Page 2 of Anice’s Bargain

Nan’s warm brown eyes fixed on Anice. “I’m inclined to agree with your da. There now, you needn’t be upset.” Nan settled a hand over Anice’s cheek. Though there was little food to be had, the comforting scent of baking bread still clung to Nan’s sleeve.

Since Marin had left, Nan had taken on more of a maternal role with the remaining four sisters—yet another area Anice had been found wanting.

Bixby rolled abruptly. His ears flicked and he darted into a shadow. At least one of them would eat well today. He always knew where to find the rats.

Piquette watched him with a furrowed brow, too big and clumsy for an attempt of his own.

“If I went down there, mayhap I could make them listen.” Anice kept her back held straight as she spoke. She was a woman of twenty, running the Werrick Castle as lady of the keep. Had Timothy not been slain in combat she would also be a wife.

If only he hadn’t been pulled to the battle of Berwick with her father. If only he’d returned home, they could have resumed their plans to wed. Memories of her time with Timothy twisted at something inside of her, the same as it always did when thoughts of him surfaced. Not with the regret of a lover, but rather, with a pang of guilt.

“How about a smile on your lovely face instead?” Nan smoothed Anice’s hair from her brow. “Your beauty is enough to cheer up the whole of Werrick.”

Anice swallowed the rising ire within her and complied. Not for herself, but for Nan.

She kept the smile pitched to the corners of her mouth until she was out of the kitchen and she let it fall without ceremony. Piquette nuzzled her palm with his big wet nose.

No doubt her father would have trusted Marin to go speak to the Graham reivers. He might go so far as to allow Ella, whose intelligence could unravel any stitch of trouble. Or Catriona, whose immaculate aim with an arrow could knock a feather from a bird mid-flight a hundred yards in the air. Or Leila, with her ability to foresee what was to come.

But Anice had none of those qualities. She was simply beautiful. A dull, shallow label she loathed. Regardless of how much she despised it, she clung to the praise. While paltry, the notoriety was better than being nothing.

Despite her father’s refusal and Nan’s warnings, Anice knew best how to aid her family. And it had everything to do with her beauty.

She waited until the castle went still that night, then crept down to the kitchen. In more ordinary times, servants would have been awake still with dishes to scour and foods to prepare for the following day. In their new life, everyone went to sleep early, even the servants, conserving their little strength remaining.

She slipped into the pathetically empty larder, where wine barrels were piled against one another. Beneath the collection lay a secret door, leading outside the castle walls. Piquette padded silently behind her.

Though she’d tried to get him to stay in her room without her, he’d refused. Forcing him would have resulted in a fuss she could ill afford, so she had finally conceded to allow him to join.

He sat and watched her with his head tilted, as she shifted about the casks, long since empty of their contents. The barrels were easily moved, the passage opened and within seconds, they were navigating the earthen tunnels beneath the castle. Anice cupped her hand over the candle flame to prevent it from snuffing out in the dank, cool air. Outside of the flickering light, darkness pressed in on them, threatening to swallow them whole.

In truth, she was grateful for Piquette’s presence, for the warm comfort of his massive body hugged up against her leg. He brought what she needed most—strength.

At last, they made their way to the gate of the narrow exit. She pulled the key from her pocket, clicked the lock open and eased out into the night through the tangle of concealing vines. Above, the stars winked down at her with such brightness, they appeared to be slivers of forgotten sunlight caught in a blackened sky.

Once the gate was locked and the vines rearranged to conceal the spot Piquette had barreled through, Anice hid the key beneath a large boulder. In the full face of a brilliant moon, they made their way through the dewy summer grass to the scattering of firelight below.

She had spent hours preparing for this moment, ensuring she’d chosen the right gown, that her hair gleamed like spun gold; her scent was feminine, but not overpowering. Mayhap everyone was correct. Mayhap there was nothing more to her than being attractive. After all, what she was about to do lacked skill and thought. If she stopped and truly thought of her actions, she would no doubt run back into the safety of Werrick’s walls.

She spun the small ruby ring on her right hand, the one her mother had given to her before their world had abruptly changed. Anice did not intend to quit this mission. Not until she was at the Graham encampment and had the opportunity to speak to whoever was in charge of the marauding band of murderers.

They had to listen. And if her beauty was the only way to make that happen, so be it.

* * *

James Graham regretted having cometo Werrick Castle. He’d been fool enough to think he might be able to sway his father from the war-torn path he had blazed for years over the border between England and Scotland.

“We’re wearing them down, lad.” The elder Graham grinned in the light of the campfire. Shadows danced over his aged face and gave him a ghoulish appearance. His hair, once a deep brown like James’s, fell in wisps of white around his skeletal cheeks. He bobbed his head in slow consideration. “I can feel their surrender coming, deep in my bones.”

Such words used to bring pride to James. Back when he had believed their way of life was the only way to live, prior to his acknowledgment of the damage left behind their success. Back when he looked up to this father and contemplated his words wise.

No doubt the laird of the Grahams was correct now, but it did not mean James took joy in such truths. They’d been camped at the base of the massive castle for nearly five months now. In the last month, their fires roasting freshly caught game had lured soldiers to the parapets. No doubt the scent of cooking meat made them wild with hunger.

The people of Werrick Castle would be on the barest bit of grain, if they had any left. The village nearby had not suffered at the hands of the Grahams, not when they were too important for their purpose in supplying the camping force with food, ale and women.

James hoped the sparing of the village also had to do with the lessening of his father’s blood lust, mayhap even a modicum of guilt. The acts of their prior years had been more than James could bear. He suppressed a shudder.

“Just think, Son. When they surrender, ye can have the land ye’ve been wanting.” Laird Graham bumped his elbow against James’s arm.