Chapter Six #2
“Joan’s sons. They are older than Benet. Ten and twelve and they work in the stables most days. But they are verra good with him.”
“’Tis good for a wee lad to have some older ones willing to play with him. We dinnae oftimes see it, but they can teach a wee lad a lot he needs to ken. But, are there no younger children about the keep?”
“There are a few lassies his age but they dinnae play together much. They have all reached that silly age where they each believe the other sex is dim-witted or worse. Benet complained yestereve that all wee Jenny wants to do is kiss him and he hates it because it makes his face all wet.” She grinned when Harcourt laughed but then slowly grew serious again as she looked toward the door Benet had just run out of.
“I didnae give it a thought but he just ran off alone.”
“Nay, he isnae and willnae be alone until this problem with Sir Adam is settled. Every place he can leave the keep is being watched and a mon will linger close by at all times.”
“Ah, a loose rein.”
“Too tight a one and he might try to slip free of it.”
“True.” She finished off the small cup of cider she had poured for herself and stood up. “The MacFingals willnae be in too much danger, will they?”
“I willnae lie and say they are in no danger at all, but they are verra, verra skilled at what I have asked them to do. As their father liked to say, MacFingals could steal the coins off a dead mon’s eyes and be gone before the mourners e’en realized they were there.”
“Oh. What a verra strange recommendation for a spy,” she murmured, then laughed and shook her head. “The MacFingals are a wee bit unusual, arenae they.”
“A wee bit.” He stood up and walked over to link his arm with hers. “Come. Walk with me and I will tell ye all about them.”
Annys knew she should say no and go do some work, but it was a fine day and she decided to allow herself just a little weakness.
She nodded and he led her out of the keep.
They strolled around the grounds, ending up in the garden, now empty of snail and boys.
All the while she listened to him tell her tales of the MacFingals torn between shock, laughter, and pure disbelief.
“So many children,” she said and shook her head as he led her to the bower and urged her down to sit on the bench next to him. “Yet, he kept them all.”
“Aye, he did. And for all those many, many lads grumble about the mon, they love him. He kens each and every one’s name, when they were born, and who the mother was. Not one of them doubts that in his too often outrageous way, their father cares for them all.”
“A good thing for a child to ken.”
She suddenly felt both sad and angry. She was the legitimate get of her parents, their only daughter and one of a mere three children.
Yet not once had she felt cared for in the way all those dozens of MacFingals had.
Annys fought the fear that it was her fault even as she wondered what was wrong with her parents that they could not even compare well to a man who bred so many bastards, was proud of his skill for thievery, and made enemies of all his neighbors until his own son had to take his place as laird just to avert war with everyone for miles around them.
“Ye have gone verra quiet,” Harcourt said as he slipped his arm around her shoulders.
“I was but thinking that the MacFingals, for all that is wrong there, had a better parent than I e’er did.” She cursed softly at what she had just confessed. “Dinnae heed me. I but had a moment of feeling sorry for myself.”
“I did hear that your parents were nay here verra often.”
“The wedding, the birth, and David’s funeral.”
“Then what did they think to gain from arranging the marriage? So few visits imply they were nay trying to gain much from David.”
“Oh, they got what they wanted. David’s father got them into the court circles.
They had ne’er been able to get there for my mother’s father had angered the wrong people years ago and the whole family was banished.
The ruler of the court may change but the ones who dinnae wish to see ye or yours take longer to disappear and the talk of some taint, e’en longer than that.
But they are back and from all I hear, they are rarely anywhere else. ”
“So, they didnae really care which son ye married as they had already gained what they sought.”
“Aye. I was brought here to learn to be the wife of the laird of Glencullaich.”
“They didnae e’en try to make a new contract when Nigel was cried dead?”
“Nay, although I think they did get a few wagons of goods from David.” She looked at him. “I think ’tis more embarrassing than aught else. I would thank them for placing me in such a wonderful keep save that I ken weel they didnae care much about that, or e’en about what sort of mon Nigel was.”
“Ye have sisters or brothers?”
“Two brothers. One younger and one older.”
“Why did ye nay ask them to come and help ye with Sir Adam?”
“Colin is too busy trying to keep our lands making enough coin to support my mother and father. Ah, and Edward has just wed a lass whose father sees him as his heir to his small holding. I do get word from them now and then but I kenned weel that I could find no aid there. That isnae meaning they wouldnae have offered, just that they cannae. I kenned ye were a warrior. My brothers cannae claim that, either.”
“And that is why ye didnae wish to go home. T’was cold there, aye?”
She felt the press of his warm lips against the corner of her eye and answered, “Aye. That and my cousins. Evil boys. Men now, but long gone from there. I complained about them once to my mother and got a beating for it. I was too na?ve to realize that it was my uncle and aunt who had the money e’en though my father had the land. ”
Harcourt had a fair idea of what those “evil boys” had been trying to do with their very young cousin.
He gently tugged her closer but it was not just sympathy for the lonely child she must have been.
There was nothing he could do to change the past. What he wanted was a kiss and for some odd reason he was approaching the matter with all the skill of an untried boy.
Annys realized she was nearly sitting in Harcourt’s lap. The thought made her blush for a large part of her thought that would be a lovely place to be. One look in his amber eyes told her that he was not thinking about comforting her for rousing bad memories at the moment.
“Harcourt,” she began, trying to put a warning in her voice, which came out sounding a little too welcoming.
“Just a kiss,” he said and brushed his mouth over hers.
It was never just a kiss to her but Annys had no intention of confessing that.
She told herself to get up and walk away, perhaps even leave him with a few sharp words of rebuke.
But his lips were so soft and warm. Even the light touch of them on hers was enough to make the heat of need flow through her body.
As she let him draw her more fully into his embrace a little voice told her that she would pay dearly for giving in to such temptation. Annys ignored it.
Her whole body welcomed his kiss. As his tongue caressed the inside of her mouth her hunger for him grew until she ached.
For a moment she tensed when he moved his hands up from her waist. Then he stroked the sides of her breasts with his fingers, making them swell and ache for the feel of his caress, and she trembled.
The strength of her reaction to such a light, not quite intimate, touch startled her and broke the spell his kiss had put her under.
Annys became all too aware of their surroundings.
The bower might be shaded, but they were not completely hidden away.
Anyone, including Benet, could stumble upon their little tryst. Sharing heated kisses in the garden was not the way the lady of Glencullaich should behave.
Harcourt silently cursed when her soft, willing body abruptly grew tense.
He wanted to hold her tight and bring back the fire he had tasted in her kiss but he knew that would be a mistake.
What he desperately wanted to know was what had happened to douse her fire.
He could then make certain it never happened again.
Unless it was some memory of him that turned her cold and cautious.
It was an alarming thought. Harcourt could not think of anything he had done.
He knew men could be complete lackwits about what would and would not upset a woman, but he prided himself on being more astute than most. The women in his family took pride in making sure their men, especially their sons, had some faint ability to see when they had done something that might offend or upset a woman before they went out into the world.
If he did not find out what was turning her cold soon he was going to be useless in the coming fight.
He would be too crippled with unsatisfied lust to even walk, he thought, and almost smiled at that nonsense.
In truth, he would more likely be eager to kill as many of their enemy as possible.
“Annys? Is something wrong?” he asked when she pulled free of his embrace. “Ye look concerned.”