Was her mother still alive?
That question haunted her. Philipa hated Ivy. After years of hate poisoning Philipa’s soul, she was now black with rot. Having found the courage to force Anne to leave with Brodick, it was very possible the mistress of Warwickshire had turned Ivy Copper out. It might have been done the moment Anne disappeared from sight. She had no way of discovering the truth. At Sterling she was even more cut off from her father.
It was a muddle that even the clear spring weather could not melt away. The sun warmed her face as she hauled water from the river to wash her laundry and still she felt chilled and shaky. Her belly remained queasy, a tight knot that despised all but a few bits of nibbled bread. Even that bland fare often turned her green.
She fell into a routine. Rising with the sun and sleeping as soon as it set. The candles in her chamber had long since burned low. She couldn’t think of a good reason to burn another one since she only had her own needs to see to. It would be a waste of a good resource. A habit she didn’t need to foster in herself. Who knew where she might find herself come next spring and under what circumstances.
Brodick would turn her out when he discovered the ruse. Tears stung her eyes and she wiped them away. Crying was foolish.
Still she could not stop the flood of regret that hit her. He was a fine man who treated his wife kindly, far more tenderly than many. Even with his staff being so cold to her, there was much about her life at Sterling to covet. If it were her home, she would take the staff in hand. But she remained an outcast because she knew that she was not the true mistress of the house.
She was the lord’s leman at best, and even that would end when Brodick became wise to Philipa’s game.
With no fire, she often slept in the surcoat, its sturdy fabric a welcome comfort in the chamber. Once huddled beneath the coverlet, she was quite warm. If only her heart could be thawed by the fabric.
That would surely be too much to hope for.
Home
Brodick didn’t care if Cullen teased him. He was happy to be headed home. It wasn’t the first month he’d spent on the trail. A harsh truth that it wouldn’t be his last either. But tonight, he was following the moon back to Sterling. It set his heart to pounding and his mind to thinking about his sweet wife.
He caught Cullen staring at him.
“No teasing remark, Brother? Are ye sure yer nae feeling fevered?”
His brother didn’t grin. Instead he looked serious and older than his years.
“I’m contemplating the fact that I’m envious of ye.”
Druce reined in beside them. “Did I hear ye right? Was that actually wee Cullen admitting he can see the worth in marrying?”
Cullen glared at their cousin. “I always knew the value of the dowry but I didnae grasp the worth o’ having someone waiting on my return. That’s what I envy. Laugh if ye want, but ye’ve no one praying for yer skin, either.”
Druce frowned. “Maybe, I admit I’m beginning to see the benefits o’ such a thing. Possibly.”
Had she really prayed for him?
Only his mother had ever done that. His face heated just a wee bit as another part of him was far more interested in knowing if she’d dreamed about him. Late at night, when the fire was low and her bed empty. He’d thought about her every night on the trail, his back feeling the rocks more than he had in years.
“Well, I’d be most appreciative if one of ye would catch that daughter of McQuade’s and marry her. That way I’d nae have to chase his raiding clansmen across my land.”
“Bronwyn McQuade?”
Druce and Cullen both scowled as they spoke the name. Cullen shook his head in denial. “Yer harsh, Brother. Bronwyn is a shrew, more sour than Medusa.”
Druce chuckled. “I hear her pretty face is the lure she wiggles in front o’ men before unleashing her hellcat temper.”
“None o’ us have ever even been in the same room with the lass. Could be ’tis nothing more than a fable.”
“And I’ve no plans to change that, man.” Druce looked set in his opinion. “I want a sweet lass waiting for me, nae a battle of epic proportions every night.”
Brodick shrugged. “There were many who warned me against my bride. Told me the English bred weak women with tempers like the insane.” The top of the first tower of Sterling came into sight. “I’m humbly thankful that I’ve been shown otherwise.”
Brodick spurred his horse forward. Cullen and Druce watched him gallop towards his home.
“’Tis more enthusiasm than any man so newly wed should have.” Cullen didn’t sound as confident as he’d like. Envy was still riding him hard.