He was out the door before she knew his intention. Pushing her body after him, she frantically tried to think of a way to dissuade his anger. Yelling at his people would not endear her to them. She refused to be like Philipa receiving false respect while the gossips griped about her in the kitchen.
“My lord, it takes time for acceptance to grow. You must not be cross.”
He stopped on the main floor of the tower, turning to look at her, aghast by her words.
“What? There is no question of acceptance. Yer my wife.” He paused for a moment, trying to regain his composure. His temper looked frayed. “Tis nae that I do not value yer opinion, but this be a matter of yer health, madam. I’ll nae be told to ignore it. I’d be cross if I discovered the young lads in the smithy enduring such. Discovering my wife huddled in a surcoat in her own bed is cause for far more.”
“Yet I have told you that I am not frail and I am English. The surcoat kept me warm, I was not without comforts. Do understand there are a great many years of distrust between our people.”
He stiffened as though fighting to regain his composure and not shout. A muscle on the side of his jaw ticked.
“I’m nae the one to be understanding, and ye, my sweet wife, will nae shelter anyone who’s behaved shamefully while I’m away protecting this castle.”
He captured her hand. This grip was very different from the one he’d used to pull her out of the stable. Her hand was a caged prisoner in his larger one. He tugged her along with him, her feet hurrying to keep pace with his longer strides. At the entrance to the eating hall, his cousin Druce stood watching them approach, a frown on his lips.
“My lord, there are many other matters that are more important.”
Brodick froze, his shoulders stiffening. His head turned to catch his cousin in his sights.
“Hold onto my wife, Cousin. I’ve a few issues to sort out with my staff.”
“Brodick…”
He pressed her into his cousin’s embrace, a hard look on his face. It was the sort of anger that she’d known he would have in him if he was ever crossed. That thing that she feared would be cast unto her when he discovered her true identity.
“Yer too kind, Wife, for yer own good. I’ll nae tolerate such from any member of this house. Nor will I have ye use my name to wheedle me into bending when I have good reason to quarrel.”
“Tolerance is a virtue that brings many rewards.”
Brodick shot a stern look at Druce. “Hold her here. I’ll deal with her when I’ve finished with my staff.”
Brodick didn’t wait for a response as he turned in a tightly contained motion of lean strength. Fury radiated from him as he shouted for Ginny.
Anne stepped after him only to have Druce grip her upper arms. She turned an incredulous look on him, having to look up to see the man.
“Release me, sir.”
“Now dinnae go getting all flustered. Ye heard the man.” The large Scot gave her a stern look but she found that it didn’t impact her in the same manner Brodick’s displeasure did. All Druce stirred in her was temper.
“I said, release me.”
Druce pressed his lips into a tight line. “Nae. Yer to stay right here and dinnae make me sit on ye. I dinnae need to fight with my cousin because he thinks I’ve handled ye roughly.”
Anne growled for the first time in her life. Every bit of self discipline deserted her as she heard a crash from inside the eating hall. She rounded on Druce in a ball of fury.
“I am not going to stand here arguing with you while Brodick sets down what is best for me. I’ll be the judge of what I need.”
It was a bold statement. Druce frowned, clearly thinking her daft.
“The man is yer husband.”
“Very newly so. He does not know my strengths and he never will if I allow him to whip every maid for not lavishing me with comforts. I assure you, I can endure as well as every one of them.”
Anne gave a hard shrug, but Druce stubbornly retained his hold on her arms.
“I am warning you, sir. Release me now.”
“Nae.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
Brodick held onto his control but it was not easy. Ginny offered him a stubborn, defiant look that wasn’t sorry a bit. The maids lined up beside her, clearly supporting her behavior. He’d known to expect it but was still stunned by the open animosity shining on their faces. If his bride were a mean-spirited woman, he might understand. He aimed his first comment to the cook, who was also staring straight at him without reservations.
“I’d never suspect ye to be so hard-hearted. Ye’ve daughters of yer own who’ll be marrying soon.”
Bythe flinched, not because he shouted, but because his voice was so soft. Most of the maids shifted, faltering in their determination to remain unmoved. A few even cast their eyes at the floor.