by Terry Spear
“You have a romantic side, milaird.”
“’Tis you who inspire it.” He leaned closer and ran his hands through her hair. “Before your lady-in-waiting returns did you wish to thank me again?”
“Thank you?”
“Aye, you said you wished to kiss me.”
“But my lady should be here with me.”
He nodded. “You are right. Think naught of what I said. ‘Tis folly.”
He leaned back. As soon as he did, she leaned forward and kissed him, intending only the same as before, a light brush of her mouth against his. Nothing more. Not that she did not want more, but she feared she could not handle it...not the way his eyes had darkened, and his voice had turned deeper and huskier. Was it her hair that had excited him so?
He reached for her face, and before she could pull away, he kissed her, not in the same manner she had kissed him, but with enthusiasm, heat and passion the likes of which she’d never experienced.
She melted to his touch. If she hadn’t already been sitting, her knees would have weakened, and she would have collapsed on the floor. But now she wished his calloused hands to touch her breasts, to lift her bliaut and shift and touch her naked thighs like...
“Milady?” Mai called out. “I fetched ye a pail of fresh water so you may wash.”
Anice tried to pull free from Malcolm to reply to her lady-in-waiting, but he deepened his kiss. Before she realized what he was doing, he slipped his tongue between her lips, the most unbelievable thing anyone had ever done to her and the most wickedly exciting. She touched her tongue to his, cautiously, not sure what she was supposed to do.
He groaned low, and pressed his lips against hers again, as if reassuring her actions suited him fine. He gripped her shoulders like he never wanted to let go. The heat of his fingers burned through the wool of her gown, while moist heat pooled between her legs.
“Milady?” Mai said, more hushed this time.
Malcolm leaned over the railing of the loft. “Shhh, she’s sound asleep.”
Anice poked Malcolm in the rib.
“Aye, she can clean up on the morrow, then.” Mai set the bucket aside, then crossed the floor to the ladder, her gait slow and stiff.
Malcolm kissed Anice again before Mai caught them. His hands dropped lower on her arms, his thumbs brushing against her breasts. She sucked in her breath, wanting him to move his fingers from her arms and take her breasts in his large capable hands. Already the nipples felt tight and tingly, as did the rest of her. How she wished he’d touch every bit of her, as she wanted to touch his naked skin.
“After riding all day, I am no’ sure I can make it up this ladder,” Mai grumbled. The first wrung on the ladder creaked with the slight woman’s weight.
If Anice could have lain all night alone in Malcolm’s arms... What was she thinking? He wished an English bride. She was only a distraction.
But she wanted a Highlander. One just like him. But what about the curse? It didn’t matter about the others, but Malcolm, she would not wish anything horrible to befall him.
Again, he tangled his tongue with hers. The ache between her legs commenced and she pulled away, not wanting Mai to catch them, nor wanting the Highlander to stir her so with a thirst she couldn’t quench.
“Sleep well, Anice,” Malcolm whispered in her ear, then he peered over the railing of the loft. “Are you going to make it, lass?”
“Aye, but you may have to toss me down in the morning, as I am sure I will be too stiff to climb the ladder.”
He reached down and gave her a hand up. In the fading light of the byre, she looked past Malcolm. “Where are your kinfolk, milaird?”
“Taking care of the horses.”
“Should you not have stayed down below while they were gone?”
He reclined in the hay and rested his head on his arms. “I was tired like your mistress.”
Mai glanced at Anice who quickly closed her eyes.
She would give anything to curl up against Malcolm’s broad chest and be warmed by him. Instead, Mai lay down beside her, and several minutes later Malcolm’s brothers joined them. Dougald offered the ladies a couple of more blankets.
After more rustling, everyone lay down to sleep.
Malcolm pondered the sweetness of Anice’s kiss. “I wondered why the lady was not married already.” He hoped Mai would enlighten him.
No one responded, but Malcolm imagined his brothers were dying to know about the cryptic message concerning Anice, a curse, and betrothals.
“His Grace said she is twenty,” he continued.
Again, there was not a word from anyone, though he only expected to hear one of the ladies respond to his question.
“It seems the lady would have been married at a much earlier—”
“She has been betrothed four times, milaird,” Mai said, her voice coated with sleep.
Malcolm swore both his brothers chuckled under their breaths, while he barely breathed to hear the news. Four betrothals?
There was more to the wee lass than he could have imagined. But four betrothals?
Chapter Six
Malcolm stared into the darkness in Anice’s direction. How could the lady have been betrothed four times and never been married?
He ran his hands through his unbound hair. “Norman lairds?”
Mai yawned. “Two Scottish, two Norman.”
He rose up on his elbow. “When was she betrothed to these nobles?”
Mai didn’t reply.
Malcolm lay back, trying to settle the disquiet he felt. And for what reason? He had no intention of marrying her. So why did it bother him something fierce that she’d already had four betrothals?
Worse, if his brothers were still awake, which he assumed they were, did they wonder the same? The lady was cursed when it came to marriage bans?
* * *
Early the next morning, Malcolm and the rest of the party broke their fast, eating coarse brown bread and drinking mead with the farmer, his wife, and six children. Anice paid the farmer for their generosity, though Malcolm had offered. His brothers looked on with surprise. They were now in the lady’s employ. Why would she not pay for their meal?
If he had served a laird, his brother even, he’d think nothing of it. But he hated that Anice paid for his and his brothers’ meals. He’d saved money from fighting in the Crusades. And he’d received ample coin when he departed from his older brother’s employ to carry him through several years without wanting. Still he had no properties and without, he would always work for someone else, instead of being a laird of his own castle. And that’s what he wanted. Not only that, but a wife who would bare his bairn, a son who would carry his title and name.
Anice washed her face, singing all the while. She smiled broadly at him as Mai plaited her mistress’s red gold curls. What would it be like to wake to such a delightful creature every morning? Was she so cheerful because every mile they traversed brought her closer to home?
Would he be making a mistake not seeking her hand, instead of an Englishwoman’s? Anice was a known quantity. A prickly pear at times, but sweet, sure of herself, and totally intriguing at others. Well, kind of a known quantity. He couldn’t help wondering about the curse.
When she nearly danced to the chapel for a quick prayer before departure, his gaze gravitated toward her. He wanted to dance with her and share the delight she exhibited in her springy step. Still, he didn’t think King Henry would want him marrying his wife’s cousin when His Grace already had plans to wed Anice to a Norman laird.
Malcolm straightened his shoulders. If she wished a Highlander laird to be her husband, why shouldn’t she have what her heart desired?
“You had a good sleep, I see, lass.”
Her eyes sparkled in the low morning light, and she stretched her arms above her head. “I have never slept in a loft before. ‘Twas verra agreeable.”
“There was not anything else that helped you to sleep so well?”
Her lips curved up a
s she looked at his. “Mayhap.”
Mai was following far enough behind her mistress, and he said closer to Anice’s ear, “Mayhap a good eve kiss?”
“I have had many.”
He frowned, the notion not boding well with him. “You said you had never kissed a gentleman.” And he knew it to be so, as shy as she had been at first with him.
“Aye.”
“Then which is it? You have, or you have not?”
“I have not, milaird, in the manner in which you are speaking.”
Vixen. But mayhap her meaning was that she did not kiss the noblemen back. Only that they kissed her. Still, the notion struck a chord of envy deep inside him. “Did they kiss you, then?”
“Aye.”
He squashed the irritation he felt. How could she be so delightfully charming and in the next instant, maddening? “Then pray tell explain your meaning as I’m at a loss to understand it.”
“The gentlemen were my father and uncle.”
“Ah. You are a vixen, lass. You would have me believe—”
“You would believe what you will, milaird. I spoke naught but the truth.”
He chuckled. She had. ‘Twas he who had more devious notions about the lass. Yet, he knew she could not have kissed a lover, as innocent as she seemed.
But the betrothals bothered him. As much as he knew it was not his business, and as much as he assumed she would tell him so, he would ask anyway. He opened his mouth to broach the subject, but she stepped into the chapel, and that killed his questions for now.
Had her betrothed all died? Or was she a terror and the bonds hastily rescinded once the men learned of her true disposition?
The more he learned about Anice, the more curious he was. ‘Twas not because she stirred his loins every time she got close, or that he truly wanted her for his wife. ‘Twas just his business to know all about the lady he would work for.
Following services, Mai talked to Anice in private, the older woman seeming to offer advice in a somewhat aggravated fashion.
Anice caught his eye and grinned. Mai’s words to her seemed to not affect her cheerful mood. For that he was glad.
Dougald slapped Malcolm on the shoulder. “I thought we would stop in Northampton.”
“Aye, it would be a good stopping place.”
Dougald motioned for them to walk farther from where the ladies were talking. “If you are as interested in the lady as you appear to be, why not ask the king’s permission to court her?”
“She does not want me...or my type, so she has said.”
Angus joined them, shaking his head. “I have never seen a lass kiss you first who did not want you.”
“For my title, aye.”
Dougald shook his head. “You spar like lovers. You cannot tell me you are not as fascinated with her as she is with you.”
Malcolm smiled. “She is a winsome lass, I cannot deny that. But Henry wants her to marry a Norman laird. I would think he would not agree to my wedding the lady.”
Dougald glanced back at the lady. “You are no’ afraid of asking him, are you? I have never seen you fear anything before.”
“’Tis the four husbands she was to wed before that concerns him,” Angus said.
“Aye, what if she poisoned every one of them, or slew them with her sharp tongue?” Dougald laughed.
“I shall discover all I can before I so rashly ask for the lady’s hand. But it would be up to the king. Still, mayhap the longer we get to know one another, I would find I would want naught to do with her, except serve as her steward.”
“If her lady-in-waiting had not slept between you and the lass last eve, you would not be talking like this.” Dougald raised his brows.
Malcolm grinned. The idea he could have snuggled under the blanket with the lass.
His brothers laughed.
Dougald made a parting comment before they continued their journey. “Do not delay asking the king to court the lady. Once Norman dandies seek her hand—”
“I have already warned her not to show any of them favor.”
Dougald chuckled as Angus’s mouth turned up in a grin.
“Because of the situation, do you not see? Whoever has killed her uncle, if this was the case, wants to take her for his wife. We do not know which laird it is.”
“I see your reasoning. Though I agree with you, I still believe there is an underlying reason concerning the lady you choose not to reckon with,” Dougald said.
There was no arguing with his brothers. If they chose to believe he wished more than being the lady’s steward, so be it. Who was he to spoil their delusions?
Anice approached them, the fragrance of lavender that Mai had mixed with the water Anice washed with, scenting her skin. “Shall we continue our journey?”
Malcolm led her to her horse. “Aye, ‘tis time we depart. Is your lady able to make another day of riding?”
Mai said, “I am ready, milaird. I am not so old that I cannot ride for several more days.”
“Aye, good Scots’ blood.”
“Aye.” Mai smiled at him, seemingly pleased he’d say so.
The morning passed without too much trouble though Mai grumbled a few times when they stopped to rest the horses, and her face pained when she was helped down from her mount.
“You can always ride in the wagon for a while if that would help,” Malcolm coaxed when they watered the horses again.
“I am nay infirmed.”
“Aye.” He couldn’t help but admire the woman. He didn’t know any lady who was as old as she appeared to be who was such a hardy soul.
Anice leaned over, careful not to dip her hem in the fast flowing water, while she washed her face. Her blue gown caressed her rounded arse like he wanted to do. Why wouldn’t she make for a bonnie bride? When she stood and stretched, he couldn’t help but admire her figure, her pert breasts standing at attention, and her slim waist—
Dougald joined him, grinned and winked, then strode across the rocky bank to the edge of the stream. “Milady, you seem to be in high spirits today.” He dipped his hands in the water and splashed it on the back of his neck.
“Aye, that I am. The closer we draw to the Scot’s border, the happier I am.”
“Aye, I know the feeling. I heard tell you were looking for a Highland laird to wed but that Malcolm did not appeal. You said you wished a younger man like Angus, however I wondered how you would feel about a man who is in betwixt the two?”
“Are you offering yourself as a marriage prospect?” Her cheeks flushed slightly. She shifted her attention to Malcolm, who stared dumbfounded at his brother’s actions. Dougald easily won women over, but Malcolm couldn’t believe he would go after Anice.
“The lady has not given any reason for my not appealing to her,” Malcolm butted in. “Are you ready to ride again, milady?”
She smiled at him. “Aye. Mai, are you ready?”
“As ready as I will ever be.”
Angus offered to help Mai onto her horse. She hesitated to accept his proposal when Malcolm lifted Anice onto her own.
“Is anything the matter, lass?” Angus asked Mai.
“Mayhap my horse is weary of my riding him.”
Malcolm tried to hide his amusement.
“Aye,” Angus said, then motioned to the wagon. “I will assist you into the wagon then.”
“Most kind of you, milaird. You are truly chivalrous.”
Malcolm mounted his horse and glanced at Anice. She too was smiling.
The party got on their way again, and this time Malcolm was determined to broach the subject of Anice’s four almost husbands. When he had time to speak to Dougald, he would share his thoughts on his uncalled for behavior. Whatever overcame Dougald to imply he wished to court the lady?
“I thought you had never been betrothed before, milady.” Malcolm hoped she would enlighten him without too much prodding.
“You assume much about me, milaird. I would think your concern important for the English lady you p
ursued, not me.”
He frowned. Why couldn’t the wench tell him what he wanted to know without always making it a contest of wills?
In silence, she stared ahead at the road that crossed over rolling hill upon rolling hill.
“I was just curious.”
“Aye.”
Blast the woman. He was not interested in her as his wife. Why could she not see he was just curious? Mayhap he could ask Mai sometime later. Mayhap not. He wished to know now. Patience had never been one of his virtues.
“Are you ashamed of your betrothals then? I would think you would be proud so many wish your hand in marriage.”
She looked at him, a smile twitching on her lips.
The wench was aggravating him to damnation. She enjoyed making him suffer to know the truth.
“Mayhap ‘tis none of your business.”
He knew sooner or later she’d speak those words. They seemed to be some of her favorite.
“’Tis true, milady, that ‘tis nay concern of mine.” He grew silent and attempted to pretend the beguiling woman didn’t interest him.
“The first I was betrothed to shortly after I was born, milaird.”
He glanced at her, surprised she spoke on the matter without further urging. “Aye, and what happened to this laird?”
She smiled. “He died before I was six.”
He frowned. “Why does this please you, milady?”
“He was sixty-three when the marriage contract was signed betwixt my father and the laird. The Norman laird could not wait long enough to be my husband. He died comfortably in his sleep. I was pleased because I was to be his wife when I turned twelve. He would have been ancient by then, had he lived.”
“And the others?”
She shrugged. “Of little consequence. Why should it matter to you?”
The bone deep compulsion to know was his reason. “You do not have to tell me. However, I wondered why the king was seeking a husband for ye if ye were already betrothed.”
“Aye. I see now your reasoning. The second was another Norman laird. I was betrothed to him when I was eight. But he was killed during the Crusades.”