Ivy waved her towards her duty, waiting until she heard Bonnie’s steps diminish before allowing her guard to drop and worry lines to appear on her face.
Anne was gone from the castle.
Worry filled her as she began to pace. None of her children had ever left Warwickshire. Perhaps she was foolish to let it unsettle her, for the young often traveled, but she could not stop her mind from turning and twisting. She feared that something was amiss even though her common sense told her that she was only enduring a mother’s grief.
She wished the earl were in residence.
At least that thought brought a measure of calm to her. She always wished that Henry was near. How could she not? She loved him too much. Yet she was not alone in that insanity. Henry adored her and had always treated her well, far better than most lemans. He had never strayed from her side even when her belly was swollen, even now that the years were passing too quickly.
Love…
It was their gift.
Everything would be well. Even if Philipa had taken Anne to town with her and Mary, there was nothing amiss. Henry’s wife might harbor meanness toward them but she would not risk the anger of her husband by doing anything that was truly evil.
Anne would return in the summer, and she would hug Bonnie tighter each day until her family was reunited.
That was a mother’s path.
Sterling
Sterling rose up from a hillside. Its towers were great polished round structures, each one six feet wide and three stories high. There were five of them, spaced out in a line. Behind them was a drop-off that protected the back of the castle from invaders. Thick walls connected the towers, the blue and gold standard of the McJames flying from it. The men sent out a cheer as the distant sound of bells drifted with the afternoon breeze. There were two gates set into the stone walls. That was a curiosity, since castles were constructed to withstand sieges. Having two gates meant you needed twice the men to protect the weakest spot.
Villagers began appearing from their homes. They called out to the men, cheerfully welcoming them home. The fields were still only carefully turned plots of earth, but the sun was warm on her face, hinting at springtime. The villagers’ homes dotted the land around the castle, telling her that Sterling was a productive land. In another few weeks there would be work aplenty for everyone as planting began. For now, the villagers emerged from their homes where they spent the winter months working with leather and cloth, producing goods that might be traded or sold.
Brodick headed for the north gate, his men close on his heels. But he did not ride through the huge opening. He turned and caught her in his sight. There was a chuckle from the men in front of her before he kneed his mount. The black beast surged toward her, a magnificent display of power. Brodick fit with the picture, every bit as strong—master and steed were well suited. He pulled the horse to a stop only inches from her, reaching out to grab the reins of her mare. He controlled the nervous sidesteps of her horse, keeping the bridle down until the mare stopped prancing.
A wicked gleam twinkled in his eyes as he released the reins. He stood up in the stirrups and leaned over. A hard hand hooked her around her waist before he pulled her across the space between the horses. She clutched at his hard shoulders, desperate to avoid falling. His men laughed, their voices hearty.
Brodick laughed as well, but his voice was deeper and right next to her ear as he settled her in front of him. His arm clasped her to his body, securing her tightly. Her body became alive with all sorts of tiny impulses. Each breath drew his scent into her head. She’d never noticed that men smelled different or that she might have a preference for one in particular. A little wave of enjoyment went through her as she drew in the warm scent of his male skin.
“What are you doing, my lord?”
He leaned down until she felt his breath against her ear. Gooseflesh spread down her neck and beneath her stays in response.
“Practicing a few of my own traditions. The McJames brings his wife into the castle for the first time.” His fingers spread wide, covering her belly. “Mind you, the situation hasnae always been this…civilized.”
She shivered. The kitchen at Warwickshire had often been alight with tales of Scotsmen and their raids on fellow clans. More than one marriage had come about due to the bride being carried off. A wedding after the bedding was often the case among the Celtic clans.
“I confess that there are some traditions I like more than others, lass. Riding off into the night with you is something I believe I’d enjoy. The negotiations with yer father were dull.”
“But dealing with my father ensured you the dowry you sought.”
The hand on her belly moved, rubbing over her torso. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the brush of his breath on her neck and the skin became abnormally sensitive, anticipating the touch of his lips.