In Bed With A Stranger(13)

Anne prayed as she had never prayed for it to be so.

In the meantime, she would have to employ every tactic she could imagine to keep the Scot from consummating his union  . She needed time. A twinge of guilt assaulted her but she shrugged it away. The man was an innocent, but she could not treat him fairly. It was the first time she had planned to be unkind to a stranger but she had no choice. She would lead him on a merry chase, avoiding his touch as long as possible, and she prayed that God might grant her the ability to keep the man at arm’s length.

It was by far the strangest prayer she had ever sent to heaven.

Time passed slowly. Anne paced once the books were in order, unable to sit still. She wasn’t used to being idle. Her belly rumbled for hours before Mary appeared with a meal near sunset.

Her half-sister shrugged. “I’m not used to serving so I forgot to bring you something at midday.” Setting the tray down with a clank, she turned and looked at the small alcove. “Mother says you have to sleep here. I’m to fetch you some bedding. It’s so boring waiting for this husband to show himself. Mother says I cannot return to court until you have a baby. I wish he’d hurry up.”

Selfish brat.

Anne waited until Mary was on her way down the stone steps before muttering. To the pampered legitimate daughter of the house she was little more than a strip of fertile land to be planted and harvested.

Still, she’d be wise to hold her tongue. The alcove would be very cold at night with no fire. Anne just hoped that the witless creature remembered to bring her something to keep her warm.

There were no silver domes to keep the food warm. It was poor fare as well. A bowl of porridge, ’twas cold and congealed. The end of a loaf of bread was lying near the bowl, its center stale. Two tarts were sitting among the fare, their richness a stark contrast to the rest of the meal. A tear stung her eye as she recalled sharing one with Brenda just a few hours ago. Wiping her tear aside, she refused to indulge her pity. Life was hard and crying was for children who hadn’t learned that fact yet.

Her belly grumbled and she reached for the porridge. As hungry as she was, the taste was bearable. There was no serving ware with the food, so she dipped her fingers into it. A small pitcher of whey sat next to it. Anne frowned as she drank it. Whey was the weakest part of the morning milk, after the cream had been skimmed off for butter. But at least it helped wash the cold porridge down her throat. There was no ale or cider, nothing else to drink at all.

Steps on the stairway interrupted her meal. Mary huffed as she appeared at the top of the stairs.

“This will have to do. I can’t go hauling pallets from the servants’ quarters without raising suspicions.”

She dropped whatever was in her grasp on the floor and turned around, leaving quickly.

Rather a blessing that you don’t have the care of any of the horses… Anne frowned. And now you’re talking to yourself.

Washing her fingers in some of the whey, she wiped them on the hem of her skirt. She hated soiling the garment but couldn’t think of a better solution. Anne walked toward the heap of cloth on the floor, picked it up and shook it out. Made of thick boiled wool, it was a traveling cloak fashioned with a deep hood to shield the wearer from the weather. The wind blew in the arrow notches, making the alcove as cold as the yard below. Even with the cloak, she would shiver half the night.

At least you have a quilted petticoat…

Turning in a huff, Anne looked at the tarts and bread. Her mouth watered but she resisted the urge to eat them. Who knew when she would have more food. It was best to save some. A half filled belly was easier to endure than an empty one.

The sun set and with it the light faded. Candles were locked in a cupboard near the kitchen. They were handed out carefully, to conserve resources. Standing near an arrow slit, she watched the yard below. Light twinkled in the stable as the last chores were done. The retainers walked the walls, guarding as they always did. She was tempted to sneak down the steps and set her letter into the captain’s hand but it was such a great risk. Philipa did hold the estate tight in her grip. She’d turned more than one person out without a care for their plight. The captain might take the letter to his lady instead of her sire. With the earl at court so often, many at Warwickshire coveted Philipa’s good will.

Despair wrapped around her as she picked up the cloak. Icy fear gripped her heart as she pulled the wool around her body. She was so close to everyone she held dear and yet separated from them. Loneliness sent tears into her eyes despite her efforts to remain strong. With nothing but darkness to keep her company, she didn’t have enough strength to fend off crying. Sinking down against the wall, she pulled her knees closer to her body as the night grew colder. Somehow she slipped off into sleep, her mind full of dreams of the fire burning in Philipa’s room. She tried to get closer to it, straining toward the warmth but couldn’t seem to move, her body shivering so much she was stuck next to the stone wall.