“They are hiding in the canyons, no doubt.”
“No doubt.” Which meant he and his men were set on a merry chase that might not end soon. But it was a sure wager that they could not return to Sterling. There would be another few homes destroyed by tomorrow if they didn’t chase the guilty down. It was the duty of the lord to protect his people. Every man riding with him served his time in trade for the protection his family received. As the English queen grew nearer to dying, the neighboring clans became bolder. He had to defend his land with hard steel.
He was the McJames.
’Twas his duty and one he shouldered with honor. In spite of his frustration, he mounted his horse to take up the task with renewed faith. The reason was simple; he had a sweet wife who needed the strength of his sword. She was a McJames now and he would not return to her bed until his lands were safe for her and every other McJames soul.
“Let’s run these villains to ground, men!”
A cheer broke the evening chill. His men mounted, determination shining in their eyes. Gaining his own saddle, he led them forward.
Chapter Nine
Sterling
Spring arrived in full glory. Winter lost its grip on the land and with it the people of Sterling became busy. Planting season began. Every set of available hands was pressed into service. The spinning room was empty save for Enys now that there was good weather.
Days turned into weeks without the return of the earl. Anne spent the time working alongside Enys, grateful to escape the rest of the castle. Helen remained in Perth while her daughter was in childbed.
Anne missed her sorely.
Be truthful…you miss Brodick.
There was a wicked streak in her nature, to be sure. It was boldly filling her dreams with heated memories of the nights she’d shared with her lover. She saw his face, heard his voice and even sometimes felt his hands on her body, her slumber shattering as she sat up in bed, burning for fulfillment only to notice that she was alone.
That had to be sinful.
The shadows lengthened as another day ended with no return. Anne drew a deep breath into her lungs to steady her nerves. She had grown to loathe the night. Eating in the hall had become so stressful, she avoided it, scavenging what she could once most of the men had finished their meals. The maids had only grown more cutting in their looks since no one checked their behavior. As mistress she should have.
Yet she lacked the heart to impose her will on them. She was a sham. Maybe they even sensed her guilt. Nobles were set above others by divine will. There was great disagreement just where blue-blooded bastards belonged in that heavenly ordered precedence. Was she beneath even the lowest beggar or above the maids giving her those frozen glares?
She did not know, so she did nothing, slipping away to work in the spinning room on some days. On the others she applied a needle to the clothing Mary had sent along with her. All of it had arrived back in her chamber without the alterations.
The quiet work suited her mood.
But the hours alone only encouraged her mind to think of Brodick. Telling herself to banish such ideas didn’t stop his face from rising as she plied a needle. Loneliness settled around like a dark cloak. After a fortnight, it became comfortable. She spent long hours thinking about her family. Bonnie would be fifteen this summer; plenty old enough for that horrible marriage Philipa had threatened. Anne shuddered, nausea twisting her stomach. Bonnie was a ray of summer sunshine. Thinking about such an ill fate made her want to retch.
The fire had long since gone cold and no one came to rebuild it. Anne left the coals, putting her surcoat on to stay warm. She had never had a fire laid simply for her own pleasure at Warwickshire. Since she was destined to return there, she should not become accustomed to the comforts she would have to leave behind.
She was much more worried about what Brodick would do when he discovered she was not the heiress bride he’d come south to fetch. A lump formed in her throat. Tears stung her eyes and she had to turn her back on the bed.
He would be furious.
Every moment of tenderness they’d shared would be dust once he knew the truth. She dreaded the moment. Yet found no way to avoid it. Unlike Philipa, Anne did not agree that Brodick would not notice the difference between her and Mary. The only thing that was in question was just which of them would be in the room when he unearthed the conspiracy.
The nausea persisted, making the idea of food repulsive. More weeks passed. Many days went by without her speaking to a single soul. It was as if she were a ghost, moving through the castle, yet unseen by the rest of the inhabitants.
Philipa’s insistence that she work as a servant came to be a blessing as the staff of Sterling ignored her. Anne knew her way about everyday work. In sooth, remaining busy was a kindness. At least while she was washing her bed linens and clothing, her mind had something to mull over that was not the possible fate of her family.