Page 17 of Anice’s Bargain

A Werrick soldier entered, his handsome face stern. He looked first to Anice and then to James and his jaw went tight. It was only a simple reaction, but it was enough.

The soldier was clearly protective, displeased to find James and Anice together alone. This man might very well be in love with her, as was the way with men when it came to bonny women.

“Drake.” Anice stepped forward and touched the man’s sleeve. It was an innocent touch, but it sank into James’s chest in a shard of bitter jealousy.

He was doing it again. Irritation at his own weakness lit like fire in his veins. He was letting himself warm toward a bonny woman. Surely, he’d learned his lesson the first time.

The ruby ring winked on Anice’s right hand. Her kiss had been too eager. Had she had a lover previously? Mayhap the ring had been a gift from one.

He forced his thoughts from the idea. He may have to marry Anice, and he would share her bed, but he would keep his heart well-guarded. The pain and humiliation of his last betrayal had ached more than his near-fatal battle wound.

The soldier, Drake, turned his intense black gaze on James. “I was told to summon ye. Laird Graham is gravely ill and has been taken to his chamber.”

James went still with the news. His da had been ill, and certainly weak, aye, but James hadn’t expected his death so soon. Not yet. “Has a priest been summoned?” he asked.

“Our healer is exceptional,” Anice said to James before giving her attention back to the handsome man. “Has Isla been sent to him yet?”

“I tried, my lady.” Drake offered. “She refuses to come. She’s in the kitchen with Nan—”

“Take James to his father’s rooms. I will see to Isla.” Anice stepped through the open doorway and called over her shoulder for Piquette. The dog blinked open tired eyes and hefted himself to his feet to trudge after her. Anice quickly departed the room without ever having glanced in James’s direction, no doubt regretful at their shared kiss.

Drake did not speak as he led the way to Laird Graham’s room. It was for the best. James had nothing to say to the handsome young man.

Inside, the chamber was thick with heat from the newly started fire, the windows shuttered against the outside air. The curtains to the massive bed were parted to reveal a slender frame lying prone.

James rushed to his father’s side, surprised how frail the great Laird Graham appeared. His da’s skin had faded to a gray pallor and his narrow chest rattled with each wheezing breath.

Never had James seen his father in such poor condition. So withered and shrunken in on himself, it was as though the old man was already dead, as though James had already lost him.

* * *

The rich scentof cooking stew drew Anice toward the kitchen as surely as did her purpose. Her mouth watered and her stomach clenched with the want of nourishment. For food and the pleasure of taste, of chewing.

Hunger buzzed through her and Piquette panted at her side with intermittent whines.

“I know.” She smoothed a hand over the top of his head. “We must get Isla though, for the sake of Laird Graham, and for the sake of all of us as well.” Speaking aloud was more for her resolve than it was for Piquette’s benefit.

It would be all too easy to sit down with a large bowl of stew, the gravy thick and rich, the meat tender and savory. She could practically feel the greasy thickness of it against her lips and gave a whimper of her own.

Such thoughts were impractical and detracting. Isla. She needed Isla.

She found the aged healer locked in deep discussion with the cook.

Isla peered around Nan toward a large pot sizzling over the fire. “Dinna use so much goose fat.”

“I don’t instruct you on the art of healing.” Nan swelled out her bosom. “Don’t you dare instruct me on the cooking of my food. This is my kitchen and I’ll have you gone.”

Various food stuffs were piled in neat stacks, more food than any of them had seen in months. However, it was not nearly as much as they had received in prior deliveries. No doubt the Graham forces had depleted the village of their usual stores.

“Isla, you’re needed,” Anice said.

The arguing stopped abruptly and both women turned to stare at her.

Isla narrowed her tawny eyes, which made them nearly disappear beneath the etched wrinkles on her aged face. “If this is about Laird Graham, I dinna care to aid the whoreson.”

Nan pushed in front of Isla. “She won’t leave me be.” The cook set her hands stubbornly on her hips, her apron streaked with fresh flour. “She insists I’ll make everyone ill with my cooking.”

Isla rolled her eyes and dramatically pushed in front of Nan’s obtrusive frame. “The people havena had a sufficient meal in nearly two months. Ye canna give them strong food or their stomachs will rebel.” Isla stared pointedlu at Nan. “I’ve told her as much, but she doesna listen and has given every person who has wandered down here a whole loaf of bread, a bit of cheese and ale. ’Tis far too much.”