In Bed With A Stranger(62)

The pounding of hooves fairly shook the ground. Looking through the opening, she saw the signal fires burning in the valley below the castle. The stream of men heading toward the bright point of light left the castle quiet.

It was an eerie kind of silence. Younger lads, still too slight to handle the broadswords, were left to pick up anything left in the courtyard. Only the archers remained on the walls, their attention turned outwards. A loud cracking sound made her shiver as the gate was closed with the huge wheels used to wind the chains. It slammed shut and men pushed heavy bars through wide iron locks to reinforce the door.

There was nothing to do but wait.

And pray.



Half of the men returned at dawn.

Anne ran with the rest of the inhabitants to search their faces but Brodick was not among them.

“Give a hand with the wounded.”

There was a flurry of action as several men were helped from their horses. The morning sun lit the blood on them. But their mood was jovial. Relief settled over most of the women. Anne didn’t breathe easy just yet. Without Brodick she felt alone. It was a selfish way to think yet she could not dislodge it from her mind. For some unknown reason she felt shunned by those around her, the looks cast her way far more cold than yesterday.

It made no rational sense but persisted as the morning wore on.

She was relieved of her concerns as the men filled the tables to break their fast. Every pair of hands was needed to carry food to them, fill tankards and make sure that they were rewarded for placing themselves in harm’s way.

Ginny stopped when most of the meal had passed away. The younger girl gazed at her suspiciously, clearly considering if she wanted to speak with Anne. She finally stepped closer.

“Helen’s daughter was laboring last eve. She went down to Perth to be with her, so Helen will nae be back until the raiding McQuade have been driven back to their dens.”

“I see.”

Ginny didn’t remain to offer any more information. The girl turned her back abruptly without even a nod of respect. The other maids followed suit, ignoring her with cutting glances.

Emotion thickened in her throat, choking her. After so warm a welcome, it was even harsher to be shunned. Without the lord around, his staff saw no point in treating her with kindness. It was not an uncommon fate for brides that were married off into other countries. The lord might order his people to lower their heads but no man held the power to force any servant to like a foreigner.

For herself, she had no liking for false allegiance. Better to know the true feeling of the household staff than live in ignorance.

Yet it hurts.

Anne left the hall, not knowing where to take herself. Once more she was completely on her own. The despair that had imprisoned her when Philipa unveiled her scheme returned. It felt stronger now that she had escaped it for a time. Much more intense since the tender moments in Brodick’s embrace.

He’ll plant a child in you and return to his Scottish warring ways…

Philipa’s words slashed through the fragile happiness she’d enjoyed at Sterling. She walked past the steps that led to her chamber, their bed a place of torment now. Helen had hidden the true nature of the castle folk with her seniority. Now there was nothing to make them accept her.

She didn’t want dishonesty, anyway. Lifting her chin, she moved away from the tower her chamber was in to explore the next section of hallway. Above her was the wall where the archers were poised. Long fingers of sunlight stretched across the floor every five feet. The shutters were open, allowing the morning breeze to sweep inside.

A soft voice touched her ears. It was a woman singing softly. A doorway led to a large room where a young girl sat at a spinning wheel. Her foot worked the pedal as her fingers pulled on the raw wool in her hands. It was a fluffy ball that she skillfully fed into the twisting action produced by the wheel. A large stack of carded wool sat near her and she reached for some of it, her foot pausing until she had mixed it with the wool in her hands. A spindle was winding the new thread on top of the wheel.

“Who’s there?”

She didn’t look at her. In fact the girl didn’t really look at anything. Her eyes were strangely unfocused.

“I could use a pair of eyes if ye’ve a bit o’time to share.”

The girl was clearly blind but her hands were still clever and skilled at the art of weaving.

“How may I help you?”

The foot on the pedal paused. The smile fading from the girl’s face. Anne felt her shoulders resume carrying their heavy burden. But the girl suddenly brightened back to the cheerful state she’d been in before hearing Anne’s unmistakable English accent.

“Good morrow, Mistress. I be Enys.”