As she struggled a bit, balancing the trencher in her lap, holding the end of the bone in her wrapped hand, and trying to pull at bits and pieces of the meat while not tugging too hard upon her sprained wrist, Gregor shoved a piece of pheasant meat into his mouth and licked his fingers to clean them off. He set his own meal aside and took hers into his lap, pulling the meat away from the bone in little pieces, leaving them strewn about the plate, the clean bones set apart. She sat next to him, her head at the height of his shoulder, and watched his fingers working. He handed the trencher back to her and found his own supper again, lifting pieces of snake into his mouth just as he caught Torren’s gaze upon him. His captain’s eyes were thinned just a bit as if he’d studied Gregor’s kindness to Anice. Torren’s head bobbed up and down very slightly and a grin broke his face while he chewed and as he leveled a probing gaze upon his chief.
ANICE DIDN’T ARGUE when Gregor carefully pulled her into his arms once they were settled down for the night. He’d laid himself down first and when Anice stretched out next to him, his arm was under her and he rolled it around, bringing her into his shoulder. Carefully, she set her wrapped hand upon his chest, lest it be smushed between them.
“Can I tell you something?” She asked, slanting her head up, though this revealed only his chin to her.
“Aye, as long as it’s no that you left something down there at the bottom of the cliff. We’ll no be retrieving it.”
She giggled. “No, but I did lose the kerchief Torren shared with me and I feel bad about that. “
“But you needn’t. Now what would you be telling me?”
“I like your soldiers so much better than I did any of the sisters at Jardine.”
He laughed. “Lass, I found you locked in the stocks at Jardine. Of course you like us better.”
“Well, yes, there is that. But I did have friends there, and sisters that I liked.” She lowered her head again, moving it until she found a comfortable spot on the very firm parts of his shoulder, arm, and chest, and said, “Yet I’ve been with your men for a day and a half now and I promise you, I have not ever felt so... carefree. And accepted. Everyone is just allowed to be themselves. It’s all very intriguing.”
“But lass, you just remember they are still men—beasts, some of them—and you trust no one,” he cautioned, his tone quite serious.
“Not even you?”
“Not even me, lass.”
He sounded grave, as if he only suspected that some great catastrophe was imminent.
“Until you give me reason not to trust you, I will continue to do so.”
She could feel him shake his head, perhaps in disappointment which had not at all the same critical effect as the abbess’s oft-expressed displeasure, but he didn’t again advise her not to trust him. She snuggled closer and felt him settle the furs over her backside. She might be very happy to be on the road forever with the Kincaid and his army.
When Anice awoke the next morning, she felt an excitement overtake her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked forward to the coming day. Carefully, she lifted Gregor’s arm and slid away from him. When no parts of them touched, she crawled away toward the end of the cart, and softly lowered herself onto the ground. The camp was still abed, bodies strewn all about the ground near the fire, and spreading out in some haphazard circle around the dying embers.
“Lass?” The Kincaid called just as she started to step away.
Anice turned. He was still on his back, his arm stretched out upon the furs where she had been. His eyes were yet closed. “Yes?”
“Dinna forget to tie the rope around your waist.”
“Very funny, my lord.” She made to leave again but thought to add, “I will go in the opposite direction, though.”
“Aye, lass, no too far.”
She didn’t even mind that he had treated her like a child. Yesterday’s mishap likely justified this. She walked off, skirting around the lumpy forms of the Kincaid’s soldiers upon the ground and went now ahead of where they camped and off into the woods in the east, the direction given by the barely risen sun straight ahead, shooting shafts of light across the camp and through the trees. She hummed as she saw to her morning needs but kept it low so as to not wake anyone, though she had moved a comfortable distance away. When she was done, she walked further yet towards the sunrise, having noted that the trees seemed to thin out up ahead. Anice was careful to watch where she placed her feet, having no interest in repeating yesterday’s embarrassing incident, but found that once past the trees, a wide open space showed itself to her, being a great wetland with low clung mosses and tall marsh reeds surrounding an oval shaped and very small loch. At the far side, she spied a doe, standing just at the edge of the water, it’s hooves sunk only slightly into the spongy earth. The deer picked its head up as Anice approached and though far enough away that it shouldn’t have been threatened by Anice’s coming, the deer scampered away, bounding gracefully out of sight, into the trees at the far side of the water.
Chapter 7
Gregor waited for Anice to return, still on his back, one arm under his head. He listened to the morning sounds but heard not much more than the ‘jip jip jip’ of a crossbill finch. No one else had stirred yet.
When Anice did not return even after it was past time that she should have, he waited a few minutes more, wondering if she might be about some morning prayers. Then, he sighed and climbed out of the wagon to fetch her, pondering what mischief she might have gotten into now.
He followed the direction she had taken, as had been noted by her not so stealthy entrance into the woods, headed now toward the sunrise himself. He picked up the scent of water and things that were very green and wet and turned slightly in that direction, noting that this copse of trees had no great depth, as he could well see more light ahead of him. Gregor gave some thought to his lack of annoyance at having to track her down but allowed that he’d pretty quickly established that Anice might do many a thing without great forethought; it was just part of her person, it was how she’d been made.
He exited the strand of trees and saw first the attractive lake, made even more striking by the morning sun lending beams of brightness to it, turning the entire surface into an exact image of the landscape on the far side. And then he saw Anice at the water’s edge.
Gregor stopped abruptly and just stared. She had her back to him and was bent at the waist, scooping water onto her face, so that he was presented, from this distance of ten yards or so, a glimpse of only her behind. She straightened, and Gregor nearly forgot to breathe. Anice had pulled loose her habit and chemise so that both pieces hung at her waist, leaving her entire back naked to his gaze. He stared at the bones of her spine, splitting the skin of her back into two definite parts. She bent low again to swish water over her pale arms and her front. She was very lean, as he’d known by the weight of her. The shape of her back intrigued him, narrowing down from her slim shoulders into a very tiny waist and flaring only minimally out to her hips, where her gown held still. She dipped her hands several times into the water and tossed it into her hair, scratching her fingers about her scalp and Gregor was mesmerized by the lines of her naked back as she moved, little muscles visible and then not. He squinted, as something caught his eye, lines crisscrossing that perfect skin of her back. He stepped closer until he could distinguish many white lines across the middle of her back, not puckered but raised and smooth and white, suggesting old scars. Closer yet, his frown increased as he spied a mottling bruise of purple and red, which began under one arm and colored parts of her skin down one side, likely under the habit and across her hip. He knew immediately that the larger mottled bruise no doubt was a result of her fall yesterday, but he would have questions about those old marks upon her.
Just now though, he didn’t want to startle her.
He stopped moving. “You forgot to hum, lass.”
He’d startled her, nonetheless.
Anice gasped, spitting out the water she’d ha
d in her mouth—either rinsing or drinking—and lifted the fabric at her front to cover herself, clutching the pieces at her chest. She jerked around then, facing Gregor, her wet face instantly reddening, her thin arms pressing the garments over her chest, two hands nearly to her chin. But Gregor only saw a new atrocity. Her arm, the one whose sleeve had been torn, was abraded from shoulder to elbow, the skin chafed nearly completely away in one long streak.
He felt his blood boiling over all these things he noticed, until he met her eyes and lost all vehemence. She watched him expectantly, not in fear, not with outrage even as she stood relatively exposed before him, just warily, waiting it seemed, for him to rail at her. As so many others had done over so many years. She raised her chin then and he knew her jaw was clenched by the thin cords that stood out in her neck.
“You didn’t tell me you were so bruised from the fall, lass.” He said evenly, trying to keep censure out of his tone. He sat down close to the water and began to remove his boots as if she weren’t half naked and so close to him. It was then that he noticed her hose and slippers on the ground outside the water. He was half turned away from her, so that she might dress herself, which he knew that she did, hearing her scrambling and hurried movements.
“I didn’t realize it myself,” she said after a moment, “just thought myself stinging and sore.”
“Is the water cold?” he asked.
“Very. But refreshing.” He detected only the smallest hint of unease in her tone.
He stood and turned back to her as she sat now and drew her hose and slippers closer to her. Her habit once again covered so much of her. He removed his tunic and plaid and stepped into the water in only his breeches, where she had stood only a minute ago and did as she had, splashed water on his face and arms and hair and rinsed out his mouth. He’d have stripped completely and dove right in if not for the bandage around his middle. The water was cold, but he took longer than was needed on purpose, to allow her time to don her hose and slippers. When he sensed no more movement behind him, he turned and found the shore again and sat down next to her, using his plaid to dry his face and hair. He rested his arms on his raised knees and waited for his feet to dry, glancing sideways at the torn shoulder of her gown, noticing that the large bruise was mostly concealed by the fabric that held there.
“You have very large feet, my lord.”
“And a good thing, that, or I’d tip over for lack of a proper base.”
She smiled at this.
“You have scars on your back,” he said, keeping a conversational tone.
“We’ve already discussed my difficulties with the vow of obedience,” she said after a long pause. “My scars haven’t the glory of yours,” this, given quite mournfully.
“Your own battles, then,” he allowed.
She only shrugged, staring out over the water.
“I confess, lass, some of these scars have no valiant story. Some of the stories have more to do with too much wine or too much bravado. And this one here,” he said, pointing to a short but thick white line on his forearm, “is courtesy of a lass.”
Anice jerked her gaze from his arm and the scar to his eyes. “A woman cut you?”
“Nae, lass, but her man did when I sniffed too close.”
Anice pulled a face. “Bet you didn’t do that again.”
“No with her, I dinna.”
She looked askance at him again and Gregor dipped his head with his shrug.
“We’ll be at Stonehaven today,” she said then, and he wondered if she, like he, was content to simply sit here alongside the picturesque lake, just the two of them.
“Aye, before supper.”
He still wasn’t quite sure what to do with her, once there. As he’d told her, he had no intention of making her a servant. But she wasn’t exactly part of his family or clan and couldn’t be elevated to the status of a lady of the house, not without causing his own self much trouble from within said household.
“There was a woman, Katherine—I cannot recall her surname—who came regularly to the abbey to work for coin,” she said, using a stick found at her side to draw circles in the dirt on the ground. “She had her own cottage in Haddington. She kept sheep and spun wool and sold chickens to us and took on a host of other tasks to eke out a modest lifestyle.”
Gregor surmised Anice had been thinking as he had, wondering what her position might be once they reached Stonehaven.
“I always envied her, having such freedom, accountable only to herself.”
“A woman cannot own or lease a cottage, lass. She must have been married and was a widow now. Widows can sometimes carry on the lease, or own land.”
“A husband,” she said, chewing on this.
Gregor supposed that was the tidiest answer to the question of what to do with her, to find her a husband. Would be no hardship at all, he guessed, as she likely had already several eager candidates up in the camp.
The idea swirled around in his head. And his brows drew down over his eyes just thinking on it.
He stood and reached down to her, pulling her to her feet by her good hand. When she stood before him, and he continued to hold her hand, he noted that her damp hair was much darker, the streaks of blonde less noticeable now. He lowered his gaze to her eyes, still and always fascinated by the startling color of them. She stared back at him, her head tilted upward, and said softly, “You have very unusual eyes, sir. They are brown and gold and there’s even some green in them.”
Gregor had no immediate response to this. She was standing fairly close, peering up into his eyes, but he’d been staring at her lips, had watched them move as she’d spoken, had observed how soft and flawless they were. And tempting. She’d spoken slowly so that the word gold seemed to have come with its own invitation. He pulled at her hand, which brought her a step closer and felt his heartbeat quicken, well aware of the violent calls within to stop. But he did not. He could not. He lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. Just pressed his mouth against hers, caught her startled and noiseless breath, and withdrew only so much that their lips barely touched. Neither moved for many seconds. She didn’t pull back or turn away, so he pressed on, slanting his head slightly, his lips now firmly upon hers.
Ah, but the lass should have run, he thought. He wrapped his free hand around her and drew her up against him. He took full possession of her mouth, expertly moving his lips against hers before running his tongue along the seam which startled her enough that she opened for him and he pushed his tongue inside, exploring, finding her tongue and circling it. She caught on quickly and answered in kind, twisting her tongue slowly around his. Gregor felt a responsive growl building within him and released her hand to slide his around her nape, holding her to his kiss. Incalculable desire grew and the kiss became frantic and frenzied at his command until the sound of his name being called penetrated. He released her so abruptly, she stumbled before him. His hands had held at her hips and remained now, to support her while he looked beyond her.
“Kincaid!”
It was Fibh, and he would soon exit that cluster of trees and he would see them.
Gregor looked down at Anice, noted first that she appeared thoroughly kissed, her entire face flushed and her lips not pink but red and slightly puffy now, remaining parted as she breathed as heavily as he did. Next, he realized that she stared at him with some air of wonder about her, looking upon his mouth as if to ascertain for certain that something as simple as two lips, previously used only for speech, had just produced so glorious an event as that kiss.
And as quickly as Fibh had shattered the moment, quicker still came the derision aimed solely at himself. Jesu, what in the hell were you thinking? But he knew, he’d been thinking about kissing her for quite some time, had known from the start that he would need to discover if all the sensuality and softness hinted at in those lips could possibly be real.
And now he knew.
Fibh called his name again and burst upon the clearing just as Gregor droppe
d his hands from her hips.
“Oh, there you are, sister,” said the older man, who did not stop to admire the fine sunrise but kept his eyes on Anice as he came next to her, rather ignoring his chief and the fact that the laird and the lass had eyes only for each other, indeed, hadn’t even turned to him at all. “Are you unwell, sister? You look a bit peaked.”
Gregor pulled himself together first, turning his eyes to acknowledge Fibh, that she might do the same. She did, and Gregor moved his eyes back to her. Anice shook her head at Fibh and tried to smile. “I only wished to freshen up,” she said, her voice so sensuously husky Gregor wondered his cock didn’t spring forward in reaction.
The soldier grinned at her. “Aye, well, it’s the last of the bread up there, sister, and they’re wanting to pack up and move out.”
“Thank you,” she said, sounding preoccupied still.
Gregor watched as her fingers lifted and touched her own lips then jerked away as if she’d caught herself. Her eyes found his again and he realized he was now in the unenviable position of deciding upon his next course of action. He had to determine how to handle himself and this situation, after he’d just kissed her and himself senseless, knowing full well that she was someone he absolutely shouldn’t be kissing. Not at all. Not ever again.
Finally, Fibh seemed to sense some awkwardness between them while they continued to stare with such fixation at each other. Fibh’s heavy brows crinkled over dark eyes as he looked from Anice to Gregor and then Anice again, who still stared at Gregor. “Sister?”
“Aye,” she said, even now a vague breathlessness about her.
Gregor nodded almost imperceptibly, and she did the same, seeming to redirect her thoughts. She pasted on a disarming smile and turned to Fibh, which served to promptly make him forget that the air between the pair had been a viable and crackling entity just a second ago.
Gregor sat down and returned his boots to his feet as Fibh led Anice away from the lake and through the trees. When he was done, he sat for a moment with his elbows at his knees, calling himself all kinds of an idiot for what he had just done. They would indeed reach Stonehaven today, and that only made his actions all the more despicable and dishonorable. He let out a sigh and rose to return to camp, upbraiding himself yet more for daring to bring to mind exactly how that kiss had felt, how it had stirred him, while extending little effort to not think upon it.
The Memory of Her Kiss Page 8