Chapter Eight
Anne woke, and as the world came into focus her first thought was about Camden. At first she’d thought it had been a dream, but the reality of all that occurred slowly sank in.
All control had been lost in those moments. His mouth had taken hers, and she kissed him back just as intensely. The tension that had built exploded as their bodies pressed together. Never in her life had she felt something so impactful.
Surely it had only been brought about because they both live alone, and the body had urges. At the same time, it was best they clarify that although it had happened once, it was best they not allow it to happen again. That meant they had to avoid situations where they’d be alone.
Anne brushed her hair away from her face and then braided it, her mind awhirl the entire time. She also had to insist that Camden never tell Moyra, if indeed they were courting. As much as she and the woman disliked each other, it would only make things worse.
Her plan in place, Anne headed to the village square.
The village center was bustling with activity. Anne deftly avoided colliding with a group of children dashing across her path as she neared a stand to admire their embroidered clothing.
“Anne,” Effie said, grabbing her by the arm, pulling her from the stall. “Did ye hear?”
“What has happened?” Anne said, taking Effie’s hands, her throat going dry. Immediately her gaze flew in the direction of the blacksmith shop. “My brother?”
“Gowan is fine, as far as I ken,” Effie said impatiently. “The old woman, Agnes, is dead. She was found on the ground, in front of her cottage.”
All breath left Anne’s lungs. “Outside? Why?” It was the only two words she could formulate.
Effie shrugged, concern etched on her pretty face. “That is all I was told. Then I hurried to find ye.”
Despite acknowledging that she should move, her body didn’t respond right away. Anne blinked away tears. “Aye, we must go.”
“I should have been more delicate in telling ye. Ye saw about her and were probably her only friend,” Effie said, giving her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Then she took Anne’s hand. “We best hurry. I dinnae ken who is there yet.”
As they made their way from the village center, Anne caught sight of Camden. He stood just outside the doorway of the apothecary with Moyra. Seeming to sense her perusal, he looked over.
Moyra turned following his line of vision and placed a possessive hand on his forearm. Then she said something, getting his attention back.
“She will nae be happy until he succumbs and marries her,” Effie said with a huff. “If he does nae see it, then he’s daft.”
Her stomach clenched at the thought of Camden being married to Moyra. Which was ridiculous, as she had no claim on the man.
“Perhaps she will make a good wife,” Anne said, sounding insincere even to her own ears.
Effie snorted, “She will undoubtedly keep his interest in bed. However, her ways will have the opposite effect.”
Her friend turned her attention back to Anne. “Ye are pale. I am nae thinking straight. Ye have just had a shock, and I am babbling about Moyra and Camden.”
They hurried to the blacksmith’s shop to fetch Gowan so he could give them a ride on his wagon to Agnes’s cottage.
Upon arriving at the tiny cottage, several people were already there. An older couple and Beitris, who looked to Anne with sympathy.
“Where is she?” Anne asked, climbing down from the cart. “Where is Agnes?”
“Inside,” Beitris said. “We placed her on the bed for now.”
Her throat tightened as she made her way inside and sadness overtook her as she entered the humble home.
It was strange, but the interior of the cottage seemed devoid of life; it was as if in dying, Agnes took the life from the room. On the small cot, the slight body lay atop the bedding. She was covered to the chest with a blanket.
Beitris walked in and stood next to Anne. “I think she must have been outside all night. She was found just before dawn by one of the young men heading to the training center.”
Anne sniffed and nodded. “Bless her, poor thing.”
“Aye, ’tis what happens with the elderly, who are left behind or forgotten by their family. Perhaps she felt ill and tried to get help.” Beitris sighed. “I suppose we will never ken.”
A short while later, Gowan and Effie left to fetch the village vicar, and Beitris left to find men to dig a grave for Agnes.
Left alone, Anne pulled a chair to where Agnes’s body was and sat. Her heart felt heavy, sadness seemed to fill the air.
“I am so sorry ye had to die alone and were probably scared and so very… lonely.” The last word caught in her throat. “I wish someone had kept ye company the last days of yer life.”
The walls of the small cottage seemed to close in, and Anne had to hurry to the front door and look out. She stood there, taking in deep breaths of air, unsure why she could barely breathe until realizing she was crying. Sadness enveloped her as uncontrollable sobs escaped.
She’d never admitted to anyone—she barely admitted it to herself—what her biggest fear was.
What she hoped never to experience. What she was now facing with Agnes.
Dying alone. To be terrified. In pain. Crying out for help.
With no one hearing. No one coming. Exactly what had happened to Agnes.
Exactly what she feared would be her fate as well.
Unmarried and without children, who was there to ensure her well-being? Gowan visited regularly, but once he married and had a family of his own, that would change. Not that she would resent it. On the contrary, she would be happy he had a full life.
It was time to face the truth, to accept that she had to marry, if not for love, then because it was necessary. A woman could not live alone, without children or a partner; she was leaving herself vulnerable.
Looking over her shoulder toward Agnes, Anne let out a long sigh. Once all was settled with Agnes, she would speak with Gowan and ask that he help her find a suitable husband.
By the time her brother’s wagon appeared in the distance, Anne had made up her mind to have the conversation with Gowan.
Stepping outside to wait for her brother, something caught Anne’s attention.
There was another man on horseback behind the wagon heading in her direction as well.
Anne narrowed her eyes, her stomach flipped at seeing red hair, automatically knowing it was Camden.
As the wagon drew closer, Anne could see on the wagon sitting beside Gowan was the vicar, and in the back were Effie and Moyra.
Pressing her lips together, Anne pushed down the wave of anger. What was Moyra doing there? She’d never visited, or for that matter even known Agnes.
The village vicar climbed down from the wagon, his movements smooth.
The vicar was about six and thirty, with graying temples and a closely trimmed beard.
His warm gaze met hers. “I ken ye are saddened by Agnes’ passing.
” He placed a firm hand on her shoulder making Anne’s eyes burn with unshed tears.
She didn’t have to look to ken Camden walked past, a shiver of awareness traveled down her spine. The three men went inside to get the body, while Effie, Moyra, and Anne stood outside in awkward silence.
“We will take her back to the village graveyard,” Effie informed Anne, pulling her away from Moyra, who pointedly ignored them.
Anne leaned into Effie’s ear. “Why is she here?”
“Gowan informed Camden they would nae be going hunting today. Camden offered to come and help. She then insisted on coming as well.” Effie hissed out the word she.
Agnes’s slight body was brought out and laid on the back of the cart. Effie and Anne exchanged looks. “There wouldn’t be room for all three of them to ride on the back of the cart.
“I think only two of us will fit on the back of the cart,” Effie said looking to the men. “Perhaps I can squeeze onto the bench with ye and the vicar,” she said to Gowan who eyed Effie and then looked to the short bench, which was obviously too small for three people.
“Or one of us can ride with Camden,” Moyra said with more enthusiasm than the occasion called for.
Camden rushed to Anne, took her arm, and pulled her toward his mount.
“Let’s go.” His hands encircled Anne’s waist, and he lifted her to the saddle.
Not quite prepared, Anne did her best to sit, but she’d never ridden a horse, so she wobbled slightly.
Clutching at the saddle, she prayed she wouldn’t slide off sideways.
Thankfully, Camden mounted easily and pulled her close and steadied her. Anne blew out a shaky breath as she glanced down to the ground. It seemed a far distance.
Effie let out a bark of laughter at her stricken face. Then, after a pointed look from the vicar, she covered her mouth with both hands. “Camden, I believe ye have scared Anne witless. She has nae ridden a horse before.”
“We best get going,” the vicar attempted to guide Effie and Moyra to the cart. Moyra stood stock-still, her venomous gaze directed at Anne. “Ye should have told me to ride with ye. I am nae afraid.” She slid a look to Camden, who Anne felt shrug.
It wasn’t until they began riding behind the cart headed to the village that Anne realized the proximity of her body to Camden’s. She was leaning back, pressed against him, her backside snug between his legs.
“I could try to move forward and give ye some room to be able to handle the horse,” she said, unsure if it was the right thing to say. So far it seemed he was having no problem at all maneuvering the beast.
Anne could feel his chest expand as he prepared to speak. “It is better this way. Easier for me to hold the reins,” he responded.
Camden’s warm breath blew across her ear, and she had to close her eyes and concentrate to keep from sighing like a love-struck lass. “I can only imagine how hurtful it is to ye that Agnes died. What ye did in the last years, made her life better.”
“I hope so,” Anne responded, genuinely touched by his words. “Ye are kind to say it.”
“’Tis nae kindness, but the truth. Imagine being old and lonely, nae having anyone to care if ye eat or nae. Ye ensured she was fed and her home was kept clean.”
All sensual tension left, and she closed her eyes and held her breath to keep from crying at Camden stating her deepest fears out loud. Finally, she was able to speak, albeit in a shaky voice. “I dinnae wish to imagine it, much less live it. The sad reality is that many women face a very sad fate.”
Whether she imagined it or not, it seemed Camden’s body stiffened, and suddenly it felt as if some sort of space appeared between them.
“Do ye…” he began, then cleared his throat. “Do ye spend a great deal of time with yer brother?”
“I do, aye,” Anne replied unsure why he’d asked. “As I imagine ye do with Beitris and yer aunt, and uncle.”
He chuckled softly, the deep grumble in his chest vibrating through her. “Not so much Beitris as of late. I spend a great deal of time with Brae, the injured lad now. He has decided to become my apprentice.”
Thankfully, their conversation shifted, but still, Anne wondered what he’d begun to ask before changing his mind and asking about time with her brother. Obviously, both had decided to skirt the topic of what had happened between them.
Anne said, “I am glad to hear that Brae has such aspirations. With Beitris living away from the village, Brae can fill in for ye when ye have other duties. From what I hear, soon several women will be delivering bairns. Then there are the farming injuries once the warmer weather comes upon us.”
“Ye are an observant woman. Not everyone notices things as such. There are several elderly who require constant care as well,” he hesitated for a beat. “There is much to be done, not just for a healer, but also for someone who does nae mind caring for others.”
“There is.” Anne let out a sigh suddenly wishing they could continue riding and talking.
Despite the attraction to him, even before she’d accepted it, she’s always felt a comfortable rapport with Camden.
They’d had long discussions about healing practices, about her work with the elderly.
Through the years, she’d kept herself protected from any kind of fanciful thoughts about him.
After all, he’d always seemed closed off, an obvious boundary between them.
It was best to make it clear that they could only remain friends.
“Camden?” Anne said her voice low.
“Aye?”
“Do ye think it best if—”
“We have arrived,” Moyra called out, saving Anne from asking the question that she’d not been sure how to form.
Camden led the horse forward to the side of the church. Then asked, “What were ye going to ask?”
“Never mind, it was something silly,” Anne lied, letting out a sigh when he dismounted, leaving her to feel not only adrift emotionally, but also terrified of how to go about climbing down.
“Lean forward over the horse’s neck, then slide sideways toward me,” Camden directed. When she did as he instructed she slid easily from the horse’s back and into his arms.
As he lowered her to stand, their gazes clashed, his hands lingering around her waist longer than was appropriate until someone cleared their throat. Her brother. Of course.