by Mary Wine
Love…
It was their gift.
Everything would be well. Even if Philipa had taken Anne to town with her and Mary, there was nothing amiss. Henry’s wife might harbor meanness toward them but she would not risk the anger of her husband by doing anything that was truly evil.
Anne would return in the summer, and she would hug Bonnie tighter each day until her family was reunited.
That was a mother’s path.
Sterling
Sterling rose up from a hillside. Its towers were great polished round structures, each one six feet wide and three stories high. There were five of them, spaced out in a line. Behind them was a drop-off that protected the back of the castle from invaders. Thick walls connected the towers, the blue and gold standard of the McJames flying from it. The men sent out a cheer as the distant sound of bells drifted with the afternoon breeze. There were two gates set into the stone walls. That was a curiosity, since castles were constructed to withstand sieges. Having two gates meant you needed twice the men to protect the weakest spot.
Villagers began appearing from their homes. They called out to the men, cheerfully welcoming them home. The fields were still only carefully turned plots of earth, but the sun was warm on her face, hinting at springtime. The villagers’ homes dotted the land around the castle, telling her that Sterling was a productive land. In another few weeks there would be work aplenty for everyone as planting began. For now, the villagers emerged from their homes where they spent the winter months working with leather and cloth, producing goods that might be traded or sold.
Brodick headed for the north gate, his men close on his heels. But he did not ride through the huge opening. He turned and caught her in his sight. There was a chuckle from the men in front of her before he kneed his mount. The black beast surged toward her, a magnificent display of power. Brodick fit with the picture, every bit as strong—master and steed were well suited. He pulled the horse to a stop only inches from her, reaching out to grab the reins of her mare. He controlled the nervous sidesteps of her horse, keeping the bridle down until the mare stopped prancing.
A wicked gleam twinkled in his eyes as he released the reins. He stood up in the stirrups and leaned over. A hard hand hooked her around her waist before he pulled her across the space between the horses. She clutched at his hard shoulders, desperate to avoid falling. His men laughed, their voices hearty.
Brodick laughed as well, but his voice was deeper and right next to her ear as he settled her in front of him. His arm clasped her to his body, securing her tightly. Her body became alive with all sorts of tiny impulses. Each breath drew his scent into her head. She’d never noticed that men smelled different or that she might have a preference for one in particular. A little wave of enjoyment went through her as she drew in the warm scent of his male skin.
“What are you doing, my lord?”
He leaned down until she felt his breath against her ear. Gooseflesh spread down her neck and beneath her stays in response.
“Practicing a few of my own traditions. The McJames brings his wife into the castle for the first time.” His fingers spread wide, covering her belly. “Mind you, the situation hasnae always been this…civilized.”
She shivered. The kitchen at Warwickshire had often been alight with tales of Scotsmen and their raids on fellow clans. More than one marriage had come about due to the bride being carried off. A wedding after the bedding was often the case among the Celtic clans.
“I confess that there are some traditions I like more than others, lass. Riding off into the night with you is something I believe I’d enjoy. The negotiations with yer father were dull.”
“But dealing with my father ensured you the dowry you sought.”
The hand on her belly moved, rubbing over her torso. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the brush of his breath on her neck and the skin became abnormally sensitive, anticipating the touch of his lips.
“Ah, but having ye sitting on the front of my horse, pressed against me, is far more stimulating.” His lips grazed her neck and she started as sensation coursed through her. There was a soft chuckle beside her ear before he pressed a second kiss to her sensitive skin.
“It feels like ye agree with me, Wife.”
Brodick didn’t wait for her reply; he wrapped the reins tightly around his knuckles and dug his heels into the belly of his steed. He leaned forward as the powerful horse leapt forward, moving in fluid motion with the animal, his hips thrusting gently forward. The arm clamping her to him ensured that their bodies moved in unison. A blush burned across her face as her body instantly connected the motion with that of being intimate. Brodick would ride her as smoothly as he was riding the horse, his motions steady and strong.
She had never been one to believe completely in the Church’s teachings about keeping women ignorant to keep them from sinning. Since meeting Brodick, her mind was shifting to better understanding of why the Church believed that way. Just knowing that the man intended to take her maidenhead was giving rise to thoughts of lust. In sooth, she had difficulty banishing the heated ideas from her mind. All she seemed to do was linger in thoughts of how his kiss felt or how much she enjoyed the steady thrusting motion of his hips behind her now. Heat spread down her neck and across her body, the skin on her belly begging for contact with the hard hand lying on top of her doublet. The strange sensations didn’t stop there either; they flowed down lower, touching her sex.
She drew in a ragged breath as she felt her clitoris flicker with need. Never once had she felt so interested in entertaining a man.
“Welcome to Sterling, Wife.”
Brodick rode through the gates, keeping her tightly clasped against his body. She felt more like a captive than any sedately negotiated bride. People filled the lower courtyard, their voices raised in a cheer as Brodick galloped toward the steps that led up into one of the stone towers. He pulled the horse to a stop, a cloud of dust rising up around them.
“I bring ye yer new mistress.”
Brodick’s voice was full of command as he dismounted. She was suddenly the center of attention, every set of eyes on her. Unused to the attention, her chin began to lower, but she caught herself and held her head firmly in place.
She was not a coward and would not shame her father by acting as one.
Two hands encircled her waist, pulling her toward the lord of the manor. She reached for his shoulders, letting her hands grip him. The onlookers cheered as Brodick brought her to the ground. His gaze flickered with heat as he held her for a long moment.
“Welcome to my home.” His voice was gruff, and guilt assailed her. She was helping to steal the moment from him with her deception. The man deserved better.
Suspicion clouded his face as he watched her, but the crowd wasn’t in the mood to wait. They jostled Brodick in their quest to get closer to her.
“Later.” There was a warning contained in his voice, one that pierced her heart because although she might not know very much about him, she trusted that he was not a man who would allow anyone to dupe him without retribution. She suddenly dreaded the day he discovered the deception.
He turned around, keeping her hand in his grip. Striding forward, he took her up the stairs and into one of the round towers.
“Sterling is larger than Warwickshire. Mind that ye don’t get lost.” He turned his keen stare towards her. “Or wander off. The neighboring clans are not as welcoming.”
“Listen to you.” A dark-haired girl boldly interrupted Brodick, aiming a finger at his chest. “Ye’ll have her cowering beneath the covers of her bed, thinking Scotland is full of bloodthirsty savages.”
“And that’s what I love about it.” Cullen added his comment as he hooked the girl around the waist to pull her into a hug. She hissed at him, wiggling.
“Stop messing my hair, you oaf.”
Brodick squeezed Anne’s fingers, and returning her attention to his face, she stared at the unguarded expression. It reminded her so ver
y much of her father when he was behind the closed door of her mother’s rooms. There was an enjoyment of the banter that hinted at family intimacy.
“This is my sister, Fiona. She’s vain concerning her hair.”
Fiona tossed her head, settling one hand on her hip. She looked formidable, much more so than any titled lady Anne had ever seen.
“I am only vain if you don’t have standards above those of the stable animals, Brother dearest.”
Brodick frowned, aiming a hard look at his sister. “I take pride in my horses. Best kept animals in Scotland.”
His stern reprimand made Anne laugh, a soft sound escaping her lips before she stilled it. Brodick’s eyes narrowed.
“I don’t need the pair of ye uniting in an effort to annoy me.” His tone was stern but his eyes glittered with amusement.
“But I appreciate it full well. I’ve been the lone woman at this table for far too long.” Fiona offered her a bright smile that drew a groan from Brodick.
“’Tis a fine season for weddings.”
Fiona lost her teasing look. “When pigs smell nice.” She stood up enjoying the way all the men at the long table stopped talking to tug the corners of their bonnets in respect. The ease that the younger woman dealt with so much male attention was admirable. Fiona sent her a smile. “I’m too young to wed. Convince my oaf of a brother for me please?”
Anne couldn’t resist the teasing mood. With a sigh she shook her head. “Better to take yourself to the chapel for I am learning that your brother is as set in his ways as an old man.”
Cullen and Druce laughed. Fiona smiled. “Well that is a fact. I do hope for the best for yer union in spite of it.”
She strode away, her body a tightly leashed bundle of energy. Cullen clicked his tongue.
“You know, that sister of ours is going to drive some poor man insane.”
“She’s already doing it.” Brodick shook his head. “To me.”
Cullen smirked. His brother offered him a deadly look before his midnight eyes returned to Anne. His mood changed instantly, heat entering his gaze as his eyes settled on her lips for a moment.
“It seems we have some traditions to observe, my lady. I wouldnae want to keep you waiting.”
Yet I must keep you waiting…
Anne didn’t like her own thoughts, not a bit, but she held her chin steady. “I am not so old that you need to rush, my lord.”
A soft sound of amusement passed his lips but it wasn’t a cheerful one. He used his hold on her hand to pull her closer, watching her eyes as he did it. He lowered his voice so that it remained between them.
“And I am not so young as to be led about on a merry dance. I went to England to fetch a wife and that is what I intend to have in my bed this night.”
Brodick stood. Half the room did too. Men lifted tankards to down a last measure before leaving with their lord. He lingered for a long moment, almost as though he wanted her to see his power. Even if such was arrogant Anne could not discard how admirable it was.
“I’ll set off to fulfill yer request, madam.”
Anne rose to her feet. Something inside her demanded she meet his show of strength with steel in her spine. “A safe journey to you, my lord.”
With a slow curtsy she quit the room, conscious of how many eyes watched her. Anticipation drew her belly tight but the thing that made her walk fast was the pulsing tempo filling her blood.
It was excitement.
This night…
Anne paced the entire length of the chamber, turned and moved toward the opposite wall. She barely noticed the room, so intent on the coming battle with Brodick. She needed to find a solution, some way to push off his demands yet again.
A small bell attached to the door rang. Looking up, she stared at the tiny silver bell. It looked like something she’d seen in the church, used only to enhance the service. This one was hanging from an iron hook with a string tied to the top. That twine passed through a hold in the door.
Someone on the other side of the door pulled the string which tugged the bell to one side. When they released the tension, the bell swung allowing it to ring. The door opened slowly, a middle-aged woman peeked in.
“Ma’am, I’m Helen.” She pushed the door wide, hesitating as she stared at her.
“Good day.”
Helen nodded before looking over her shoulder. “This way.”
There was a scuff of boots before two lads entered with their arms full of clothing. They muttered greetings as they passed.
“I’ll see to getting yer things in order. I fear that tying them to the saddle has left most of yer skirts crushed. But it’s nothing that cannae be undone.”
“Traveling is always hard on clothing. Even with a trunk.” Anne followed the boys, reaching for a heavy skirt. Giving it a hard shake, she froze when she noticed the gaping looks being sent her way.
Another error. Lady Mary would have never seen to her own garments.
Her temper rose as she thought of her half-sister. She did not care. She could not change who she was, and she was not pampered nor lazy nor was she going to be able to start behaving as such.
“Thank you for bring my things to me.” Giving the skirt another shake, she turned and spread it over a chair. She reached for another item, smiling as she did it. Helen watched her, studying her for a long moment. With an approving nod, the middle-aged woman pointed at the young men.
“What’s the matter with ye? Do you think all English ladies are whining babes that don’t know a thing about running their own homes?”
Helen sent Anne a smile. “The lord sent me to maid ye, at least until ye decide who ye prefer among the staff. The cook has set some water to boil and the lads here will be bringing the bathing tub up for a bath afore the midwife arrives.”
“There’s no need to bring the tub up. I will bathe in the bath room.”
Helen looked stunned. She opened her mouth but shut it before speaking. Anne snapped another skirt to cover the awkward moment. She had to appear confident in her every motion, else no one would believe her.
“The lord told me to have ye bathe in this chamber as befits yer station, ma’am. It just wouldn’t be fitting for ye to join the staff in the bath house.”
“I am not accustomed to taking direction from your lord.” Anne froze for a moment, attempting to calm her temper. Brodick was the master of the house. A fact that she would be wise to remember. Maybe she wasn’t his true wife but there wasn’t anyone to stand between him and her should she raise his anger by being peckish in her words. Even Philipa minded her tongue when her noble husband was sharing the same roof with her.
“I am simply not one to waste time, Helen. Hauling water and tubs is wasteful when I’m very capable of walking myself to the bathing facilities. I’m sure that the staff has plenty of tasks and don’t need me adding one.”
Helen looked surprised, stunned into a moment of silence. She recovered, smiling.
“Now that’s a fine head ye have on those shoulders. Indeed, I’m pleasantly astounded.” Helen turned to address her helpers.
“Go down and tell Bythe to make sure the tub is ready for the mistress. You two can stand at the door to make sure no one interrupts her bath.”
Helen waved them both out the door, command sitting comfortably on her shoulders. She crossed the floor and scanned the piles of clothing.
“Well now, what we need is a clean chemise for ye and maybe that sturdy surcoat ye were wearing. No need to tie ye back up in yer stays if ye’re going to be inspected after yer bath.”
Anne turned around to hide her uncertainty. It wasn’t that she was overly modest, but she was unaccustomed to having her body seen bare.
“Is there a senior midwife at Sterling?”
“Nay. Not one that ye might consider very experienced. The earl and his brother set out for Perth to fetch Agnes. She’s been delivering babes for decades. Her wit is sharp as a pike and her eyes still keen.”
So he was taking
no chance on her disapproving of the midwife. Anne felt the walls closing in on her, Philipa’s trap pressing in, making it harder to breathe.
Helen pulled a chemise free, smiling as she held it up. “This is so lovely. I believe the earl will find it quite fetching on ye. We’ll brush out yer hair, and won’t ye make a pretty bride when we put ye to bed with yer new husband.”
Helen pulled the door open, waiting for Anne to precede her toward the bath. Tension knotted Anne’s belly but she forced her feet to move.
“There now, no need to be so worried. The earl is a fine man. Yer wedding night willnae be anything to work yerself into knots over. By sunrise, ye’ll be lamenting having to leave his bed to see to the day’s chores.”
That was exactly what she did fear. Developing a taste for Brodick’s touch wasn’t wise. She was so tired of being caught in the middle. Her life had always been unfair and today she felt the weight of that more than ever before.
But that changed nothing. Placing a corset back on the bed, Anne turned to follow Helen to another bath that wasn’t meant for her.
The chamber was on the second floor, the stairs set into the rounded wall of the tower. There was a sturdy hand rail, placed on the open side to keep a missed step from turning to disaster. Looking up, she saw a ceiling that was also the floor of the chamber she’d been pacing across. There was another set of stairs that led to a third floor. With five of the large structures, an enemy would find it impossible to approach Sterling without being seen.
Helen led her to the bottom of the stairs. There was more noise here, the sounds of conversation and steps on the hard floor. She was slightly surprised to see carpets. Everything she knew of Scotland said the Celtic people were less advanced than their English neighbors. She had expected rushes to be covering the floor. The wool carpets were a pleasant discovery. Dry rushes turned musty during the long winter months, collecting mud and dirt as they were walked on. There was no way to clean them until spring when you had them completely hauled away and new ones set down.
Carpets could be taken out into the yard and beaten. At Warwickshire, she’d helped with the task and watched a great cloud of dust rising as a crop was applied. The hall smelled far better, without the stink of months of grime.