Page 69 of Anice’s Bargain

She didn’t bother to argue with him. She’d learned long ago a staunch chivalric code of honor was not open for a challenge. Instead she simply inclined her head in a way that might pass off as being agreeable and left to rejoin her husband.

James approached her even as she closed the distance between them. His jaw was tight, and he appeared weary.

“What is it?” Anice asked.

James shook his head and gave her an easy, lopsided grin. “It isna anything. I’m hungry enough to buy the lot of those pastries and devour them all. Let us return to Caldrick for supper, aye?”

And while Anice agreed, she was not convinced all was as well as James tried to portray. Something was amiss, and she would find exactly what it was.

For the next three nights, James slipped from their bed as soon as Anice fell asleep. She knew this because once the bulk of his warmth and weight eased from her side, she immediately woke. The first two nights he’d returned quickly enough that it did not stir her concern.

The third night, however, he was gone so long, she wondered if he meant to return at all. It was near dawn when he finally came to her, icy cold and exhausted.

The fourth night, she was determined to follow him. The subtle queries she’d made on her own had done no good. Ingrith had reported that the Grahams also kept from the villagers and left their secrets blanketed. With the exception of the maid’s claims that they continued to behave in a strange fashion, there was nothing further to add.

In accordance with the prior nights, James slipped from Anice’s side once she was asleep. Except she was not truly sleeping. She’d merely altered her breathing to make it appear as though she was.

She remained still until the door closed with a barely audible click, then quickly roused herself from the bed and slid on a waiting robe. Piquette, who typically did not stir when James left, lifted his large head sharply.

“Nay, Piquette.” Anice whispered the words and made a lowering motion with her hand to instruct him to lay down. “Sleep.”

She’d walked him throughout the castle and surrounding lands that day in the hopes of tiring out the aging dog. Piquette uttered a grumbling groan, obviously torn with indecision.

“Sleep,” Anice repeated. “I’ll be back soon.” She gave a soft shushing noise and Piquette lowered his head, eyes drooping shut.

After over a month at Caldrick, she’d finally learned the layout of the halls and did not bother with a lit candle as she made her way from her room. She closed the door quietly behind her to prevent Piquette from following.

As anticipated, James’s steps on the stone floor of the silent castle echoed with enough sound for her to follow. Silent in her leather slippers, she whispered along the corridors far enough behind him so as not to rouse suspicion.

The clop of James’s large feet on the stairs alerted her to follow him down the narrow spiral of stone steps. She moved quickly, silently, when a door slammed closed. She waited only a moment, then pushed it open to ensure she did not lose sight of her husband.

There were no more footsteps, but there was the soft click of a door that was limned in light. She crept toward it.

“How much longer?” The voice was thin and gravelly. Anice knew it at once to belong to Laird Graham.

“A sennight,” James replied.

A growl of aggravation sounded followed by a wracking cough. “That’s longer than I’d anticipated.”

“Patience,” James said. “Ye’ll have what ye want.”

Laird Graham spoke again, but it was far too soft for her to make out. She shifted closer and strained.

“Patience, Da.” James spoke in a quiet tone Anice had always thought pleasing.

But it was not pleasing now. Rather, it sent a chill of ice rippling down her spine.

“Whatever it takes, we leave in a sennight, aye?” Laird Graham groused. “I’ve waited far too long to reclaim Werrick Castle.”

Anice pushed her hand to her mouth to keep from crying out.

“Once the remainder of our clan arrives,” James said by way of reply. Calm. He was far too calm for what had just been spoken. Which only meant one thing: he was involved.

James, who knew the torment Anice and her family had suffered after her mother’s rape, at the fatal violence of Leila’s birth, at the near death they had faced from starvation only two months prior due to the Graham reivers. James, who she had thought so above it all.

James, who at his core, was still a lying, thieving, murderous Graham.