In Bed With A Stranger(8)

She awoke more tired than when she'd fallen asleep. Her eyes burned as  her hands ached from holding the front edges of the cloak tight against  her chest. Her body was stiff from sleeping against the hard floor. Her  toes felt like ice in her boots. Moving hurt. But remaining still did  too.

The first rays of dawn were hitting the arrow slits, filtering in to  where she lay. Standing up, she raised her face into those rays to feel  the heat lick across her chilled cheeks.

"Riders ho!"

Her eyes opened wide as the call filtered up from below. With a rush  toward the arrow slit, Anne searched the courtyard but the gates were  still closed. Beyond the outer wall, a blue and gold banner was waving  in the distance. It was tiny and dancing because the rider was moving  quickly. The captain hurried up the ladder to the top of the walls in  his shirt, clearly fresh from his bed. He used a looking glass to study  the banner for long moments.

"Alcaon retainers. Sound the muster."

The sergeant rang a large bell attached to the stone outer wall. Men  began rolling out of their barracks, buttoning doublets and sheathing  swords as they appeared in the courtyard. The banner was still some  distance away because the castle was built on high ground.

So the moment was here …

May the Lord forgive her enough to allow her to live.



"Hurry up."

Mary was out of breath and didn't even climb to the top step. She  gestured with a frantic hand for Anne to follow her down to Philipa's  chamber. Her stomach knotted as she descended, sure that her soul was  going lower into damnation with each step.

"There you are. I hope the night has improved your attitude." Philipa  was already dressed and looking nervous for a change. "Yes. Good. We are  agreed. Mary, fetch her that French hood with the veil."         

     



 

Mary pulled a brown French hood from a chair. The brim would wrap over  her head and down low enough to cover her ears completely. There was a  long veil hanging from the back that would reach her waist. It was made  of lightest weight wool to keep her neck warm. A second piece of fabric  was sewn to the front of the hood. This was light cotton from India. She  would be able to see through it but not well. Ladies often wore face  veils like it when the snow was flying to protect their makeup. Face  powder smeared when the snowflakes melted against the skin.

Mary pushed it down onto Anne's hair, uncaring how the edges cut into  her cheeks. She flipped the veil into place, shutting out most of the  early morning light.

"Perfect. That shall keep the staff from discovering us." Mary smiled in  triumph as Anne allowed her lips to press into a hard line. Out of  habit she started to lower herself but froze before completing the  respectable movement. Mary frowned, displeasure tightening her face.

A hard thump landed on the door.

"Hide yourself, Mary. Quickly, my lamb."

Mary turned and ran toward the stairs that led to the alcove. Philipa  smiled at her back, rare happiness glittering in her eyes. It vanished  the moment she looked at Anne.

"Best you recall what I have instructed you to do. As soon as you are  with child, tell the Scot you must return to your mother. Even an  uncivilized Scot will not deny you that comfort."

The door thumped again. "Enter."

The captain of the guard appeared, lowering himself before Philipa.

"The Earl of Alcaon awaits you in the courtyard, my lady."

"We are ready." Philipa gripped Anne's arm, her fingers digging into the flesh. "Indeed we are."

Indeed she was not nor would she ever be.



"God's breath."

Anne froze as she got her first look at the men awaiting her. They were  huge. She might not have risked Philipa's wrath to indulge her whims  with a lover but she did know what men looked like, more or less anyhow.

They were much larger than any man she might name, aside from one or two  of the villagers. Their bodies were cut with muscle as well. Her eyes  lingered on their rolled up sleeves and the amount of bare skin on  display. The morning chill didn't seem to bother them; in fact they  looked as though they were in prime health. Several wore kilts, pants  being the oddity. Instead of shirts, they wore some type of undergarment  that had wide sleeves without cuffs. Their doublets were made of  leather and most of them fastened only a few times across their bellies.  Boots laced up their calves to the knees, with antler horn buttons to  twist the strips of leather around. Instead of fashionable livery, every  bit of clothing appeared to be constructed for utility. The exception  were the kilts, made from long lengths of fabric, woven with several  color hues to form plaids. These were blue, yellow and orange plaid. The  only uniformity in dress among them was the corner of those plaids  resting over each man's shoulder. The fabric was held in place by large  metal brooches with pins tucked through them. There didn't appear to be  an unfit man among them, and thick swords were strapped to each and  every back.

"He will come for you … "

Bonnie's words echoed through her mind as one man broke away from the  others. His hair was as dark as midnight and his eyes dark blue. His  shirt sleeves were tied up at the shoulder, displaying how powerful his  arms were. He looked like a Roman statue, all muscle.

"I am Brodick McJames."

Philipa lowered herself, tugging on Anne's wrist to ensure that she followed suit.

"Welcome to Warwickshire, my lord. Please accept our hospitality."  Philipa curtsied lower and more meekly than Anne had ever witnessed. But  the Scot wasn't interested in her show of deference, his gaze looked  past the mistress of the manor to settle on Anne's silent form.

He studied her lowered head, trying to see past the veil. She secretly  prayed that the man would take Philipa's offer and linger a few nights.  That might undo Philipa's foul scheme before it got a start.

"I regret that I dinnae have time to enjoy your kind invitation. I must return to my land."

"I understand." Philipa spoke almost too quickly but she covered up her glee with a loud sniffle. "Truly I do."         

     



 

He looked surprised but shook off the emotion quickly. "Good."

His voice was rich and deep, his tone showing he was no stranger to  commanding. "I give you my word that your daughter will have safe  escort." He climbed the front steps, growing larger with each one. When  he stood even with them, his shoulders were above her nose.

"Thank you, sir."

In all her life Anne had never heard Philipa sound so meek. She turned  her head to stare at the woman, stunned to see such deception being  played out. Philipa's eyebrows rose slightly. "Now, Mary, mind your duty  and greet your lord respectfully." A flicker of temper appeared in her  eyes. Anne knew that look well.

"My lord."

Keeping her voice low, Anne lowered her head, remaining there for a long moment.

"My lady."

He held out his hand, the palm facing up. A quiver went through her as she stared at it.

Eve must have felt the same quiver when she faced the serpent.

Philipa gave her a pinch and she placed her hand into his. With  controlled strength, his fingers engulfed her hand. His large hand  completely capturing her smaller one, he pulled her toward him, his eyes  trying to peer through her veil. The fact that he could not seemed not  to be a reason to linger. He turned, leading her down the steps. One of  his men stood with a mare, holding it firmly as the earl walked her to  it. Grabbing her skirts in order to lift her foot to the stirrup, Anne  gasped when his hands unexpectedly grasped her waist. Her feet quickly  left the ground as he tossed her up onto the back of the mare. His men  sent out a cheer, their voices chuckling in the morning air. The earl  flashed her a grin that transformed his face into that of a boy for a  moment before it faded back to the confidence of a man. He watched her  grip the front of the saddle and adjust her hips so that she was  balanced on the horse side fashion.

"Mount."

He bellowed the command as he swung up on his own mount. The horse was coal black, its eyes flashing.

"I saw him on a black steed … "

Anne lifted her eyes to the man on the horse. He wrapped the reins  around one powerful hand, commanding the horse expertly. His eyes were  focused on her, trying to penetrate her veil as his kilt rose up to show  his legs. They were just as sculpted as his arms as he clasped the  horse between his thighs. Wheeling about, she stared at the sword  strapped to his back. Bonnie's words sent a shaft of apprehension  through her.

"You'll have a baby before next harvest moon."

She mustn't.

There had to be a way to avoid it. The man holding her reins kept them,  mounting his own horse and pulling hers along. She shivered as the  household waved good-bye to her, calling out good wishes. She stared at  the wide backs of the men in front of her, each one powerful. Their  leader radiated strength as he rode back through the gates. Her mare  followed, gaining speed as they cleared the outer wall.