In Bed With A Stranger(34)

Her voice was still kind, lacking the chill that Ginny's had adopted. It was most welcome, whatever the reason.

"I would be most happy to assist you. Shall I card for you?" Anne moved  into the room. The wooden cards were sitting near another stool with a  mound of washed raw wool. Each card had thin metal teeth that were used  to straighten out the wool hairs. Only after raw wool had been brushed  back and forth on the cards several times was it ready for spinning.

"I need the bobbin changed and I don't know where Tully set the empty  ones. The room is rather large to go searching it with my hands."

Enys added a smile to her comment, her foot steadily working the pedal.  The foot-long wooden bobbin at the front of the wheel was getting full.

"I should be happy to lend a hand. It has never been my way to be lazy."

Enys nodded her head. "I'm most appreciative. Since losing my sight, I  find my pride suffering when I'm reduced to asking for help finding  things."

Anne searched the room, finding a crate of empty bobbins. "You weren't born blind?"

"Nay, and I think that's more of a torment. Knowing what I miss. My memories are as clear as the daylight used to be."

Enys sighed, a look of longing passing over her face. She tilted her  head when Anne pulled one of the bobbins free and the others clicked  against one another. Her foot stopped and she allowed the wheel to stop  turning.

"I was in the yard and not minding the horses. One kicked out, planting  his hooves in the center of my head. To hear it told, I flew like a bird  across the yard. When I woke up, my sight was gone." She snipped the  new thread with a pair of small shears hanging from a lace tied to her  skirts. With a confident hand she removed the full bobbin, holding it  out toward Anne.

"You appear to use your hearing very effectively for one not born afflicted."

They traded bobbins, Enys quickly attaching the new one to the end of  her thread. The bobbin in her hand held fine work. The spinning was even  and the thread thin, both difficult tasks for someone without sight.

"You do very good work."

Enys beamed. "Thank you. I do enjoy knowing that I'm of use. My mother  despaired when my sight didnae return." She grimaced. "But the man I was  set to marry took my cousin instead."

"Obviously he hasn't seen your skill with the wheel."

Merchants paid well for even, smooth thread. To weave good cloth you  first needed the thread. In London, young girls who showed such skill  were coveted as brides. They needed no dowry, only their skill. It was  quite the modern thing now for some women to marry with the only thing  changing hands between their families the skill they had. The middle  class flourished, too, some families amassing wealth that equaled that  of the nobles.

Taking a seat on the stool, Anne reached for the cards. The room was a  welcoming refuge from the chilly glances in the eating hall. Enys tilted  her head once more when Anne drew the metal teeth past one another. She  seemed unsure what to say as the mistress of the house joined her in  common chores.

"Do not worry; marriage comes along to us all."

"Ye sound as though yers took ye a wee bit by surprise."

Anne sighed, pulling wool with smooth motions of her arms. "Yes, it did."

But she did not lament it. That was rooted deep inside her now. It was  startling to notice just how greatly one week had changed her. The girl  who greeted Philipa each morning was foreign to her now. Enys began  singing again, a sweet tune of springtime. Anne found her foot keeping  time with the melody while her arms worked the cards.         

     



 

In the wilds of Scotland

"Damn raids. I've had a belly full o' them." Brodick cussed under his breath.

"More like yer wife has a full belly with the way ye tumbled her in the stable."

Brodick rounded on his brother. Cullen dropped his jesting when he looked at his brother's face. He kicked at the ground.

"Och now. Why do ye have to go soft for a woman? That's sure to ruin  half my fun," Cullen huffed, propping his hands onto his hips. "What am I  going to do now? I thought ye were only getting married, no losing yer  heart to a lass."

"I'm nae gone soft."

"Aye, ye be." His brother added a Gaelic word under his breath. "Ready  to lay me low for mentioning what ye didnae mind shouting out to half  the garrison last eve. If that is nae soft, I dinnae know what is."

Brodick felt his anger deflate. Cullen had the right of it. He had  raised his voice, happy to ensure that everyone knew what they'd been  about. The true reason for his foul temper was frustration. Looking back  over the burnt-out shells of three homes, he cussed. Druce turned to  look at him, a frown marring his face.

"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.