him. “Love me, James.” Her fingers worked under his shirt and ran cool, tingling lines over his abdomen.
“There is much to do about the castle.” Even as he said the words, his mouth lowered to hers. The saltiness of her tears lingered on her lips, and he kissed them away, as if he could do the same with her hurt.
“You will need an heir.” She guided his hand once more to the heat between her legs.
James groaned. There were tenants to visit, the steward and his list of ledgers, and—
Her fingers curled around the column of his cock.
And there was happiness to be had. For now, at least. And damn the consequences, for surely how bad could they be?
19
As it turned out, being absent for an hour had its consequences, and came in the form of a cluster of agitated tenants. The crowd of them hushed as he approached, scowling their disapproval.
The grumpy man from the day of their arrival was in the crowd, his mutterings causing those around him to bob their heads in agreement.
Engelbart made haste to James’s side. “The people have been waiting, Mr. Graham.”
“I’ve a favor to ask ye.” Jam
es leaned down to the lad’s height. “Will ye teach me how to read in English?”
Engelbart cocked his head in an inquisitive bird-like fashion. “Aye, of course.”
James nodded, pleased. He couldn’t read Anice’s book now, but he certainly would be able to later. How much harder could it possibly be than Gaelic?
The grumpy man threw his arms in the air and several women nearby shook their heads and tsked with what he’d said.
“Who is that man?” James nodded in the direction of the one riling up the crowd.
Engelbart clutched a parchment to his chest like a shield and regarded the man with a discreet side glance. “Tall Tam. He used to head the raids across the border.”
“Used to?” James regarded Tall Tam. His head rose above those around him, but not above James’s .
“Aye,” Engelbart confirmed. “He got nipped by an arrow in the arse on his last run and hasn’t been able to ride comfortably since. Now he works the fields.”
James strode through the crowd and ignored Engelbart’s squawk of protest. Tall Tam was so consumed by his own grousing, he did not see James approach, not until it was too late.
James stood over him, looking down at the shorter man. If there was anyone James knew how to manage, it was a reiver. “They say ye’re Tall Tam.”
The man looked up and squinted his eyes. “Aye. And ye’re our new master. Guess neither one of us lives up to our names, eh?”
“That remains to be seen in one of us.” James cupped the fingers of his right hand in the palm of his left and pressed them together. The knuckles popped audibly in the suddenly quiet room. The action also flexed James’s massive arms. “My wife isna here to protect ye this time.”
He took a step forward, and Tall Tam jerked one back.
“Ye’re going to regret yer obstinance.” James took another step and loomed over the man. “Go to the back of the line.”
The man blinked. “What?”
“I’ll resolve yer troubles last and ye best pray my temper calms by then.”
Anice's Bargain Page 15
