Helen frowned at her. "Don't act so young, Fiona. If a lass gains a bad reputation, who will have ye? Think, miss, ye'll want to have yer choice when the time comes for marriage."
"I'm nae interested in marriage." Her hands stroked the mare lovingly. "At least nae now and 'tis only riding. It's nae as if I were asking to go riding out under the moon."
Helen frowned. "Nae gentle lass should talk about such things. You just leave the moon riding to the fallen women who dinnae have someone to keep them from that hard path. It might sound exciting, but be very sure, lass, that it's a rocky road to set yer life on."
"Your brother took me riding today. I must say, I understand your fondness for it."
Fiona smiled, all sweet forgiveness now that Anne appeared on her side. "Beware, Sister, Helen will blister yer ears for it. She is all aflutter about babies."
"I will nae. Once yer wed ye can ride all ye like because the womb doesnae toughen once yer sharing yer husband's bed." Helen shook her head. "Listen to ye, young miss. How could ye know everything at sixteen?"
Fiona smiled, as vexing as Cullen often was. "I know that I love to ride."
Anne laughed, unable to help herself. Helen rolled her eyes, but still grinned good naturedly.
"Tell me about your trip. How is your daughter?"
Helen happily clasped her hands together to begin speaking of her family. Anne let the sound of Helen's joy surround her. There was much at Sterling worth loving.
Especially its master.
Brodick looked formidable that night. Anne entered the eating hall and a prickle of worry went down her nape at the hush in the air. Even Cullen, who normally was so carefree, appeared years older. Druce was busy crumbling a round of bread, his jaw working quickly while his thoughts appeared to race.
Brodick nodded to her but continued to brood over a tankard. Cullen broke the heavy silence.
"He's a bastard."
Druce grunted, sounding like he approved, while continuing to chew more bread. Brodick's expression darkened further.
"That is nae the issue at hand. His bloody uncle has the ear of the King. We have to be careful how we answer his charges."
"The bloody raiders burned a dozen homes." Cullen looked ready to draw his sword.
But Brodick tempered his brother's ire with a calculated shake of his head. "I spent five weeks running them back to their nest. No one knows it better than I, but they've gone and complained to the King making it sound like we have been raiding them. Jamie is nae tolerating that from any clan. That's why he sent his men here to make sure it's known far and wide that he's watching."
"'Tis nonsense. The McQuades were on yer land." Druce washed the bread down with a huge swallow of small beer. "I'll ride with ye to court."
Brodick nodded, but his expression was still dark. His gaze touched hers and he winced.
"I'm sorry, lass, but 'tis poor company ye have to sup with tonight."
"For good reason, it sounds like."
His lips twitched, just the slightest amount. One of his hands covered hers. His fingers were warm, sending a tiny ripple of enjoyment up her arm.
"Protecting McJames' land is a fine reason, to be sure. Yet I'm nae looking forward to riding to court."
There was a disturbance at the far end of the eating hall. All three men grunted, hissing under their breath as a party of five men appeared and demanded some of the retainers relinquish their seats to them. Although wearing kilts, these men had doublets on and their tartans were blue and green. Never mind that there were seats aplenty a bit further across the room. The McJames' retainers looked to Brodick for direction, but it was clear they wanted to give the newcomers a taste of their fists.
Brodick jerked his head and the retainers set their expressions. They rose from the benches, moving to empty ones. The newcomers smirked with their victory before assuming their seats and loudly calling for service.
"You have guests." Anne watched them with growing disdain. "Rude ones at that."
Brodick grunted. "Aye. The sort of company I can do without."
Druce cut a hard look towards the men. "We all can. Damned royal hounds. Here to make us dance to Jamie's tune and all because we were defending our own land."
They bellowed again, beating their tankards against the table-top. Not a single maid looked their way.
Anne stood up, disgusted by their behavior. Brodick's hand shot out to clasp her wrist. She gasped because he normally controlled his strength with her and this grip was hard, unrelenting.
"Where are ye going?"
"To show them that no woman of this house is intimidated by their arrogant snobbery. As well as to stop that racket before the children learn ill manners from their poor example." She pulled her arm gently, keeping her eyes steady. "I'll not have them gossiping about Sterling hospitality."
Brodick released her, pride shimmering in his eyes. She lifted her chin, enjoying the praise. Their guests beat the table again. With a determined stride, Anne covered the distance to them. She hooked a full pitcher out of Ginny's hands. The younger woman gasped, but Anne had no time for her.
"You will have to stop beating those tankards against the table if you would like them filled."
Her English accent silenced all five of the men. They wrinkled their noses, one of them muttering something in Gaelic.
Leaning over the table, Anne splashed small beer into one tankard before the man holding it noticed her intentions. He jerked it away from her pitcher, sending a small wave of the dark brown liquid onto his shirt.
A ripple of amusement went down the long tables.
"You should be more careful with a full mug, sir." Her tone was carefully controlled but there was a subtle set down in it.
One of the other men hit the table with his tankard. "How long do I have to wait anyway?"
Anne smiled sweetly at him, years of serving Philipa finally becoming useful.
"Forgive me, I was distracted by your companions' clumsiness."
"Damned English." He peered into his mug frowning. "Likely poisoned."
Dropping the pitcher, Anne snatched the tankard from his hand. She quaffed a healthy measure of it and slammed it onto the table in front of him. The thump of the tankard hitting the table bounced around the hall because it was so silent.
"May I refill your tankard, sir?"
Amusement began to fill the air, Brodick's retainers breaking into loud laughter.
Helen suddenly appeared, the model of good hospitality with a tray of cut cheese and new spring leaves. She placed the tray with a great deal more force than needed.
"I do hope ye remember to tell the King how the mistress herself filled yer tankards with her own hands."
"So ye be the English heiress." The one nearest her ran his eyes down her length, pausing for a moment on the swell of her breasts. "I see yer nae so hard to look at. That's a bonus considering McJames had to fuck you to get yer dowry."
Anne felt Brodick's eyes on her; the hall had gone quiet again. She could feel the tension drawing tighter.
"Helen, please instruct the cook to heat some bathing water. Our guests need to remove the dirt from themselves now that they are indoors again. It is only polite, after all, to not drip filth at the table."
Anne turned her back to find the rows of McJames' retainers eyeing her with respect. They slapped their thighs with one hand, filling the room with noise. She carried herself with dignity through the men and into the kitchen.
"Och now, ye put them in their place right nicely."
Helen laughed, but her eyes fell on Ginny. Anne turned toward the older woman.
"Do not worry, Helen. We all listen to gossip. You should hear some of the things I have been told about Scots women." The maids working on the long table slowed down, tilting their heads toward her to listen. Even Ginny looked less defiant as she waited to hear what Anne had to say.
"Indeed. I understand that Scots women ride naked and pick their teeth with the points of their dirks." She paused for a moment, raising a hand to shake a single finger. "Yet, I always did wonder if that might leave wind burn on their skin as well as thinking, where do they store the dirk when they are naked? And how do they manage to pick their teeth with a sharp dirk while riding and not slice their lips? It seems rather complicated."
The women looked at her, stunned. Helen suddenly laughed, her cheeks turning red.
"Yer a rare one indeed, Mistress," Helen shot Ginny a firm look, "to be able to ken that some things are not as they seem. Hearing it doesnae mean you know enough to judge."
There were several mutters of approval. Even Bythe nodded agreement. She watched from her post near the stoves, keeping a watchful eye on her ovens.
"There's hot water aplenty if yer in the mood for a bath, Mistress."
"Thank you." To refuse would have undone the fragile truce she'd just forged. Helen nodded once more, approving of her. The tension in the kitchen dissipated, giving way to soft banter once more.