Page 14 of Highland Guard

“Oh, Joan, nay, I didnae ken that.”

“Aye, but then I saw how ye and Harcourt looked at each other and decided a bairn from a mon ye truly wanted wasnae such a hardship for you.”

“I sometimes think that is why I often feel so guilty. It should have been a duty, nay a pleasure. Somehow the fact that there was pleasure made it all seem, weel, sinful.”

Joan grinned. “Aye, and I suspect the Church has a few rules about a lass feeling any pleasure in the arms of a mon, at least one who isnae a husband trying to breed his all-important heir.” She grew serious again. “And it was the knowledge that ye would enjoy yourself that made me shut my mouth. I believed ye should have that, at least once. David wasnae giving it to ye, couldnae, and at least once a lass should feel the fire. And now that ye are a widow, mayhap ye should be helping yourself to another taste.”

“’Tis too strong,” Annys said.

“Mayhap that is just because it has been too long with only memory to cling to.”

“I am sorely tempted despite the lingering guilt.”

“Yet ye hesitate.”

“I cannae explain weel. It consumes me and that is frightening. Mayhap it is just as ye said, a matter of having tasted it once and waiting too long to have another taste. Yet, e’en if I can brave that, o’ercome the guilt, and cease worrying so much about sin, there is still one thing that remains.”

“What would that be?”

“It hurt so much when he left. I kenned he had to. I kenned there was no future, that what we had was all we could have, but it still hurt.”

“And ye think he will ride away from ye again when this trouble ends?”

“He cannae stay, Joan.” Annys saw Joan frown and sighed. “He has a keep himself. He has kin close at hand there, people who depend on him to protect and provide. And I must stay here.”

Joan sighed. “I suppose ye must. There really isnae anyone else to put in your place, nay who can hold Benet’s inheritance safe for him.”

“Nay, there isnae. I certainly wouldnae trust a MacQueen to do that. So, whate’er I decide to do, in the end, Harcourt must ride away again.”

Joan patted her on the shoulder. “Mayhap ye need to just accept that truth and decide whether or not ye have the stomach to take all ye can get before that end comes.”

“Ye mean, make some new memories.”

“Aye, sometimes that is all one ends up with anyway.” Joan sighed and then winked at her. “Then again, mayhap ye could end up with yet another lovely wee bairn.”

Annys stared at her maid and closest friend. She knew she should be shocked but she was mostly intrigued. A child. It was so tempting. It was also so very wrong but that did little to end the thoughts dancing in her mind.

“I should be utterly ashamed of myself for e’en thinking of it, but I am thinking.” Annys shook her head. “We shall see. Thinking may hasten the death of that last flicker of guilt, if naught else. Yet, as I hate the idea that David might have seen me as much akin to a mare to breed, it would be wrong to look at Harcourt as just some stallion.”

“He rode away from the first child he left ye with.”

“Aye, he did, and that, too, is in my mind. If he can leave one child behind, why cannae he leave another?” Annys stood and brushed down her skirts. “But, let us go and see what there is to feed these men. After all, if I am contemplating using Sir Harcourt as my stallion, it would be wise to make certain he is fed weel and keeps up his strength.”

Chapter Five

Market day in the village was something Annys had always looked forward to and enjoyed. The people of Glencullaich were skilled in many crafts. People came from miles around to purchase their goods. Every merchant was busy, local and traveling ones alike. Every room available for a traveler was occupied, every place where a horse could be stabled or a carriage sheltered was full, and the alehouse could not hold all the men looking for a drink. The sight of such promise for Glencullaich was one that always lifted Annys’s spirits. Today it was not doing so. The blame for that could be placed squarely on the broad shoulders of one Sir Harcourt Murray.

Annys cursed her own foolishness. The man was not the master of her emotions. The confusion she suffered from was one of her own making. She could still taste him, still recall all the heady warmth of his kiss, and was shamed by that lust he stirred within her. Her husband had been dead for only ten weeks. It was wrong for her to want another so soon.

But want him she did. She could not shake him from her mind. Memories of the times they had visited their hidden bower near the burn kept crowding into her thoughts. Her dreams left her aching and all asweat each morning. Guilt over that was a hard knot in her chest. The realization that, although she had loved David and respected him, she had never desired him added to that guilt. Somehow she had to get past that but she could not think of a way to do so. She had, after all, broken a lot of rules during her time with Harcourt. It was a tiring circular path her mind refused to get off.

She was starting to annoy herself. Such fretting and indecisiveness was not like her. She had been the lady of a busy, prosperous keep for too long. At five and twenty she should be able to cease leaping from one thought to another and just act. She was letting her emotions rule her thoughts, pulling her in every direction. Just decide, Annys, she told herself. Aye or nay. It is that simple.

A noise from deep within a narrow alley to her right drew her attention and she welcomed the distraction. Annys stepped into the mouth of the alley that was little more than a narrow, stony path cut between two houses and running down to the burn. She listened closely, heard nothing over the sounds of the busy market, and was just about to return to wandering through that market, when the sound came again. It sounded very much like an animal in some distress. Annys hurried down the alley, going deeper into the shadows, and silently scolded herself for having a too-soft heart. The stable master had already complained about the number of cast-aside or injured animals she had brought home. He would not be at all pleased to see another.

When she first saw the cat, she cursed and hurried toward it, idly wishing it was a puppy. The stable master liked dogs. Someone had tied the cat to a small stake in the ground, the binding visibly tight around the animal’s back leg. It stood there looking utterly exhausted and she knew it had struggled mightily against its tether. She may need to have another talk with the children about how they should treat the animals that shared their homes and lands. Annys did not care if people thought her concern strange, only that they followed her wishes in how they treated their animals.

Speaking softly, she crouched in front of the cat. It hissed but she did not flinch for the warning was not accompanied by a show of claws. Cautiously she edged closer to its trapped leg, pausing to gently scratch the animal’s ears, a touch that was slowly accepted. Just as she reached out to see if she could easily untie what imprisoned the cat, someone grabbed her from behind. The cat hissed and tried to leap at something, claws out, only to be pulled back by its tether. Before she finished drawing a breath for a scream a gloved hand was slapped over her mouth. Someone had used her too-well-known softness for animals against her.