Anice's Bargain Page 5

  For now, at least.

  Reivers were always ready to be on the move, even when they’d been stationary for months. James’s life was a nomadic one, filled with constant movement and no real place to plant roots. If nothing else, he hoped this union would offer his clan a much-needed change.

  The reivers had cleared their camped position around Werrick Castle, despite the driving rain, leaving patches of the wet ground scarred by evidence of their occupation. When James entered the castle once more, he found Anice waiting for him with Piquette and the earl by her side. Another man stood with them, with reddish-brown hair and a face with creases at the corners of his eyes as though he smiled often.

  Piquette’s tail wagged with such excited ferocity, it rocked the dog’s massive body back and forth. He appeared the only one eager to see James and his father.

  The earl regarded them with his lips tucked downward in a sour expression. “Per the agreement, we bid you welcome to Werrick Castle.” Lines of tension wrinkled his forehead contrary to his civil tone. “I assumed you would prefer to look over your newfound wealth upon arrival. This is my steward, William.”

  His final words were hard with bitterness, not that James could blame the man. In one day, he’d lost a daughter and a portion of his fortune to his most hated enemy.

  The man with reddish-brown hair offered a slight smile at the introduction and nodded his head.

  “I dinna care to see.” James shifted the weight of his pack onto his shoulders. “But I’d like to be shown to my room.”

  “Ye may no’ wish to see,” Laird Graham said. “But I do.”

  The older man’s claim did not surprise James. Nor did the earl or his steward appear surprised.

  The earl inclined his head toward James. “I will call a servant.”

  “That isn’t necessary.” Anice waved James toward her. “I will show him to the guest chamber.”

  The earl frowned. “I do not think that would be appropriate.”

  “Forgive me, Papa, but I do not see any of this as being appropriate.” She lifted her brows. “Besides, Piquette will accompany us.” She stroked the dog’s large square head. With the ease of one who always got what they wanted, she turned to James. “Follow me.”

  The earl settled a hard stare on James in silent warning and motioned for Laird Graham and the steward to join him.

  James lifted his bag and made his way beside Anice. He wanted this time with her. Alone again. Where mayhap she might elaborate more on what she’d said earlier.

  “You do not wish to see your fortune?” Anice slid him a long stare as if she expected him to react. “Interesting.”

  “It was my da who wanted it, no’ me.”

  “What did you want?”

  “To stop the siege.” He adjusted the weight of his heavy pack from digging into his right shoulder. “How did ye acquire Piquette? He doesna seem like the typical lady’s dog.”

  “We are not in a typical location.” Anice’s hand reached out and stroked Piquette’s large head. The beast immediately gazed up with adoration, his jowls swinging with each step. “As you know the border can be a dangerous place. Our castle was breached once, and the destruction was…harrowing.” She paused, her gaze lost somewhere else. Her jaw clenched tight as she continued on.

  James tightened his grip on his bag. He knew well what she spoke of, but from a victor’s perspective. The raid had been traumatic for the people of Werrick Castle. He thanked God he had not been old enough at the time to join his clan in the attack.

  “Papa immediately set to building the castle wall to ensure our safety,” she continued. “To keep out those who would attack women and children.”

  Implication laced her statement like poison. She was obviously referring to reivers, and more specifically the Grahams.

  The reivers still told tales of their great spoils of war from that night, prior to being run off by the remaining soldiers. Ever since, his clan had been clamoring to get back in while the earl did everything in his power to keep them out.

  “My father wanted to ensure we would always be protected, especially after…” She looked away. “Especially after what happened to my mother.”

  James’s stomach clenched. Apparently Lady Werrick had been attacked, or killed. Or worse. He wanted to ask, but a cowardly part of him wished to remain ignorant to the extreme of their suffering.

  “My father had us—” she pressed her lips together. “He wanted to ensure we had protection at all times. Not that Piquette was much of a deterrent when we received him.” There was a curl to her mouth which pressed James to ask her to go on.

  “He was a squirmy warm thing.” Anice smiled at the memory. “Small, if you’d believe it. With a ready tongue for bestowing kisses upon us all and a brow that furrowed as though he were contemplating the world with an old man’s careful assessment.” At this, Anice puckered her brow, dramatically intimating the appearance of an old man. “And now…”

  She bent at the waist and took Piquette’s massive head in the cradle of her palms. Piquette’s tail whipped back and forth as he gazed affectionately at his mistress.

  “Now that he’s fully grown, all that thinking has made him serious and loyal and wonderful.” She gently ruffled her fingers through the dog’s fur, much to Piquette’s obvious enjoyment. He lapped eagerly at the air between them. Anice laughed, a sweet, clear note, and ducked her head to avoid the onslaught of canine affection.

  James couldn’t stop his own grin. This was a side of Anice he hadn’t expected, one of playfulness. In a moment such as this, her heart seemed open and kind.

  “Enough, my Piquette.” Though she spoke in a delicately chiding tone, the dog immediately stopped and sat. Anice bestowed a kiss to the top of the beast’s head and then straightened. “He has always been such a good and loyal companion.”

  Her joy reached her eyes in such a lovely way, James found himself mildly jealous of the large dog. Together, the three of them continued walking.

  “Ye said he was for the lot of ye,” James said. “But ye’re the one he follows about. How did ye come to win over his affection?”

  She laughed again. “Oh, I didn’t intend to. In truth, he seemed too serious a pet for me. But every time we would all sit beside the fire, he would wander his way over to me in that dreamy, sleepy way puppies do.” She danced her hands through the air like a wobbly puppy. “And he’d fall into my lap and sleep. He was so precious, I hadn’t the heart to wake him, and so I’d remain motionless until he woke and bounded off once more.”

  “It appears he’s no’ left ye since.” James wanted to keep her talking, to observe the happy expression glow over her fine features, and the graceful movements of her hands as she illustrated her story.

  “He hasn’t.” She leaned a bit closer and whispered, “And I’m glad for it.”

  They’d stopped walking as they came to a door. “This is where you will be staying until…” A flush crept up Anice’s neck. “This is your chamber.”

  He regarded the blank door. He’d been so captivated by her story of Piquette, he hadn’t paid any notice to the path they’d walked to get there. Mayhap she would be kind enough to guide him there again later if he could not find it again.

  He nodded his thanks to her, but she did not leave, and he was glad for it.

  “I wanted to thank you,” she said slowly.

  He lifted his brows.

  “For the betrothal present of dried meat.” She twisted a small ruby ring on her hand. “It was much needed by me and my family.”

  James frowned. It hadn’t been meant for her to share. If she shared it with all of her sisters and her father, there wouldn’t have been much left for her. “Ye’re to be my wife, Lady Anice. I will always care for ye.”

  She stared up at him and silence stretched between them. However, where it had been long and uncomfortable previously, it was now pleasant, more intimate. Her expression was soft with consideration and for the briefest of moments, her
gaze dipped to his mouth. The way a lass looked at a man she wanted a kiss from.

  6

  James let his gaze linger on Anice’s lovely face, getting to truly study her for the first time. Her features were without flaw; so exquisite, she made Morna appear plain by comparison. A feat James would have thought impossible.

  The idea did not sit comfortably in his stomach. Nor did the thought of kissing Anice. Not now, at least. He knew well the reputation of the Grahams, and of what some of the crueler men in their ranks were capable of doing. He’d been disgusted by such things, but his father never sought to punish the offenders. Yet another change he would implement when he was laird.

  But he would not now kiss Anice for fear of making her assume he was like them. “I should go inside.” He indicated the door.

  “Aye.” Anice set one graceful hand to the latch and opened the door for him.

  To his surprise, she entered first, leading him into his chamber. The furnishings inside were fine, the kind his father and the older men of the clan discussed often when detailing their raid almost fifteen summers prior.

  The great four-poster bed had green velvet trappings on either side so one might close themselves within at night, and a large trunk at its foot. A far cry from his bedroll in the pele tower. Tapestries hung from the wall, the colorful thread glinting with silk and gilt. If all the rooms were as well appointed as his, and all the daughters dressed as finely as Anice, it was no wonder his father had circled back to Werrick to test its impenetrable walls.

  James put his bag on the floor beside the bed, unwilling to set the dirt-crusted leather upon the neatly made bed. “This is verra fine.” He glanced at Anice where she stood just inside the threshold of the room.

  Piquette strolled past her and settled onto the floor by the unlit hearth with a great whump. Anice considered the dog first, then turned her attention to James. “Why did you not go with your father?”

  Her question had been asked casually enough, but the intensity of her expression indicated his answer was of great import. He decided to go with what he knew best—the truth.

  “I dinna want ye to think I was marrying ye for yer fortune.”

  “Ah, yes. The man who does not want power or influence or wealth.” She recited the words coyly. “Or beauty.” She smirked and held up her hand with her fingers splayed. “However, you are a laird’s son.” She folded down her pointer finger. “You will marry into a good amount of land in one of England’s prime locations along its border.” She folded down her middle finger. “Those lands will yield a considerable amount of coin.” She folded down her ring finger.

  “And then there’s ye.” He gently folded down her small pinky. He’d spoken without considering his words and immediately regretted them. Flattery to beauty was as dangerous as oil to an open flame.

  She lifted a brow. “It would appear you have everything anyone else would want without wanting any of it. Tell me, why did you agree to marry me?”

  “Ye’re clever.” He stepped closer to her and Piquette did not so much as stir, apparently comfortable with him after their time together at camp outside the castle walls. “Ye dinna take things at their immediate worth, do ye?”

  She said nothing, but nor did she move back as he stepped closer still, so that they were nearly touching. Her floral scent teased at him, light and sweet and delightful. Like her.

  “I dinna want this siege.” He smoothed a hand down his beard.

  Her gaze remained locked on his, a challenge, or perhaps an invitation. “Why didn’t you leave?”

  “I thought I might do some good in staying.” He could practically sense the warmth of her body radiating through his clothing. He should move back, put space between them.

  Her lips quirked. “It would appear you did.”

  “Aye.”

  Her mouth was perfectly shaped, plush and entirely too kissable. Had she been kissed by another? Would he be her first?

  Her breath drew in softly and her body swayed slightly closer, as if she were being drawn toward him. He tentatively put his hand to her cheek and her lashes swept down. Her cheek was warm, her skin soft. So, so soft. He swept the pad of his thumb over her high cheekbone and she opened her eyes to gaze up at him.

  Desire burned her gaze, bright with curiosity and unmistakable. Another woman had looked at him once with the same smoldering innocence, and he’d sacrificed too damn much for her.

  He wished Anice was not so appealing, or that he was handsome, the kind of man worthy of such loveliness. And he wished like hell he didn’t want to kiss her.

  Like a moth drawn to a fatal flame, he lowered his face to hers. He had meant the kiss to be gentle, a delicate brushing of their lips, a taste of that full mouth. It had started off as such. At first. The initial connection had been almost imperceptible. Not enough.

  He nudged the underside of her chin with his fingertips and she lifted her face toward his. Her lips were petal soft, warm and wonderful and sent a delightful sizzle of desire through his veins. Still, he’d carefully held back, until her mouth moved against his own, bold and inviting.

  He caressed her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and she gave an eager gasp. His hands cupped her face, cradling her as he swept his tongue into her mouth. She tasted fresh, like water, clean and pure. It made him hungry for more, for her.

  She gave a soft moan and the length of her body pressed against him.

  A powerful knock sounded, and they leapt apart like guilty children. Anice gave a shy laugh and tucked a lock of stray hair behind her ear. James smiled in spite of himself and went to the door, which had thankfully been closed. Piquette continued to sleep soundly at the cold hearth.

  A Werrick soldier entered, his handsome face stern. He looked first to Anice and then to James and his jaw went tight. It was only a simple reaction, but it was enough.

  The soldier was clearly protective, displeased to find James and Anice together alone. This man might very well be in love with her, as was the way with men when it came to bonny women.

  “Drake.” Anice stepped forward and touched the man’s sleeve. It was an innocent touch, but it sank into James’s chest in a shard of bitter jealousy.

  He was doing it again. Irritation at his own weakness lit like fire in his veins. He was letting himself warm toward a bonny woman. Surely, he’d learned his lesson the first time.

  The ruby ring winked on Anice’s right hand. Her kiss had been too eager. Had she had a lover previously? Mayhap the ring had been a gift from one.

  He forced his thoughts from the idea. He may have to marry Anice, and he would share her bed, but he would keep his heart well-guarded. The pain and humiliation of his last betrayal had ached more than his near-fatal battle wound.

  The soldier, Drake, turned his intense black gaze on James. “I was told to summon ye. Laird Graham is gravely ill and has been taken to his chamber.”

  James went still with the news. His da had been ill, and certainly weak, aye, but James hadn’t expected his death so soon. Not yet. “Has a priest been summoned?” he asked.

  “Our healer is exceptional,” Anice said to James before giving her attention back to the handsome man. “Has Isla been sent to him yet?”

  “I tried, my lady.” Drake offered. “She refuses to come. She’s in the kitchen with Nan—”

  “Take James to his father’s rooms. I will see to Isla.” Anice stepped through the open doorway and called over her shoulder for Piquette. The dog blinked open tired eyes and hefted himself to his feet to trudge after her. Anice quickly departed the room without ever having glanced in James’s direction, no doubt regretful at their shared kiss.

  Drake did not speak as he led the way to Laird Graham’s room. It was for the best. James had nothing to say to the handsome young man.

  Inside, the chamber was thick with heat from the newly started fire, the windows shuttered against the outside air. The curtains to the massive bed were parted to reveal a slender frame lying prone.

/>   James rushed to his father’s side, surprised how frail the great Laird Graham appeared. His da’s skin had faded to a gray pallor and his narrow chest rattled with each wheezing breath.

  Never had James seen his father in such poor condition. So withered and shrunken in on himself, it was as though the old man was already dead, as though James had already lost him.

  The rich scent of cooking stew drew Anice toward the kitchen as surely as did her purpose. Her mouth watered and her stomach clenched with the want of nourishment. For food and the pleasure of taste, of chewing.

  Hunger buzzed through her and Piquette panted at her side with intermittent whines.

  “I know.” She smoothed a hand over the top of his head. “We must get Isla though, for the sake of Laird Graham, and for the sake of all of us as well.” Speaking aloud was more for her resolve than it was for Piquette’s benefit.

  It would be all too easy to sit down with a large bowl of stew, the gravy thick and rich, the meat tender and savory. She could practically feel the greasy thickness of it against her lips and gave a whimper of her own.

  Such thoughts were impractical and detracting. Isla. She needed Isla.

  She found the aged healer locked in deep discussion with the cook.

  Isla peered around Nan toward a large pot sizzling over the fire. “Dinna use so much goose fat.”

  “I don’t instruct you on the art of healing.” Nan swelled out her bosom. “Don’t you dare instruct me on the cooking of my food. This is my kitchen and I’ll have you gone.”

  Various food stuffs were piled in neat stacks, more food than any of them had seen in months. However, it was not nearly as much as they had received in prior deliveries. No doubt the Graham forces had depleted the village of their usual stores.

  “Isla, you’re needed,” Anice said.

  The arguing stopped abruptly and both women turned to stare at her.

  Isla narrowed her tawny eyes, which made them nearly disappear beneath the etched wrinkles on her aged face. “If this is about Laird Graham, I dinna care to aid the whoreson.”