Malcolm stalked toward the keep. “We must sleep, so that we may rise before dawn and be on our way.”
“’Tis not that you have a liking for the lass, is it?” Angus persisted.
Dougald laughed. “He tells us one thing, but his actions say another.”
A servant opened the door for them, and a page handed Malcolm a missive. “’Tis from His Grace, milord.” He handed him another sealed letter.
“And this is from?”
“A knight I didn’t recognize, beg forgiveness, milord. When he heard I had a message from the king for you, he asked if I would deliver this as well.”
Malcolm shoved the other in his purse, then opened the vellum from Henry. Reading the missive to himself, he felt his brothers’ breaths on his neck while they read over his shoulders.
Your Grace, Lady Anice’s treasurer has been found dead in the River Arun, his head severed from his body. We have found no signs of the other men.
The news couldn’t have come at a worse time. Malcolm reread the missive, hoping it would give him some clue as to what had happened.
Dougald rested his hand on his shoulder. “This is not good news, Malcolm. I worried there was foul play, but this appears to prove it so.”
“Aye, mayhap this is why the king requested us to do the job. As Highland warriors we will be able to handle more than just the administrative details of the castle.”
“And the lady?” Angus asked, his voice worried.
Malcolm slapped his shoulder. “We will be like her kinsman, watching out for her should anyone attempt her harm.”
He glanced in the direction of her chamber and saw her standing outside her door, staring at him. Whatever was she doing, barefooted, her golden red hair hanging to her knees as if she’d just fallen out of bed? His eyes shifted to the green robe she wore, and he imagined only a sheer shift beneath this, which would barely conceal her bountiful treasures. What was she doing standing there, looking like a woodland nymph in search of a man to bed her, asking for trouble?
Glancing down at the vellum he gripped tightly in his fist, he cleared his throat. Had she heard their words concerning the new crisis at hand?
Her green eyes were round as her gaze took in the message, then returned to his. He had not wished to concern her before she retired to bed. Plenty of rest is what she required. On the morrow would be soon enough to tell her the news.
She stalked toward him, concern etched in the wrinkle of her brow, her eyes now narrowed.
So much for telling her on the morrow.
Chapter Four
Anice’s heart pounded in her throat as the new premonition of ill tidings had forewarned her of further trouble at Brecken Castle. What news had Malcolm received that prompted his and his brothers’ comments? That foul play was involved? That men who had served in battle were considered necessary to fill her staff positions to protect her if need be?
The look on Malcolm’s face indicated he’d had no intention of telling her what they had learned. Her head pounded with fury that he thought he could withhold information concerning her business. If it had to do with her land, her people, she had every right to know.
She warned herself that no matter the news she learned, she must not wilt again or everyone would think she had no fortitude. Which just was not so! ‘Twas a shock to hear the news about her missing staff. Anyone in her situation would have been as upset.
Intent on getting the worry over, she stalked toward Malcolm. Gritting her teeth, she fought the quiver in her jaw. The men on her staff had been her uncle’s favorites, and they had treated her well when he had died. She had no wish to hear ill news about any of them.
“Milady,” Malcolm said, bowing low.
His voice was soothing and concerned. Did he worry she’d collapse in front of him as before? She would not this time. Never before had she done anything so ridiculous. This time she could handle the news because whatever word he had would not be such a surprise.
“Mayhap you should return to your chambers and rest for tomorrow’s journey.”
Instantly angered, she snapped, “What news have you from my castle?” She hadn’t meant for her question to be so sharp, but her new steward would not coddle her. If she were to retire now without knowing what had transpired, she would fret the rest of the eve away, imagining the worst sort of things. Better to get the matter cleared up straight away.
“Milady,” he tried again, “disconcerting news arrived from your castle. You are right, but I think it best if you return to your chamber and—”
She snatched the missive away from him and hastily read through the message until she got to the point of the matter. “Laird Thompson...murdered,” she said under her breath. Her knees grew weak, and she grabbed for Malcolm’s arm, cursing herself silently before the hall grew dark and the men’s frantic voices faded away.
* * *
When her mind cleared, Anice stared up at the blue linen canopy cloaking the bed. The fragrance of lavender, tansy, and lady’s bedstraw stirred from the mattress when she tried to rise. Mai grabbed her arm and lay her back down. “Rest, milady.”
Malcolm stood nearby, his face grave.
“Do not look at me like that, Laird MacNeill. I am no’ a wilting flower.”
A corner of his mouth tugged up and his eyes sparkled with mirth.
She looked away from him, annoyed. Being a Highlander, she was sturdy, rugged. Not like the English ladies who swooned at the sight of their king. Mayhap it was the strain of being at Arundel. She would not react so badly were she at her own castle.
She swallowed hard. Who would do such a terrible thing to her treasurer? “We will investigate this matter fully upon our return.”
“Aye, Lady Anice.”
With a softened stance, she faced Malcolm. “I am sorry, Laird MacNeill. I...well, I...” She turned away from him as tears threatened to spill. Not wanting him to see she was so easily overcome with emotions, she motioned for him to leave, her throat constricting too quickly for her to choke out the words.
Mai patted her hand while Malcolm’s footsteps padded out of the room.
“Is she all right?” Angus asked from the hallway.
“Aye, she is a sturdy lass,” Malcolm said, which pleased her no end.
She did not feel like a sturdy lass though. Had Malcolm said the words to make her feel better? No matter. She appreciated them just the same.
“Mayhap we should stay here, milady, until the brigand or brigands are caught.” Mai brushed Anice’s hair out with long, sweeping strokes.
Anice gave her an irritated look. How could Mai say that when the king proved to be such a problem?
Mai said, “I know what you are thinking, milady, but there are worse dangers than him.”
“I am not afraid of going home.”
“Aye.” Mai cleared her throat. “You should not have kissed Laird MacNeill, milady.”
“You have said so already several times. Did you know you are repeating yourself overmuch lately? If I did not know better I would say you are getting old.”
Mai chuckled. “You may think to replace me with a younger lady.”
“Nay. Sometimes I need be reminded of things.”
Mai cocked a brow. “Aye, like you should not have kissed the Highlander.”
“No’ that thing.”
Mai shook her head. “He is your steward, milady. It would not bode well if ye were kissing him in the gardens back home. The king has other marital plans for you. They do not include marrying a stubborn Scotsman.”
“Think you I would be better off with a Norman laird, Mai? Your husband was Scottish.”
“Aye, that is why anything else would be better, milady.”
Anice laughed, knowing Mai was teasing. “Your husband was a good man.”
“Aye, especially good with bairn.” Mai seemed to be saddened by the memory, having lost her own two children to sickness early on and then her husband on the Crusade.
Anice reach
ed over and took hold of Mai’s hand and squeezed. “Mayhap we need to find you a husband.”
Mai laughed until tears came to her eyes.
“I jest not. It will be one of my first priorities when we return.” Anice tried to lighten the darkness that surrounded them, not because most of the candles had been snuffed, but for the dangers that lay ahead. Her lady-in-waiting exhibited signs of fear, of wishing to stay at Arundel, when it would not be safe for Anice. She would rather face the dangers at home than hurt her cousin, if the king should want Anice’s favors and she refused once too often.
* * *
Before the light dawned, Anice and her escort prayed in the chapel, then headed for their saddled horses.
Anice had said her goodbyes to her cousin earlier and the queen’s young daughter, Princess Matilda. Anice watched Malcolm take charge and handle everything so smoothly. Wouldn’t he be good for Brecken Castle?
Nay, he wished an Englishwoman for a bride, and when he learned Anice was cursed…she shook her head. If he knew about the problem she’d had with earlier betrothals and her second sight, she’d be doomed.
Two of the king’s staff helped Anice and Mai onto their horses while Malcolm checked over his own mount.
Suddenly, he slapped his bag, and yanked out a piece of vellum as if he’d remembered an important document before they departed. The breeze caught the missive, instantly tugging it from his grasp, and carried it halfway across the bailey. Laird MacNeill dashed after it like a bounding youth after a pirate’s treasure.
The Highlander’s face grew livid as he chased the swirling paper. Both of his brothers stood watching, too far away to be of any service. Then the breeze shifted and the vellum landed in a washerwoman’s barrel of soapy water. Had the woman been closer to the barrel she might have caught the paper, but she was hanging table linens to dry with her back turned.
Red-faced, Malcolm pulled the sopping wet document from the water and gingerly opened it up. His lips moved, but Anice couldn’t decipher the words he mouthed. As unhappy as he looked, she assumed the ink had bled on the paper. But when he surveyed the area, and his gazed lighted on her, his expression was one of disbelief. What now?
With haste, he returned to his brothers’ sides. They both examined the vellum, and each gave her a glance mirroring Malcolm’s earlier look. All three discussed the matter, then Malcolm motioned to Gunnolf, blond-haired and bearded, brilliant blue eyes, looking like one of the earlier Viking warriors who’d landed in Scotland earlier. He was Malcolm’s closest manservant, Anice had learned, and took the vellum from his laird, then attempted to dry it. Certain the message was about her staff at Brecken, Anice assumed the news was not good.
Malcolm did not speak a word to her while he ordered the servants to ready a wagon, gave last minute instructions to his brothers, and spoke with the king’s steward.
Mai grumbled to Anice, “’Tis not a problem for you to ride from your castle to His Grace’s to yours again. My bones are getting stiff in my old age.”
Glad to take her mind off the missive, Anice faced her maid. “I promise when we arrive home we will not go anywhere for a verra long time.”
“Aye, or mayhap another baron’s daughter can serve as your lady-in-waiting for travel.”
“’Twas you who insisted on coming with me when first the king summoned me.”
Malcolm’s countenance remained dark like the devil had hold of his thoughts.
“Just for travel mind you,” Mai added, as if she sensed trouble and tried to distract Anice.
“Laird MacNeill has said you may ride in the wagon, if it pleases you.”
Mai frowned at her. “The infirmed and prisoners ride in wagons, milady. I am neither.”
“Aye.” Anice had given up on her stubborn lady-in-waiting years ago.
Malcolm climbed into his saddle, his eyes again shifting to her, brooding, unfathomable. “Are you ready, milady?” he asked, his voice deeper with a hint of distrust.
“Lead the way, milaird.” Anice tried to act unperturbed.
With piercing intensity, Malcolm studied her. Whatever was the matter now?
He bowed his head to her, then motioned to Dougald to lead the way. Angus brought up the rear, while Malcolm rode beside Anice. To give them some privacy, Mai dropped back behind Anice, but walked her horse ahead of the wagon.
“You had another message from the king?” Anice tried not to sound too curious, but she was dying to know what disturbed Malcolm and his brothers so.
“Nay,” he said, his voice clipped.
Now it was her turn to stare at him in disbelief. “The vellum that landed in the wash barrel was not from the king?”
“Nay.” Malcolm’s eyes focused on her veiled hair, then shifted back to her gaze.
She swallowed hard. Who else would have sent the missive? “But it was about me.”
Malcolm looked away. “Aye.”
She didn’t believe him to be the strong silent type. “And?”
“’Tis no’ important.”
“But it is about me,” she insisted. And their reactions made her suspect it was important.
“I was concerned about you, last eve,” Malcolm said.
All right. She would play the game for a while. If Malcolm didn’t tell her what the message said, she’d find a way to sneak a peek at it later. “I appreciate your concern, but you need not have been troubled over me.”
“His Grace would not force the issue, but he worried you would be in danger at Brecken.”
She gave a ladylike snort under her breath.
Malcolm smiled. “I believe he thought you felt you would be in less danger at home than at Arundel.”
“He would think right.”
“I worry though.” He gave her a pointed look.
Malcolm’s thoughts shifted to the blurred missive that he and his brothers had attempted to decipher. Only three words stood out, Anice, cursed, betrothals. He could only guess what it meant, and though he didn’t believe in curses, Dougald and Angus did. Was the lady cursed and that’s why some of her clansman had fallen? But that had nothing to do with betrothals. As far as he knew, the lady had never been betrothed. The manner in which the message had been passed to him by a page from some unnamed knight, furthered his disquiet. Was it a ploy to discredit the lady?
Yet, he’d heard whispered rumors that Lady Anice had strange powers. He’d attributed it to the Englishwomen not liking that she was Scottish. Still, the way she appeared in the hall outside her chamber as if something had warned her they’d received the news about her treasurer, seemed odd.
He rubbed his freshly shaved face. His thoughts switched to the troubles at Brecken. Though he had worried about them all night, he did not wish to discuss this with Anice. However, another issue bothered him. The kiss. Did the lady oft kiss gentlemen? He would put a stop to it. Why, after saying he was not the kind of man she would be interested in, kiss him?
The horse’s hooves clopped on the dirt road, the wagon’s wheels squeaking, but nothing garnered his attention like the woman sitting tall in her green woolen gown, a stray lock of hair fluttering over her cheek. Instantly, he wanted to see her tresses unbound, draping over her shoulders, silky, kissed by the rays of the sun, red and gold combined, tickling her bare breasts.
He leaned away from the pommel of his saddle when his trewes grew taut, nearly strangling him. The journey would be long indeed, if he couldn’t keep his thoughts about the lady’s shapely attributes under control.
Though he was sure she would not appreciate his bringing up the kiss, he had to ensure she did not avail herself to another gentleman in such a manner. Furthermore, he had to know why she had kissed him.
“About last eve--”
“Aye, I am sorry I fainted again. ‘Tis good you have a strong back and broad shoulders if you are going to be my steward.”
He smiled. “’Twas to be expected, milady, considering the ill tidings. Had not you reacted as you did, I would have found your
actions disturbing.”
She turned her head slightly as if conceding a point. “Aye, as if I were in on the plot.”
“I worry about your safety. One of my brothers or me will accompany you at all times.”
Her eyes grew round as she faced him. “Except in my bedchamber.”
Having already visited her chamber at Arundel Castle twice, the thought struck him as amusing. “Unless you have need of my services there, milady.”
She tilted her chin down and gave him a look like she thought his proposal indecent, but she seemed more intrigued than bothered by the notion. “Indeed.”
“As you needed me at Arundel,” he clarified, amused that she’d come to some other conclusion. The idea he’d carry the lady to her bed, then join her certainly had crossed his mind. She was a lovely lass. He would not be half a man if he had not given it a thought. Just seeing her resting in the bed as if she were waiting for her laird husband to attend to her in the manner husbands did their wives.
He shook his head. Traitorous thoughts such as these, he had no business contemplating. He would have an English bride and the lass a Norman laird. ‘Twas better for all concerned.
But her easy manner this morning brought on the treacherous notions. If she still acted the lioness she had last eve, he might be of another mind. Her disposition seemed much improved, and ‘twas difficult not to enjoy the lady’s company. Was it that she had left King Henry behind that pleased her? If so, Malcolm was glad he had rescued the lady.
Her cheeks wore a bit of color from the frosty bite in the air, and her lips were redder than he remembered. He forced his thoughts from enjoying her beauty to consider her much improved demeanor. Mayhap this morning since she seemed a good deal more demure, he could question her about her staff without her being so vague and obstinate.
But first he had to set her straight on kissing other gentlemen.
“Concerning our walk in the gardens last eve, milady, I have a question.”
She didn’t look in his direction, but her cheeks grew more flushed, and her lips curved up. She seemed to know what he wanted to ask and she did not appear to be bothered by it, amused mayhap, but not irritated. ‘Twas a good start.