She was safe.
And Sandy was dead.
* ~ * ~ *
Alexander Struan MacKendimen, God rest his soul, heir to the MacKendimen, was killed during an attack by brigands on his way home to be present for the lying-in of his wife. One arrow did the job, in his back and through his chest. None of his English cohorts saw who shot the arrow or even from which direction it came; they only knew that Sandy lay facedown in the mud when his father arrived to "escort" him home.
They laid him to rest in the family graveyard on the side of a hill two days later. Many remarked on the way that the sun finally broke through and shone brightly on that morning. After the strange snows and thunderstorms, the morn was as it should be on a day in April. 'Twould be a fine spring and even summer ahead of them, according to the old ones who read the signals of nature.
Since his wife would not be able to attend services for several weeks and since the priest arrived just after the storms ended, the decision was made by the laird to bury him as soon as possible. And so they did—with a lack of the usual fanfare one would expect for the heir of a clan.
The priest's other duty in Dunnedin was to christen the new heir to the clan, Craig Alexander MacKendimen. With the bairn's difficult birth and uncertain future, his grandfather insisted on a quick baptism and Father MacIntyre obliged. The good father also agreed to kirk Anice so that if she did not recover, her soul would be ready for death. A busy few days for the only priest in the area, but he left Dunnedin feeling that the living and the dead had been well served by him.
Lady Anice, now widowed, did not leave her childbed for two full weeks, her chambers for another two. Her recovery from the difficult birth was slow and one of the women of the clan helped her to nurse the bairn, for once he decided to survive, he thrived and grew, quickly overtaxing his mother's ability to make enough to keep him satisfied. Now returned from the borders and her sister's lying-in and birthing of twins, Moira made fortifying potions for Anice to aid her in regaining her strength.
Her behavior was exactly what it should be for one who had just lost her husband—once recovered, she even had a mass said for his eternal soul. She attended that mass and carried her bairn with her. No one in the clan who had witnessed her marriage to Sandy those months ago would have been surprised to discover that she prayed a mass of thanksgiving while the priest prayed one for the dead.
Chapter 14
Robert opened the door to the workroom and entered it.
Connor followed close behind as he always did when they were within the keep. Outside, Robert could escape his young assistant, but inside they were rarely separated. Connor took his new position quite seriously and behaved as though on a holy quest. Once seated at the desk, Robert looked over the papers listing the stores of the keep. At least Connor was diligent in his duties, for the list was more organized than he would have ever done himself. The man would make an excellent steward in a short time.
"So, Connor, what other changes have ye to suggest this morn?"
Robert said it facetiously but knew his assistant would have several more ideas about doing things differently than before. Since Robert's strength lay in other areas, he was not offended at all by the man's changes. In fact, there were more than a few he planned to take with him on his return to Dunbarton.
He was glad for the man's help, but part of him did not want to face leaving. Not that he had any choice in whether to stay or go—Struan had announced Connor's appointment as steward-in-training at dinner a few weeks before and the matter was set. Only the timing remained undecided, and that depended on Anice's continued recovery and her ability to take over as chatelaine once more. Mayhap the end of summer and Michaelmas would find him back in Dunbarton.
He could not seek her out, so he contented himself with occasional sightings of her as they both made their way around the keep. He knew that she ventured farther and farther from her chambers as both she and the babe recovered from their ordeal. Although the babe was brought to the great hall with some regularity, even fed by a maid in front of the hearth, Robert had not gotten a close look at the newest addition to the clan. No words had been exchanged about his part in the birth and he was never certain of what explanation Struan had received on his return to Dunnedin. Robert could surely understand a hesitation on Anice's part to disclose his intimate involvement. Not many men participated in the birth of their own bairns, let alone reached inside a woman not their wife to help the babe out.
Their work was interrupted by a knock on the door. Connor opened it and, as if called by his thoughts, there was Anice standing in the hallway. Rising from his seat, he waved her into the room.
"Anice, 'tis good to see ye." He smiled as he pointed to a chair. "Come in, sit with us a bit."
As she sat, he could not help but notice the glow of her skin and the softness now in her form. The pregnancy and childbirth had taken her to death's very door, but motherhood clearly favored her. Her flaming red hair was pulled back and tied but loose wisps of it framed her face. The circles under her eyes when he first met her were gone and she smelled of something elusive, something wonderfully comfortable and appealing.
"Can you still smell it then? I thought I had washed it all out," she said, turning her head to sniff her shoulders and hair. "Bairns tend to spit up at the worst times."
Robert laughed, realizing he'd been a little too obvious in taking in her scent. And he noticed that Connor was well aware of his open appraisal of her.
"I canna smell anything, my... Anice. I mean, if the bairn left his scent on ye, 'tis no' noticeable at all." He still stumbled over her name. "So, are ye returning to yer work then?"
"You are being kind, Robert. A person cannot wear as much of a babe's leavings as I have been and not smell of it."
Her voice was replete with contentment; she was not angry or upset at all about being the target of her son's refuse. And then she laughed and he knew that it was the first time he'd ever heard her do so. The sound of it filled the small room and brought yet another smile to his own face.
"I am not quite ready to take over all my duties yet," she answered. "So, Connor, Struan tells me you will be our new steward then?" she asked, turning her attention to the other man.
"Aye," the man mumbled out.
"And he haes some wonderful new methods of recordkeeping to show ye," Robert added.
"Well, Connor, if Robert will not stay with us, then I am glad to have you in his stead."
Robert's words stuck in his throat. If he would not stay? Struan had given him no other choice and had never even asked him to reconsider after Sandy's death. Seemingly intent on getting rid of him, Struan had even appointed Connor without any counsel from him.
But what good would come from staying? 'Twould be no time at all until his parentage was out in the open. He saw the open speculation on the faces of some of the elders in the clan on those rare occasions when he and Struan stood together. He even caught himself in some of the same expressions as Struan. No, no good would come from his staying.
Robert was drawn back by Connor's stammering answers to Anice's questions. As he watched, an even darker blush crept up the man's already ruddy face as Anice smiled and inquired after Connor's wife and child. He realized as he watched her that this was an Anice he had never seen before—self-assured, confident, and comfortable. And there was no fear haunting her eyes or manner.
"Connor, if you do not mind, could I speak to Robert alone?"
Connor mumbled once more and backed out the door before either he or Anice could say another word. Robert laughed at the soon-to-be steward's discomfort around Anice:
"Do ye always have that effect on men?"
"Actually, Robert, I used to do that to most of the men in the clan." Although her voice was filled with laughter, he sensed a deeper truth. At his frown, she continued, "Oh, aye. The Lady Anice could be quite formidable in her displeasure."
"And did ye enjoy being the formidable Lady Anice?"
&nbs
p; She laughed and rose from her seat. "Oh, aye. I did enjoy having the clan and the servants at my beck and call." She stepped to the door and then faced him once more. "Now I find myself at the beck and call of that wee tyrant upstairs. How things have changed."
He shared a few moments of laughter with her and waited to discover the reason for her visit now. Her glance moved to the wall that separated the workroom from the dais of the great hall and he knew she was remembering, as he was, the night a few short months ago when she found out that Sandy was on his way back to Dunnedin. The joy in her expression dimmed just a bit before she smiled at him.
"Would you walk with me outside, Robert? The day is clear and sunny and I would like a few words with you." Her gaze fell back on the wooden panel and he heard her unspoken words—where no one can hear.
He gathered and secured the parchments on the tabletop for his attention later and then stood. He followed her into the hallway.
"I must check on the bairn first. Can you meet me next to the practice yard?"
Robert nodded, completely baffled but incredibly interested in her purpose. As he watched her walk away, he was once more struck by this new Anice and by the vitality she emanated now. He turned and walked out to the practice yards to wait.
His wait turned into longer than he anticipated; almost a half hour passed before he sighted her coming from the kitchen door into the yards. He'd bided his time by giving some directions to the men training in the yard closest to the path where he stood. Robert joined in the cheering as the two teams of warriors faced one another with swords. He pivoted just as she approached and was surprised to see her carrying the babe in a sling.
"The piglet decided 'twas a better time to eat than sleep," she said, stroking all he could see of the bairn's head within the plaid fabric. "Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Robert."
"I understaun that this is the way of it with bairns, Anice. My suggestion is to get used to it." He leaned closer and tried to see the boy's face.
"Here now, you have not seen him since... his birth, have you, Rob?"
Between the sight of her holding the babe and the familiar shortening of his name, Robert's breath caught. She lifted the babe, Craig, out from his protective cover and held him up before them. A dense thatch of hair a few shades lighter, but red nonetheless, covered the babe's head and his skin carried the same paleness that his mother's did. The little one scrunched up his face and even he, without knowledge or experience of children could tell, was about to cry when Anice gathered him back in her arms to soothe him. A few moments of cooing and soft touches and the bairn was once more staring at the world from his woolen cocoon.
"Would you care to hold him, Robert? He is really quite strong now and he grows bigger every day."
Robert backed up a few steps and held out his hands to wave her off from her intention, but Anice was not paying attention to him. A moment later he found a squirming bundle of babe in his hands. Craig, who had just found comfort in his mother's arms, decided he did not like teetering in Robert's hands and let out a yelp as he sought a more comfortable position. Afraid he would drop the babe on the ground, Robert began to shift his hands beneath the small body, trying to get a better hold of him. He was met by Anice's laughter.
"Nay, Robert. You must support his head and the rest of him, too. Like this," she said as she guided his hands into a better hold.
The bairn did not like it any more than he did and let his mother and all those within the yards know it with his scream. Finally taking pity on both of them, Anice lifted the babe into her arms and placed him on her shoulder, patting his bottom and doing that soft cooing again. She looked around them and walked off in the direction of a patch of shade nearby. He followed, still wondering at her reason for asking him to meet.
Sitting on the ground, she laid the babe down on the plaid she used as a sling. Robert remained standing next to them, watching the men in the yard, though he would rather have been staring at this new Anice.
"They're to marry," Anice said. Robert followed her gaze and saw her maid, Firtha, walking with the eldest of the blacksmith MacInnis brothers. "Ramsey asked her months ago, but she told him she would wait until the babe came." A sigh of frustration and something else escaped her. "Now, they make their plans."
He was puzzled by her reaction. "Is there some problem with them marrying?"
"Oh, nay, Robert. She came with me from my home already widowed. I doubted she ever thought to marry again until Ramsey began wooing her. I wish them both much happiness." Her words may have said it, but there was no warm wish for happiness in them.
"But that is not what you wanted to talk about, is it?" He decided to wait no longer.
"I have not had the opportunity to thank you properly for your help with Craig's birth." She paused and looked up at him. "Not many know the extent of your help, so I did not speak of it within. But I know that you saved my life and my son's that night." Her words now were filled with emotion.
He crouched down closer to them. "I did nothing that anyone would not have done to help."
What could he say? He had thought about that night and his actions over and over since it happened. He truly did only what he knew was needed. He only realized the irony of his actions later. But he believed that even if he'd had word of Sandy's death ahead of time, he could not have done anything differently. Robert knew deep in his heart that he had separated Anice the woman from Anice his brother's wife even before that night. And, although he might have hated his brother for all he had within the clan, Robert did not feel the same about Anice. He would have done anything to save her. In the end, he could only nod at her words of thanks.
"I do not remember much of that night beyond the pain and fear, but Firtha and Ada, before she returned to Dunbarton, both sang your praises." She reached out and laid her hand on his knee. "Thank you, Robert. For being there, when and where most men would never be. And for what you did."
A shock moved through him as he realized this was the first time she had ever touched him of her own accord. The hairs on his thigh tingled as her hand rested there. Other parts of him also reacted to the touch, parts best not involved in thoughts of his sister-by-marriage. He stood and her hand dropped to her lap.
"Ye are most welcome, my... Anice."
Even as he stumbled yet again over her name and title, he thought that maybe it would be best to keep clearly in mind those things in their lives which separated them. She was a lady, the daughter of one earl, the daughter-by-marriage to another, and mother to one who would be as well, when her son inherited the title. He was the bastard half-brother to her dead husband. She would always be the Lady Anice and he would be the outcast.
'Twas better to know his place in all this than to let himself hope once again for more than his father was willing to allow him. But, instead of her recovery and expected return to her duties overseeing the clan cheering him, it made it clear that his departure was nearer at hand than he would like.
"If that is all...?" He saw that his coldness hurt her feelings but it would be easier this way for all concerned. "I will take my leave then. I have many duties to see to before dinner." He nodded at her and turned without hesitation.
A clean break, a quick retreat would be the wisest course. But could he do it? Could he push her away even as his heart and his body wanted to pull her close and hold her forever? The irony was not lost on him this time either, for now that Struan had set things in motion for his departure, he had found reasons to stay.
Anice. His brother's wife.
* ~ * ~ *
She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the rays of the sun that streamed through gaps in the shady canopy of the tree.
The clan's life went on around her as she sat and enjoyed her few moments of rest. The piglet, her son, she thought with a deep sense of fulfillment, slept next to her, blissfully unaware of anything save that his belly was filled. Letting the cool breeze move over her, Anice sat and listened to the activity aroun
d even as she tried to discern when she had insulted Robert.
Only bits and pieces of memory existed in her mind about those nights and days. The words through the panel in the workroom had seeped into her consciousness before she ever really heard them and the next thing she remembered was standing in the great hall challenging Struan. A thick darkness covered her memories from then on, as if she were looking through a heavy fog at the people around her. Struan's voice—or was it Robert's?—promising something... she could not hear the words now but the feelings in those words reassured her. Firtha, Ada, Rachelle, they were there too, caring for her and the babe.
The one occurrence that was clear as the crystal goblets she'd brought with her in her dowry was Robert's face as he turned the babe within her. Although she surely would rather not have been awake during that painful and embarrassing process, she could even now see that same fierce determination on his face that he'd worn when she witnessed his fight with Brodie. But, when directed at her, his efforts were gentled and his touch careful and measured. And successful. She opened her eyes now and glanced down to check the babe who was making sucking sounds even now in his sleep. The wee piglet.
So, how had she insulted Robert when she'd meant to express her undying gratitude for his actions? Was he angered by her delay in speaking to him? Surely, he knew how near to death she had been that night. And how long her travel back from death's door had taken. 'Twas just yesterday that she took over the full nursing of her son. And just three days past since she ventured into the yard and bailey outside the walls of the keep.
She had tried to look for him several times but when she did come down those few times for meals in the great hall, he was elsewhere. Robena the whore's name had been whispered about and she decided she would ask no further about him or his whereabouts. And Struan had warned her that, following his involvement in her son's birth, for her to seek him out or spend more time with him than their duties demanded would be extremely inappropriate, especially considering their different stations in life. And there was the fact that men simply did not take part in the process of birthing a bairn, let alone reaching in there to pull one out. She shivered, the tremors making gooseflesh rise on her arms. No, men did not. But Robert had and she thanked God for it every morn and eve in her prayers.
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