“This is Captain Cardmore,” Tess introduced. “And come along, Anice. I’ll introduce you to Serena and then we will get you settled in.”
Anice bobbed another curtsy as she took leave of the three men and the child and heard Angus say, as she walked away with Tess, “She’s blonde haired and blue-eyed,” he guessed, “or I’ll be chewing on this here leather for supper.”
Captain Cardmore answered, “I’m no sure about her hair, but she is definitely blue-eyed. Jesus, are they blue.”
ONE WEEK LATER, ANICE determined she could be very happy at Inesfree. She wasn’t yet, but she could be. She told herself she didn’t long to be back at Stonehaven, with the Kincaid, not one bit. And sometimes she even believed this to be true. But frankly, what she wouldn’t give to see one of the Kincaid’s disarming grins settle upon her one more time. She ached for the beach at Stonehaven and she definitely missed her friends; only Torren had remained with her, as Fibh and the others had returned after only one day at Inesfree.
“How long were you instructed to stay with me, Torren?” She’d asked him just yesterday.
“For as long as you need me,” had been his vague response.
“I will always need you, Torren,” she’d told him, not quite ready yet to have him depart.
But Inesfree, Tess and Serena and Angus, in particular, had made her very welcome, indeed. She’d been given her own chambers, which she’d fussed about until Tess had used her stern voice—as dear Serena had termed it—and insisted that it wasn’t polite to make her host unhappy. And when Tess had asserted that Inesfree was very much her home now, Anice had felt tears of warmth and joy overcome her, to which Serena and Tess had hugged her with laughter.
Serena, as her name suggested, was exactly that: the sweetest, gentlest person Anice was sure she had ever encountered. She was the daughter of the former chief of Inesfree before the MacGregor had taken that role and had only recently married Angus’s son. She was a fair skinned brunette with very pretty blue eyes, and she seemed to always have available a serene smile.
When Anice had removed her wimple that first afternoon, as she and Tess and Serena had stood in her new chamber, both Serena and Tess had gasped at her shorn hair while Anice regarded them with a sheepish shrug and pained smile, looking upon their long and sleek tresses.
“Anice,” Tess had breathed with tremendous sympathy and a question in her sorrowful gaze, being so overcome by the sight that she’d sunk onto the mattress around which they’d hovered. Anice had sat as well, while Serena stood at the end of the bed.
With very little urging she told them about Jardine, how she’d been sent there many years ago, and how they’d cut her hair every few months since she was fourteen.
“Well, I think it makes for a very striking appearance,” Serena had said firmly.
“I agree” Tess added. “Anice, you are absolutely stunning. The short hair highlights your beautiful eyes and lips. Oh, no wonder Gregor—well, never mind.”
“I’ll keep it covered,” Anice offered, fingering the locks self-consciously.
“You will do no such thing!” Tess insisted. “You will not hide who or what you were or are. I will not allow it.”
“Can she do that?” Anice gave a little smirk at Tess’s fierceness on the subject and looked to Serena.
The dark haired woman shrugged. “Not really, but if we try to stop her, she’ll only make eyes at Conall, and then the world is hers.”
They had laughed as such foolishness, though Anice recalled the way the MacGregor had looked at Tess and she thought this not too far off the mark.
“So you were at Jardine for almost seven years, but never took your final vows?” Tess asked delicately.
Anice let her gaze drop away from her host. “I wasn’t very good at it,” seemed to be the easiest way to explain it.
“How did you meet Gregor?” Serena asked.
Anice grimaced. “As I wasn’t very good at it, I did spend a fair amount of time in the stocks—” At their horrified gasps, Anice related the events of the night she met the Kincaid.
“You saved his life,” Serena breathed in awe when Anice had finished the telling, up to the point where the Kincaid army had found her and Gregor near Haddington.
“Actually, he saved mine.”
“But were you not happy at Stonehaven?” Serena persisted, having not read the message from Gregor, and now oblivious to Tess trying to catch her eye to beg her to avoid this subject.
Anice averted her eyes, plucking at strands of the pretty coverlet atop the bed. “The Kincaid is to be married,” was all she said.
Tess reached out and squeezed Anice’s hand comfortingly, ostensibly having come to her own conclusions from that missive, while Serena said, “Oh,” as if she, too, understood now.
“Honor and the peace between clans is no trifling matter,” Tess imparted sagely, apparently aware of Gregor’s betrothal and the reasons that the wedding must happen.
Intent on putting all her truths out straightaway, Anice then informed the two women that she hadn’t any possessions, save for the kirtle she wore and only one extra, supplied by the Kincaid. “And I have only this pair of shoes, such as they are. I fear I come to Inesfree rather as a beggar, Lady Tess. But I’d always had duties at Jardine, and I am well accustomed to working hard, if you only give some direction where I might be most helpful.”
“When I came to Inesfree,” Tess said with a wry smile about her pretty face, “I had only the clothes on my back.” She turned to Serena and smiled with much affection. “This dear one shared love and acceptance and friendship—and her wardrobe—and I am happy to finally be able to visit a similar kindness on someone else.” She patted Anice’s hand again. “That’s what friends do, and we shall be very good friends, shall we not?”
At supper that evening, Anice had debuted her uncovered hair, and the MacGregor and John were kind enough to keep their shock in check, so that Anice only noted a lifting of brows rather interrupted in an effort to be polite.
Today, Anice and Tess and Serena sat around that monstrosity of a tapestry, which Tess had explained with a roll of her eyes, they’d been working on forever, and they discussed the upcoming wedding of the MacGregor and Tess.
“We finally have a use for the pink silk,” Serena happily announced and explained that her husband of less than a month was a tradesman and had once brought them a length of fine pink silk that they’d ogled covetously. They couldn’t imagine what they might do with it, as their daily routine didn’t ever call for so impractical a fabric, until now.
“You didn’t use it for your own wedding?” Anice asked.
Tess answered, with a sly womanly grin, “Her husband brought her an even finer bolt of the most beautiful golden silk. It was so ravishing it brought tears to my eyes just to look upon it. Oh, but it was heavenly.”
Serena allowed, with a telling blush. “It truly was beautiful. Tess helped me make the gown.”
“Do you sew, Anice?” Tess asked. “I would love to have your help designing my wedding gown. And we can make gowns for you as well. Fynn brings us the most wonderful fabrics!”
“I do sew,” Anice told her. “At Jardine, needlework was a regular part of our day.” But she bothered to clarify to them, “I do not sew well, however, and have on many occasions sewn items to my own sleeves and once to the skirt of my habit.”
Serena and Tess giggled at this then Anice asked when the wedding would take place.
“One month from yesterday,” Tess answered, her tone eager. Then casually, she added, “Gregor will come, of course. He and Conall have been friends since they were lads fostering with Sir Hugh Rose.”
While Anice understood there was no malice intended, she made clear her position, lest any here at Inesfree were mistaken that she was in love with Gregor, or, more unlikely, he with her. She reminded her new friends, “He has his own wedding coming soon, I believe,” she said, quite proud of the very indifferent tone she’d managed to empl
oy while she kept her head bent over the threads.
Inside, however, her belly churned. She’d left Stonehaven and had truly and sadly thought that she might never see him again. But now, he might come to Inesfree. Oh, but he might come as a wedded man, might possibly bring his new wife with him. Her indifference faded, and Anice knew that she would want to be anywhere but here, if that be the case.
Chapter 14
Anice continued her training with Torren, to the amusement of Captain Cardmore. The mountain of a man found Torren and Anice in the outer bailey—Inesfree had two separate baileys that each circumvented the entire castle, distinguished by a stone wall taller than any man, though only half the size of the outer fortressed wall—and watched as Torren gave Anice instruction on underhand and overhand movements of her skinny blade.
“Teaching the lass to protect you, Torren?” called John Cardmore from near the gate. His arms were crossed over his massive chest, as if he’d watched for a while. He pushed himself away from the stone wall and strode over to them.
Torren and Anice straightened, Anice pulling her knife out of the pelt-wrapped bag of dirt, which Torren had fashioned for her training. They faced John Cardmore.
“Torren has taught me how to use my knife to protect myself,” Anice informed him.
“Aye, I see. And so you should, lass—protect yerself.” He looked at Torren, “You going to show her how to protect herself when she hasn’t a weapon?”
“Aye, we’ll get to it.”
“But I have my knife,” Anice reminded him.
Captain Cardmore’s hand struck out so quickly, it passed before her eyes as only a blur, and smacked the knife right out of her hand, sent it somersaulting through the air to land more than ten feet away. Anice’s jaw gaped.
“And now you dinna have a knife, lass.”
Torren grinned at John Cardmore while Anice screwed up her face. “I imagine if I am without a weapon against any man, I am doomed.”
“That’s no true, Anice,” Torren advised. He shook his finger at her. “But thinking that might make it so.”
“I ken Torren’ll be getting back to Stonehaven one day soon, lass,” John said. “You keep up with your knife with him now, and I’ll start training you without weapons.”
She nodded. Having learned so much from Torren, she knew better now than to ask how someone so small as she could possibly hope to find the upper hand without any weapon at all.
“Thank you, Sir—”
“It’ll just be John now, or I’ll no teach you anything.”
John Cardmore walked away, with Anice staring after him, wondering how many doorways gave those broad shoulders trouble. She turned to Torren and told him, “You and he are the same person, I think. He’s just much older.”
Torren made a face at her, his brows sinking further down onto his nose. But Anice ignored this given opinion of her own theory, quite sure now that bigger men owned much bigger hearts.
“Torren?”
Torren looked at her again, having fetched the knife John had knocked out of her hand.
“You’re still my favorite.”
HAVING FOUND HIS OWN chambers to give proper discretion and attention to this missive, delivered just now, Gregor ran his finger over the bow and string and arrow of the wax seal before snapping the sloppy circle of wax in half and unfolding the letter.
GREETING TO OUR WORTHY, discreet, and beloved friend, Gregor Kincaid.
The time has come for sincere respite, as discoursed neath the glad yew tree.
Given at where the English could not steady the burn for our intercept, on the 11th day of October, in the year of grace, one thousand three hundred and four.
Farewell, given as before, as well to Graeme Morton.
GREGOR BLEW OUT A BREATH and read between the lines. It was perilous to have used his own seal, but Wallace had to be sure the message was known to have originated from himself. The ‘sincere respite’ referred to his own suggestion that Stonehaven, being so far north, and having the advantage of the sea at its back, might be a good place to winter, a base of sorts from which to recruit more willing and fighting men for the war against England. ‘Where the English could not steady the burn’ told him that Wallace had sent this from Kirkintilloch, as last year they had chased England’s John Segrave from here as he’d carried out reconnaissance before the battle of Roslin.
Gregor read the date again. Three days ago. He would send his reply through Morton, as furtively instructed. He read it one more time before sending the paper and the seal through the flame of a taper.
Quickly, he scribbled off his own missive, pressing the stag head seal onto the folded paper when he was done.
He returned downstairs and called for Alastair, his steward, to see that the message was delivered safely.
“Kincaid!”
Gregor cursed under his breath and turned to find Gilbert Duncan coming toward him. His daughter followed behind, her lips pinched as if she’d spent too much time with his mother by now and was practicing her peevish ways. He braced himself for an unpleasant conversation. While he certainly did not look forward to his own wedding, getting it done would no doubt remove Duncan from his keep.
“Kincaid, you are trying every last nerve that I possess.” The Duncan presented himself so ramrod straight as to add length to himself but still barely met Gregor’s shoulder. His daughter stood and inch or two taller than her father. “I perceive you do naught but trifle with me, rather than actually set a date for your wedding.”
He did not roll his eyes, but he wanted to. “Duncan, I have advised you: speak to my mother, or speak to Alastair. This is not something on which I need to be consulted. I’ve said I’ll be gone middle of the month, plan for some date after that. My steward will make the arrangements.”
“There are invites and preparations to be—”
Gregor cut him off, throwing a hard stare at his betrothed, so she understood as well. “We are at war, sir. This will be no grand feast. It will be the Kincaids and the Duncans, and no more.”
“I suppose,” said Nathara, her chin lifting, “if you choose not to be consulted, then you willna have a say in the plans.”
A cringe crept over his face and he fought to bite down the curl of his lip. Jesu, he’d have to listen to that voice for the rest of his life. He ought to suggest to Wallace he find somewhere further up-sea to camp; he would happily join him. “Do as you please.” He started to turn away.
“And Hugh?” Duncan wondered with a raised brow.
Gregor ripped out an impatient reply. “That has no changed. He waits for the sheriff.”
Duncan’s own lip twisted. “You cannot—”
“I am the chief of Stonehaven!” Gregor roared, and both father and daughter blanched, as he’d leaned forward menacingly with his words. “I can and I will!”
Duncan recovered first. “For that tart with no hair? The one you’ve sent away?”
Gregor allowed a long moment to pass, while he stared down the little man. Through clamped teeth, he seethed, “You Duncans have been warring with us for decades. Without cause recalled, and with no compunction for innocents lost. You kill woman and child, burn fields, and filch livestock. I take her on—” he tossed a finger at Nathara, “—to stop it, because I’ll no waste one more Kincaid life.” He moved in on Gilbert Duncan and that man held his ground though he moved his head back on his neck. “But make no mistake,” Gregor hissed at him, “if you dinna keep to the terms of our contract, I will annihilate you. If you attempt to interfere with the sheriff’s court, I will decimate you. You and every Duncan who breathes.” He turned and walked away from them, throwing over his shoulder, “You’ve been warned.”
“JOHN, I’M SORRY, BUT I cannot kick you there,” Anice insisted to the MacGregor captain.
He gave a hearty chortle and told her. “Well, I will no say I’m sad about that, lass, but I want you to ken it’s an option when you have no weapon.”
Anice looked over to Te
ss, who sat upon the ground in her garden, with Bethany beside her. “Tess, you agree with me?”
Tess shrugged, brushing some dirt and debris off her gloves. “If John gives you weapons, I think you should consider them.”
“Aye, now, that’s enough for today anyhow, lass. Let’s sit and watch Lady Tess labor, always puts me in a mood for a nice nap, her working so hard.” The captain slumped against the cool stone of the keep and Bethany immediately jumped up and dashed over to him and scrambled into his lap.
Anice took Bethany’s spot, pulling weeds alongside Tess, though truth be told, there were few to contend with, as Tess was fairly devoted to this garden.
“Shall you come into the village later, Anice?” Tess asked. “I need to check on Jacob Auldcorn. Metylda is gone to Buncourt for several days but he’ll be needing his dressing changed.”
“I will. I hope what Metylda said isn’t true, that he might lose his leg.”
‘He should no have been alone in that wood. Everyone ken those acres are full of boar,” John said with some exasperation.
Anice defended, “His father was with him, but Jacob panicked and ran when he heard the grunts and squeals.”
“The poor thing,” said Tess, with compassion, “too young to face the possibility of losing his leg. He hasn’t been told that it might indeed come to that. That’s for Metylda to decide when she returns.”
“Should we stop and check on the new tenants, who took over Ranulph’s cottage?” Anice asked. “We could beg some sweetbreads from Eagan to bring along.”
“We might as well,” said Tess, Standing from the garden, stretching her back. “And then we’ll meet with Leslie about the soap and candle stores; I’d like to put up larger batches.”
Anice pointed toward the keep and Tess turned to see what Anice did, John Cardmore asleep against the stone of the building, Bethany wide awake, her tiny fingers weaving many skinny braids in his beard while she reclined in his lap, her feet dangling and swinging over his large arm. Both ladies clamped hands over their mouths to stifle their laughter.
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