Page 23 of Anice’s Bargain

8

James was often aware of the attention he drew when he entered a room. His size alone was enough for most to turn their eyes on him. Entering the surprisingly large chapel within Werrick Castle was no different.

The low murmur of conversation eased upon his entry, and a sea of faces turned toward him with quiet curiosity. Those stares followed him to the end of a pew four rows back.

The woman he stood beside gazed up at him. “Where’d you come from?”

She clutched the hand of a small child, as did several other women around her, all of whom gaped at him. He could not fault them for their curiosity.

They were emaciated, their arms and legs stick-thin and practically lost in their oversized garments. James was thick with healthy muscle, his skin glowing with youth and vigor. In a room of skeletal frames, he stood out more so than usual.

“Ye’ll find out soon enough,” he muttered.

A glance about the room confirmed James’s father was not in attendance. While Laird Graham was not a religious man, James had assumed he would at least suffer through a mass in order to witness his scheme coming to fruition.

It appeared, however, that Laird Graham had decided to refrain from his victorious moment. For that, James was grateful.

“Excuse me.” A breathless voice panted at James’s right.

He turned to find the priest at his side, the man’s hands tightly clasped together. Bernard, if James remembered correctly.

Sweat dotted the top of the priest’s bald head. “You may sit with the family.” He unfolded his hands and indicated the balcony with a trembling finger.

James followed the direction and discovered Anice sitting in a gilded seat beside her sisters and her father. It did not escape his notice how Drake stood behind them all, ever the protector.

James hadn’t thought to look for the Werrick ladies when he first entered the chapel, but then he’d just wanted it all said and done so he could move on with his day. Whatever that might entail in his new location and role.

“I’ll be fine here,” he muttered.

Bernard’s eyebrows inched higher on his broad forehead. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m fine here.” James folded himself into the hard-backed wooden pew. Better to sit among the masses than over their heads in a clear indication of superiority.

The priest darted a nervous glance at the balcony and once more clasped his hands. “Can I not change your mind?”

James settled back, grinding the wood against his spine, as if he were perfectly comfortable. “Nay.”

Bernard cleared his throat and gave a tight-lipped smile. “Very well.” With that, he darted to the front of the chapel. All at once the lazy hum of conversation among the parishioners cut off into silence, followed by a collective rustling as the congregation sat.

The priest opened his hands in benediction. “Let us pray.” He bowed his head forward. The multi-hued light from the stained glass caught in myriad colors the shiny smoothness of his freshly shaved pate.

The inhabitants of Werrick Castle lowered their heads obediently. Bernard’s prayer thanked God for granting them peace in a time of war, and food in a time of famine. Simple notes of gratitude that were folded into several ornate speeches of a very, very long prayer.

“Prior to my sermon,” Bernard said at last. “I have a unique announcement to make.” He folded his hands over themselves in front of his waist and cast a coy expression. “Our own lovely Lady Anice is to wed.”

He paused and a collective gasp sucked through the congregation.

“God save Lord Clarion.” A woman in the pew in front of him made the sign of the cross.

James frowned. He’d never heard of Lord Clarion. Whoever the man was, he evidently had been tied to Anice in some way, and it seemed her Lord Clarion was dead. Mayhap she had loved him. And now James was to marry her.

At the pulpit Bernard cleared his throat and his cheeks flushed. The announcement had evidently not taken the path he’d intended. “Her newly betrothed is among you today. Three weeks hence after the final reading of the banns have been called, Lady Anice will wed James Graham.” He indicated James with a great flourish.

Silence ensued, followed by turning heads and horrified gazes. Their eyes burned with accusation; their mouths twisted with censure.

And James could not blame them for their hatred.

Bernard, oblivious to their malice, continued in his smooth, level tone. “Let it be known, I publish banns of marriage between James Graham and Lady Anice of this Parish. Once graced by the will of God and consummated, their union will seal a pact with the Grahams to enact a treaty between our people and provide peace.”