Anice's Bargain Page 8

  Anice lifted her brows. “I do not think the Grahams capable of such a thing as love.”

  “Everyone is. Including the Grahams.” He released his hold on her. “And if ever there was one to lighten a dark heart, it is you, my beautiful daughter.”

  Anice pressed her lips together to still her argument. Her father did not understand James and his inability to be swayed by a woman’s comeliness. Now she would be spending the final few weeks of her independence leashed to James’s side. Her eyes stung with tears of indignation.

  “Go on, then, Daughter, light your candle for your mother.” Her father stroked a hand over Anice’s hair. “And then find your betrothed.”

  She studied her feet. A small stain showed on the toe of her right slipper, a splotch of black on the otherwise smooth leather. “How did you know the candle was for Mother?”

  Her father lifted Anice’s hand and gently touched the small ruby ring she wore, a gift from her mother. Before the Grahams had attacked and their world had fallen into chaos.

  “I assumed as much.” There was a sad wistfulness to her father’s tone. “For my candle is always for her as well.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead, released her hand and was gone. Anice stared down at the candle her father had lit and fought back tears. How she wished her mother was alive to offer guidance, or at least that Marin might be here with her sage advice.

  As it was, Anice had nothing but this foolish plan of her father’s and a significant amount of dread.

  9

  In the following week, Anice came up with reasons to remain near James’s side. If he was suspicious, he did not indicate as much. Their interactions remained cordial; their conversations often centered on Laird Graham’s improving health, the weather, or the reserve of food being restored at Werrick. At no point did either one of them bring up their impending marriage.

  Though Anice suspected it was not any further from his thoughts than it was from hers.

  The upcoming wedding was the very reason she had not donned the white and gold gown for the feast that eve. The celebration had been anticipated by all ever since the portcullis of Werrick could once more be opened safely.

  Isla, however, had maintained tight control on the mass quantities of food filling the larder. While unpopular, her orders were obeyed. Especially after an older man, who had been giving half his meager rations to his grandson, had died following his first hearty meal.

  Over the days following the Graham’s departure, various foods had slowly been added to their diets until Isla deemed it safe for them to consume as they like, which had then resulted in Anice’s father declaring a feast.

  She smoothed a hand down the green gown, skimming over the beads she’d sewn carefully onto the costly silk. The beads caught the light and twinkled with each movement. The perfect distraction for how the bones of her hips from the months of rationed food showed against the fabric.

  Her hair was left unbound and in soft curls, her cheeks and lips gently rouged to compensate for the naturally rosy glow lost during the siege. The darkened surface of the polished copper mirror reflected a woman still fine-looking even after hardship and starvation.

  She touched jasmine water to her neck and wrists and smoothed a bit over Piquette’s head as she bestowed a kiss onto his soft, russet-colored fur. For his part, Piquette looked quite handsome with a smart collar of dark blue silk studded with gemstones. Perhaps a trifle delicate for the dog whose breed had been trained to fell bears, but Piquette appeared to be rather proud of his distinguished appearance.

  She opened the door to make her way down to the great hall to discover James waiting in the empty hallway. He stood with his feet spread and his hands clasped in front of an elegant doublet, evidently borrowed, given how his thick wrists jutted out from the sleeves. His shoulder-length brown hair had been bound back from his face with a thong, revealing the definition of his strong jaw beneath a carefully trimmed beard. He smiled sheepishly at her, an endearing expression on such a large and intimidating man.

  He gave an apologetic shrug. “Ella insisted I wear this for the feast.”

  “You look very fine.” Anice replied. And truly, he did.

  James’s eyes ran over her and his brow furrowed. The bolster of confidence she’d gotten from the sparkling gown immediately fled, replaced by uncertainty.

  Did he not care for the dress? Or possibly the way she’d styled her hair? She patted at her tresses to smooth away any strands that might have strayed out of place.

  He smiled and it set her at ease. Until he spoke. “I see ye’ve put Piquette in a bonny collar.”

  Piquette’s ears perked up at his name and the crinkles on his forehead deepened. Anice rubbed a hand over Piquette’s head, careful to not muss his brushed hair, and was rewarded with a stare of adoration. “I thought he ought to dress for the occasion.” She paused and added with some significance. “It seemed only fair since we all have taken such pains to prepare.”

  James held his arm out to her as a courtier might do, entirely oblivious to her implication. She had spent the most considerable time of them all to ready, and he had not said a single word about how she looked.

  Anice suppressed a sigh, slid her hand into the crook of his warm arm and allowed him to lead her to the great hall. The lilt of music in the distance grew louder as they approached, along with the most heavenly aroma of all the foods they hadn’t eaten in months: roasted vegetables and gravy-laden meats and buttery rolls. A true feast.

  Anice’s mouth watered with the memory of such tastes. Every step led her closer, and her heart pounded so loudly with anticipation she could scarcely hear anything else. Her sisters already sat upon the dais with their father, and beside him was Laird Graham, engaged in lively conversation with Isla, his face glowing with good health.

  James led her to the table, and both took their seats to discover a goblet of fine wine waiting for them and a massive trencher of food. The earl gave a speech, short and nearly unheard by the salivating masses who merely waited for the opportunity to indulge.

  And once they were eating, the only sound to be heard was that of the musicians. Though Anice was no longer starving, her hands still shook as she brought the flavorful food to her lips. She drank deep from her wine and asked for another helping from the servant with the flagon, and then another still. All too soon, she discovered herself full and her spirits uplifted with the cheerful music. Most important of all though was the company of her family nearby, happy and safe.

  “Are ye still hungry?” James indicated her empty plate.

  Anice hesitated to answer. While her tongue craved the taste of more, she was far too full. James lifted the silver tongs left behind by the servant and raised his brows in silent question. As though he meant to serve her.

  She put her hand to her stomach and shook her head. “I fear I’ve already eaten too much.”

  “So then I should wait to ask ye to dance with me?” He grinned. “Or should I simply walk over to the musicians and wait for ye to follow me?”

  She stilled at his words and immediately drank a sip of wine to cover the reaction. Had his question been intentionally specific?

  “Ye have been following me, haven’t ye?” he asked, this time undeniably blunt.

  Mayhap she ought to be indignant, but he’d said it with such a pleasant tone, and the wine had left her relaxed and joyful. “Whatever do you mean?” She widened her eyes in feigned ignorance.

  He laughed and lifted his empty goblet for the servant to fill from the flagon. It would appear she was not the only one who had over-imbibed. “Ye dinna have to lie about it, Anice.” He winked at her, as if they shared a secret. “I know.”

  “What is it you think you know?” She sipped her own wine and let the rich liquid sit on her tongue before swallowing.

  He leaned close to her, the cedar scent of him spicy and delicious. He whispered in her ear, his voice so deep and sensual, it elicited delightful chills dancing over her ski
n.

  “I know ye’re spying on me.”

  James settled back in his seat, expecting Anice to protest about his accusation. At the very least, to continue to feign innocence. He had not, however, anticipated the carefree laugh.

  Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed with drink. “Is it so very obvious I’ve been following you?”

  James considered the way she shadowed his every move, appearing at the exact location he happened to visit. He chuckled at her lack of discretion and nodded. “Aye, verra obvious.” He leaned in close once more, enjoying the tease of her delicate jasmine perfume, and lowered his voice. “Are ye spying on me?”

  She laughed again and traced the rim of her goblet with one long, graceful finger. “My father told me to. He said if I did, you’d be sure to—” She tucked her lips together, as if physically stopping herself from saying more.

  “I’d be sure to what?” James lifted his cup to his lips and drank with enjoyment of the finest wine he’d ever consumed in his life. His blood hummed with inhibition, and he was completely at ease, happy to be in the company of this incredibly beautiful woman.

  She matched his posture and leaned closer; her blue eyes slanted with a coyness that made his groin tighten. “Do you not like me going everywhere you do?” she whispered in a breathy voice.

  How she lured him, beckoned him with the sly glance, and the slow arcing of her finger over her goblet’s rim. He wanted that finger to trace as delicately down the length of his body, teasing him into arousal, their bodies naked, their hearts racing. He swallowed, unable to reply.

  Her gaze shifted away, to her sisters who danced together near the musicians, leaping and clapping in their revelry. A wistful smile touched her lips.

  “What if I told ye I do like it?” He was flirting, and he didn’t give a bloody damn. Wine and lust ran hot in his veins and left him bold.

  “Do ye want to dance?” he asked. In truth, he hadn’t danced much in his life, but it looked to be easy enough.

  “Aye, I do.” Anice pursed her lips. “But you are forewarned that I do not dance as well as Ella.”

  He looked toward the cleared space where her sisters danced. Discerning which sister was Ella was impossible from his vantage point. Leila’s dark head made her easy to identify, but the other two young women wore their blonde hair in braids twisted around their heads, and white gowns. He certainly couldn’t identify one dancing better than the other.

  “I dinna dance as well as her either,” he offered.

  Anice grinned up at him. “I promise not to be disappointed.”

  Together, they rose. Piquette remained under the table, happily gnawing on a large bone. Much as James liked the large dog, he certainly didn’t need him underfoot while dancing. It would be hard enough as it was with his limited skill.

  In fact, it was impossible. He didn’t know any of the proper movements and continued to trip over himself for the better part of the first song. At least until Anice took his large, clumsy hand in her small one and carefully guided him through the steps. Her dress glittered like the night sky as they moved, and several times she put his hands to her narrow waist.

  Whatever part of the dance that bit was, he liked it best. He wanted to remain thus, with his palms secure against the silky fabric, sensing the heat of her body.

  But she pulled his touch away with a smile and spun around. “Do you see?” she asked with flushed joy. “It’s just like fighting. You learn the motions and you repeat them.”

  Aye. Like fighting. That he knew. And then it all suddenly made sense. Instead of a parry, it was a leap. Instead of a jab, it was a step.

  By the fifth song, he was dancing, truly dancing, like a bloody courtier. And he was having a jolly time of it. The night passed quickly with laughter and more wine until the music ceased.

  “I believe the feast is over.” He spun Anice one final time. The hour could not be as late as it was, not when he still had so much unspent energy.

  “It would certainly appear as much.” She came to a stop and gazed up at him. Her face glowed with happiness and her eyes were locked on his.

  God, how he wanted this woman. To draw her against him, to let his hands skim over that lovely gown and taste those lips smiling so radiantly.

  “Will you walk me to my room?” Anice asked. “Piquette seems to have abandoned me.”

  Indeed, the large dog was no longer under the table with his large bone.

  “As ye’ve been deprived of yer escort, I think I ought to ensure ye are seen safely to yer room.” He offered his arm to her.

  “How chivalrous.” She slid her hand into the crook of his arm. “After all there could be marauders or reivers.”

  He led her from the room as sleepy servants cleared away the final cups remaining on the trestles. “Aye, they are the worst sort of people. Without exception.”

  Anice shifted closer to him. “I disagree.”

  “Oh?”

  Her delicate fingers stroked over the fabric of his sleeve, a movement both enticing and overtly sexual. “I suspect there might be an exception.”

  James swallowed. “And who might that be?”

  She shrugged with seeming nonchalance. “Someone of your acquaintance.”

  “My da?”

  She gave a soft, purring chuckle and nestled closer to him. “Nay, but did you see how he and Isla danced?”

  He couldn’t have avoided the pair if he’d wanted to. His da’s hands had been quite free as they roamed over the ancient woman during one particular song. They’d broken apart afterwards and blessedly gone their separate ways.

  James groaned aloud and Anice giggled at his reaction. He liked this side of her: relaxed and sensual.

  All too soon, they reached the door to her room. He stopped and released her arm to offer a bow. “My lady is safely delivered to her chambers.”

  She turned to face him, her eyes bright with blatant flirtation. God’s teeth, but she was an alluring woman. Even if she knew it, he couldn’t deny how very attracted he was to her. Her bonny face with long-lashed blue eyes and full lips; her body with firm breasts, slender frame, and her long, graceful limbs.

  “How could I possibly thank you for such bravery?” She tilted her face up toward him.

  Unbidden, his hand moved to caress her cheek. His fingertips met impossibly soft skin, smoother and more luxurious than he’d imagined. She drew in a breath and closed her eyes, leaning into his touch.

  He tilted her chin with the pad of his pinky and lowered his mouth to hers, claiming the woman who would be his wife with a searing kiss.

  10

  James couldn’t still the roaring in his veins as his mouth nudged Anice’s, especially not when she gave a little whimper of desire. She swayed closer, the embodiment of temptation.

  And God help him, he could not resist.

  She rested her palms against his chest and rose on her toes to deepen their kiss, as eager as he. He swept his tongue against the silky warmth of hers and was rewarded with a gasp.

  He shifted his hand to cradle the back of her head and slanted his mouth over hers. Her hot tongue stroked at his, clumsy with an innocence that surprised and delighted him. The headiness from drink mingled with the fire racing in his body and left him overwhelmed by lust.

  His free hand glided down her side, over the swell of her breast. She gave a breathy moan and pushed into his hand. Encouraged by the sound, he let his fingers sweep over the hard bud of her nipple.

  Her head fell back slightly, breaking away for only a moment before she slid her hands up to the back of his neck and resumed the kiss hungrily. She leaned closer to him, so their bodies were flush, and the hardness of his cock strained against her stomach.

  She arched like a cat into his touch, pushing into him as though she wanted more. Without thinking, he cupped her bottom in his hands and pushed his pelvis to hers with his erection pressed between them.

  He ought to stop. For her innocence, for his own foolish heart,
for the lesson he’d learned previously about an attractive woman who reveled in lust.

  Try though he might, the fullness of her mouth on his, and her firm rump in his hands, chased away all argument.

  He drew up one side of her skirt and ran his hands over the smooth skin of her outer thigh. Her breath caught and her naked leg curled around him. His hand cupped the top of her leg, holding her in place, while his fingers carefully teased toward her center. His fingertips brushed over the sweet place between her legs. She gasped and her standing leg nearly gave way. He carefully eased her backward so the wall behind her supported her, as well as his body pressing her against it.

  He slid his hand over her arse and this time traced her slit with his finger. Her head dropped to his chest and she gave a breathy sigh. James clenched his teeth and tried to ignore the growing tightness of his bollocks. Only a few kisses and Anice was slick with ready wetness.

  She arched her hips to grind herself more firmly against his hand. He wanted to find the nub of her pleasure and roll it gently with his thumb; he wanted to slide a finger into her sheath, one at first and then two, stretching her for him. His cock ached with all he wanted to do.

  What he might do if he let himself be too overwhelmed by his own lust.

  A warning blared in his mind, a reminder anyone might see them where they were, a reminder of her innocence. “We shouldna do this out here,” James said between kisses.

  Anice gave a hum of acknowledgement but did not still her kisses. Her hand at the back of his neck trailed away for her own brazen exploration. His chest, down lower to his stomach, down— God’s teeth. Her hand grazed over the tip of his swollen prick.

  With a growl, he shoved open her door, pulled her through while she remained attached to him, closed it and pushed her against it. Desire pounded through his body and his kisses came with abandon as his hand found the heat of her mound beneath her skirts.