“Come, Ella.” Anice nodded to the cleared space of the bailey behind the stables, an area unable to be seen from the castle. “You’re with me.”
Ella gave one last, lingering look at Peter as she walked outside.
Anice shot James a glance. “I hope you can keep a secret.”
The corner of his lip curled up. “Ye know I can.”
Before the implication could stain her cheeks, Anice followed Ella from the stables with Cat bounding after them.
Geordie was at her side in an instant. “Do you want me to set your target?”
“That would be lovely, thank you.” Cat beamed a smile that no doubt devastated the boy, and he ran off, casting glances back at her.
Not that Anice had much time to observe such displays of unrequited love. Not when Ella drew back her axe and swung.
Anice ducked low to avoid the blow and bolted upright with a jab of her dulled blade. Of them all, Ella had to utilize the most care during their mock battles. While the edge of her weapon had been dulled to render it safer, the impact could still shatter bone.
Ella leapt back, avoiding being struck by Anice’s blade, and the battle began in full.
13
James could not take his eyes from the women who parried and feinted with padded armor over their kirtles. These were not mere noblewomen whose talents were related to needlework and running households. Nay, these women were warriors.
All around him, the Earl of Werrick’s bonny daughters fought like men, each with their own specialty. Cat landed every arrow she launched into the middle of the target. Even wee Leila wielded her dual daggers with dexterous hands that moved with a nimbleness his eyes could scarce track.
Ella spun around and brought the axe with her, but Anice arced her blade in time to obstruct its path toward her head.
Forgotten where he stood on the outskirts of their melee with Piquette sitting at his side, James observed the woman who would be his wife with a fresh perspective. Battle enhanced the usual grace of her movements, in the same manner as when she danced. Only far more lethally.
Her words came back to him then from when they’d danced, when she’d instructed him the moves were like those in battle. He’d been too heady with drink then to wonder at what she’d meant. He felt almost foolish now for having offered to train her on her sword.
She was no novice to the art of war.
Her well-timed thrusts and blocks were the result of countless hours of concentrated practice. While Anice was bonny in daily life with her careful eye for fine clothing and the lovely sensuality of her face and lush body, she was stunning in battle.
Her eyes glittered with determination, locked on her target with confidence. It was no wonder she did not want a meek man who would treat her like something delicate. She was no fragile woman at all, but a pleasant surprise.
Ella’s axe whirled through the air toward Anice’s face. Too fast. Too hard. James’s heart lurched in his chest, but before he could get to his feet, Anice stopped the weapon with only one inch between her nose and the heavy block of iron.
Without hesitation, Anice circled her wrist and forced the axe to the ground, then lifted her blade to Ella’s throat. A cocky half-grin announced Anice’s victory.
The battle was done. James approached the ladies and lowered his head respectfully in Anice’s direction. “I was wrong about yer level of skill. I’ve no’ ever seen a woman fight like ye. Ye handle a sword better than most men.”
Anice beamed at him and ducked her head, as if to hide how much his praise had pleased her. The action was both humble and endearing.
“You should see Marin with a sword.” Ella set the heavy head of her axe to the ground. “She moves so fast that you would swear her sword was enchanted.”
“It’s true,” Cat called out from the side of her bow and released another arrow. The lad at her side darted off to reclaim the lot of arrows bristling at the center of the target.
“Aye, it is.” Anice lifted her head. Her smile was now absent its proud sheen. “Marin possesses far greater skill than me.”
There was a hurt there, tucked in the back of Anice’s happy expression, and in this exchange, James realized he was glimpsing that internal pain for the first time. Nay, mayhap there had been other times and he had not recognized it. James folded his arms over his chest to keep from reaching out to her. “I havena seen Marin fight, but I’ve seen ye and am in awe of yer skill.”
“Thank you.” Anice lowered her head again and hid her expression from him.
“In fact, I’d like to test yer skill.”
That got her attention. She snapped her head up. “You want to fight me?”
He grinned. “Aye.”
The moonlight played off her features and highlighted the sharpness of her gaze at the anticipation of such a challenge. “Ella, get the man a practice sword.”
“And I can spar with Peter.” Ella dropped her axe and ran off to comply with Anice’s request.
It was obvious the sister held affection for the handsome Master of the Horse. Better Ella than Anice.
Within moments, Ella was happily sparring with the Master of the Horse, and James had a practice sword in his hands as he stood opposite Anice in the small fighting ring. The weapon was awkward in his hands, short and off-weight, much different from the longer claymore he typically used in battle.
He didn’t have a chance to adjust to the foreign heft of the weapon, though. No sooner had he braced himself in front of Anice than she set on him. Her blade swung at him, smooth and swift. He feinted and jabbed his weapon toward her.
A sudden note of fear nipped at the back of his mind. What if he hurt her?
The tip of his blade dipped with the flash of indecision.
Anice flicked her sword against his and knocked it easily out of her path. She lunged, her attack going first left, then right, then left again. He blocked each blow but did not strike out at her.
She renewed her efforts with such vigor, James’s full attention was required to ensure he didn’t become her next fallen opponent. On her following attack, she ducked as she lunged, nearly catching him in the gut. While he evaded being struck, he hadn’t anticipated her foot sweeping toward his legs. He flew backward and hit the ground with a hard crash.
Anice appeared over him with the dulled point of her blade hovering over his neck. “I told you.” She removed her weapon and offered her hand instead. “I’m not delicate.”
He clasped her hand but used his own body weight to stand lest he pull her down with him. Though in truth, the idea of having her on the ground with him held great appeal.
Mayhap the next battle could be hand-to-hand, a lot of rolling around together, bodies twisting against one another. The very thought made his blood to race hot.
She swept her long hair over her shoulder in a gesture far more like a lady than a soldier, and he found it equally appealing. Nay, she was not delicate, not in the ways that mattered, but there were parts of her that were fragile, vulnerable.
Like the secret she had tried to brush off and cover with lust. But he was a stubborn man and the more she tried to hide her secret, the more he wanted to know it. And he would find out.
The following days passed in a whirl of mock battle and stolen kisses. Anice enjoyed the time spent sparring with her future husband. Almost as much as the time spent alone in the dark corridor as she left him at his chamber each evening. Those intimate moments hadn’t been anything like the night of the feast, much to Anice’s disappointment, but they’d had the opportunity for several stolen kisses before James’s guard arrived.
Preparations for their upcoming nuptials had been slow moving until after the third calling of the banns, when everything fired into chaos.
There was the feast to plan with Nan, the flowers and herbs for decorations to coordinate with her sisters, the fine details to smooth over with Bernard regarding the wedding mass. Honestly, it was all too much. She didn’t want spectators there, casting
their judgment on the union. Though she was marrying James to save her people, many saw the act of her wedding their greatest enemy as a betrayal.
It was all enough to make her head spin. She lay awake two nights prior to the wedding. Not with lust burning her thoughts as they had previously, but with the endless list of tasks. In truth, the only part of the marriage she anticipated had nothing to do with the vows said, or the finely sculpted marzipan flowers on a bit of pastry. It had everything to do with the consummation.
James still held back. She could sense it in the way his hands shook slightly when they kissed, in the restrained grip on the fabric of her dress. His kisses had stolen her breath and left her desperate for so much more.
Soon.
Desire swept away her other worries and replaced them with the steady pulse between her legs. Soon, James would peel away her gilded thread dress and she would enjoy the press of his body to hers, gloriously naked and aroused.
A scream sounded in the distance and obliterated all sense of lust. Anice leapt from her bed before her mind realized what she was doing. No sooner had she set foot in the hallway than the cry sounded again, pitched and mournful.
Anice spun in the direction it had come from and ran all the way to her sisters’ room with Piquette close behind her. There they found Ella and Cat beside Leila in their large bed.
Ella smoothed Leila’s dark hair from her face. “She won’t wake.”
“Leila,” Cat called. “Sister, you must wake.”
Leila jerked her head from Ella’s touch and swept back away from them all, her eyes wide with terror. “Mama.”
Anice flinched at the empty word. It had been used for their mother when she’d been alive. Leila, however, had never once spoken of her as ‘Mama’.
Piquette issued a sharp whine and nudged at Leila’s hand.
She did not so much as look down at the beloved dog. “Our Mama.” She shook her head vigorously, sending the dark tendrils whipping around her shoulders. “I don’t want to see. I don’t want to see.” She pushed her hands to her face and screamed. “Don’t make me see it.”
Anice lurched forward and caught Leila’s small body in her arms. “Look at me,” she said with force. “Now.”
Leila obeyed, her pupils mere dots in the sea of wide, panicked blue. “They took her.” Leila shook her head. “The Grahams. They took our Mama. She clawed the ground and her nails bent backward.” Leila’s hands curled in front of her face and she studied them with intensity. “They had no mercy.”
Anice’s heart slammed in her chest. She covered Leila’s eyes, as though she could stop the vision, and pulled the child to her chest. “Don’t, my sweet lamb. Don’t.”
“Is she well?” James’s voice came from the doorway. He wore only his leine and a pair of trews.
Anice turned to him and shook her head. She’d meant it as a way of telling him to leave, but he quickly made his way to her side. “What’s happened?”
Leila turned her frightened gaze up at James and began to tremble forcefully in Anice’s arms. “You remain in the company of men who commit vile offenses.”
James straightened as though he’d been struck.
Leila broke free of Anice with a strength she didn’t know the girl could possess. “I thought you were different. Better.” She launched herself at James and pummeled him with her small fists.
At first, James did not move. Lines of exhaustion etched his face and his eyes were bright and unreadable. He swallowed and carefully caught Leila’s hands, stilling her attack. They stared at each other for a long moment, both mute. It was as though something unsaid passed between them.
Leila’s shoulders relaxed suddenly, and she buried herself into James’s arms with a sob. He held her until the force of her tears ebbed, while the rest of them all looked on, helpless.
“It was so terrible.” Leila’s words were muffled against James’s chest.
He closed his eyes, his expression crumpled with pain. “I know, lass. If I had been there, I would have stopped them. I would have…I would have done something.”
Leila nodded against his chest. “Forgive me.” Leila leaned back to regard James with a long glance. Her brow furrowed and her mouth tucked downward with chagrin. She put her hand to her lips to stifle a gasp. “It will be a failure,” she whispered.
Graham or not, James had endured enough of Leila’s dreams. “Come, sister,” Anice said gently. “Getting some sleep will help.”
She guided her youngest sister from James and back to the large bed, where Cat and Ella waited with concerned expressions. It was never easy sleeping with Leila. Anice remembered the times when she’d had to sleep with her. The poor thing was plagued with terrible dreams and often woke up screaming: sometimes of people who had long ago died, other times of things that might come to pass, and still others of a man she referred to only as the lion, while shuddering in fear.
Leila shook her head stubbornly, as she climbed into the large bed. Anice tucked the blankets around her youngest sister and wished she could as easily put a shield around the girl, to dispel the horror of her dreams.
“Shush now and sleep.” Anice kissed Leila on the brow, then Cat and Ella, though they were both far too old for such endearments. The dreams had always left them rattled, regardless of their ages. Anice had taken over their mother’s former chambers after Marin left for Kendal Castle. That space of time had still not been enough that Anice had forgotten how terrible the after-effects of such nightly interruptions.
Leila set her steady gaze on James who stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, wearing only his hastily donned leine and trews, then turned her large eyes up to Anice. Leila sighed, the huff of air somewhere between exasperation and sadness. “I mean, the marriage will be a failure.”
14
Anice hadn’t needed Leila to tell her that the marriage would fail. Of course it would. What marriage starting under such circumstances could possibly be successful?
Regardless, in the following two days, her youngest sister’s warning carved their worry into Anice. They had affected James as well, though he didn’t say as much. Worry etched lines across his brow that he tried to smooth away when he saw her.
It was the night prior to Anice’s wedding and all she could do was stare at the gilt cloth dress. The thing was as heavy as it was costly. How fitting for a marriage that seemed to match those very traits.
A gentle knock sounded at her door. Her heart lurched with excitement as much as trepidation. But surely it was not James. They had not been alone together since the night of Leila’s dreams, and her declaration of failure.
Her warning could encompass so many different outcomes. It could be as simple as Anice’s inability to give James an heir, or it could be as great as the Grahams using the alliance to attack Werrick Castle. The latter thought sent an icy shiver down her back.
But Leila could not always elaborate on her visions, and so oftentimes, one was simply left with a warning.
“Anice, are you in there?” The warm voice curled around Anice’s fears like a balm.
“Marin.” Anice raced to the door, nearly tripping over Piquette, who leapt up with equal excitement.
Marin stood on the other side of the door, looking as regal as ever in a long, flowing blue dress and a wide, beautiful smile. She opened her arms and Anice flew into them like a child. The familiar comfort of her sister’s embrace exacerbated all the anxiety of Anice’s upcoming nuptials, and tears began to prickle her eyes.
The solid weight of Piquette laying his heavy body at their feet called her back to her senses and kept her emotions from overwhelming her. She pressed her head to Marin’s shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut until the threat of crying abated. She was a woman who was old enough to marry, a woman who had saved her people with her decision to wed James. Tears were for whelps.
“Are you well, Sister?” Marin asked and drew back, her brows pinched with concern.
“Aye, of course.” Anice waved o
ff her sister. “Come in, we have so much to discuss.”
Marin bent to scratch Piquette’s ears and bestow a kiss on his broad head, but her expression still held skepticism and concern when she straightened. The woman was impossible with how much she seemed to inherently glean from others.
Anice rushed on before her sister could try to dig deeper. She wasn’t ready. Yet. “Life at Kendal agrees with you, Marin. You’re practically glowing.” Anice lowered her voice. “Unless there is perchance another reason why you’re glowing.”
Marin’s elated expression wilted slightly. “There is no child. Still.” Her fingers swept over her flat stomach.
“Then it must be marriage that so agrees with you.” Anice grabbed her sister’s hands to draw them from her empty womb. “You look perfect.”
The sparkle returned to Marin’s eyes. “I am so happy. Far more than I ever thought I could be.” Marin’s hands tensed against Anice’s. “I hope the same for you.”
It will be a failure.
“I am certain it will be,” Anice lied.
“And this is your dress.” Marin released her hands and swept to the wedding gown. She bent to examine the detailed hand embroidery at the neck and sleeves. “It’s lovely. You’ll be the most beautiful bride to ever grace a chapel.”
And just like that, with the power of Marin’s approval, the heavy garment took on an airiness that made Anice want to glide into it and soar.
“You do know what will happen, don’t you?” Marin asked the question in such a soft, low tone, Anice almost did not hear her.
“What will happen?” Anice asked slowly.
“Aye with, well, on the wedding night.”
“The wedding night,” Anice repeated.
Marin turned from the gown and made her way to the bed, dragging Anice with her. “Yes, the consummation.” She sat primly on the edge of the mattress and patted the space beside her for Anice.
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