Chapter Eleven
Fear cut through Annys like shards of ice.
The man who had seen her was drawing his sword and three others were stepping out of the shadows, also arming themselves.
Biddy squealed in fright and ran toward the keep.
It was a long run back to Glencullaich, she thought even as she hiked up her skirts and began to run, heartily cursing Biddy and the men now chasing her for robbing her of the chance to take the shorter path back home.
“Dinnae kill her,” yelled out one of the men. “Sir Adam will be wanting to get his hands on her.”
Sir Adam could just keep on wanting, Annys thought.
She had no intention of falling into that man’s hands.
Her heart pounded as she ran, fighting to keep herself moving fast enough not to lose the small lead she had on Adam’s men.
They might not be planning to kill her but Sir Adam wanted her dead. She had no doubt about that.
If she had breath to spare, Annys knew she would have cheered when the walls of Glencullaich came into view. She could see the men upon the walls. The outcry from them was sweet music to her ears. Thinking herself safe, she allowed her fears to ease a little.
A small divot in the ground took her down a heartbeat later.
Annys cried out as pain shot up her leg when it was twisted badly as her foot sank into the small hollow in the ground.
That ground proved to be very hard when she hit it.
The speed she had been moving at when she tripped caused her to slide and roll over the ground for several feet, adding even more aches and pains.
Hearing the men chasing her drawing close, she tried to get to her feet, ignoring the ominous dampness at her waist, but unable to ignore the pain in her leg when she tried to stand on it.
Men raced out of Glencullaich, stopping the terror rapidly rising within her.
She looked behind her when she heard a guttural curse and her fear receded even more.
Sir Adam’s men had turned and were running away.
Annys sighed and slowly sat down. When Nicolas halted by her side while the other men continued after her pursuers, she forced a smile for him to try to ease the concern she could see on his face.
“If that look is meant to fool me into thinking ye are fine, it failed.” He crouched down next to her. “Did they hurt ye at all or is this just from the fall?”
“Just the fall,” she replied. “I suspicion I am covered in bruises, have at least one cut, and I have hurt my leg.”
“Broken?”
“Nay, I think not. There wasnae that horrible crack such as I heard once when I broke my arm as a child. Didnae feel the same, either. I am fair sure I just twisted it in a direction it was ne’er meant to go.”
“Ah, I ken what ye mean.” He carefully lifted her up into his arms. “Hurting?” he asked when she winced.
“Everything hurts right now,” she replied, curling her arm around his neck to steady herself. “It has naught to do with ye carrying me. And, I suspicion ’tis far, far less painful to be carried than to try to walk back myself just now.”
“Why were ye outside the walls?”
“Ah, weel, I was following Biddy, the cook’s assistant. She was meeting with one of those men.”
Nicolas muttered a curse. “Weel, she is long gone now. Most like fled with the men.”
“That would have been the clever, sensible thing to do, aye. I believe our Biddy isnae verra clever or sensible. She ran back to the keep the moment she saw me.” Annys almost smiled when there was the slightest falter to his step, revealing his surprise.
“Mayhap she believed ye wouldnae be returning to the keep.”
“That may be so, but I believe there was no true thought behind her actions. She just ran. Mayhap she thought that cowl she wore was enough to hide who she was so that e’en if I did return, I wouldnae ken it had been her I saw.
’Tis clear she forgot I saw her earlier and kenned what she was wearing today. ”
“Ye are right. Nay verra clever our Biddy. As soon as we get ye settled with Joan to tend to your wounds, I will have a wee word with her.”
Annys sighed. “Aye, ye must. I ken it. Just . . .” She frowned, uncertain of what she wanted to say.
“Just what? Dinnae hurt her? Dinnae put her in a cell? She killed David.”
She could hear the anger in his voice and shared it.
Biddy had lived well at Glencullaich. She could claim no mistreatment.
Although there was no proof or confession, Annys also believed that Biddy was the one who had doled out the poison that killed David.
There could be no mercy for that. Yet she had seen how Biddy had fawned over Adam’s man, how he had flattered her and touched her.
His attentions had undoubtedly been false but Biddy had believed in them, Annys was sure of it.
As a woman who was fighting to have her head rule over her heart, she could not completely suppress a twinge of understanding.
Then she thought on all Biddy had cost her.
David had done nothing to deserve the miserable, painful death he had suffered at the woman’s hands.
Benet had certainly not deserved being kidnapped and nearly killed.
Harcourt had done nothing to deserve his wounds.
She had not done anything to deserve two attempts to kidnap her.
The village could have been destroyed and was still doing some repairs.
They had lost sheep, cattle, and crops. Sir Adam wanted her and Benet dead.
Biddy had not given any thought to those crimes and for that she certainly did deserve her punishment.
“Aye, she deserves whate’er punishment is due her,” she said finally as they entered the keep.
Annys found herself hurried off to her bedchamber, Joan barking out orders for all that was needed to tend to her injuries.
Nicolas set her down on the bed and left.
In the brief moment the door was open before it shut behind him she could hear Harcourt bellowing.
A little smile curved her mouth as Joan and two maids arrived to help her.
Harcourt had sounded both furious and afraid.
It raised her hope that it was more than the way the passion flared between them that stirred his interest in her.
“What happened?” Harcourt demanded the moment Nicolas entered the room. “And what took ye so long to get here?”
“I had to put Biddy in a cell,” replied Nicolas, watching as Harcourt carefully sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Lady Annys is naught but a bit bruised so ye dinnae need to leap up and rip out your stitches in some mad rush to get to her side.”
“The stitching is to be taken out tomorrow anyway.”
“Taken out, nay ripped out.”
“Verra weel then. Help me get my clothes back on. This is what happens when a mon lets a woman fuss o’er him.
Come up here like a weel-behaved child to have my stitching peered and poked at and the moment I do, that fool lass goes wandering about outside the safety of these walls.
” He ignored the way Nicolas just grinned as he helped him get dressed.
“What happened to Annys then? All I could hear in here is that she was hurt and almost grabbed by Sir Adam’s men. ”
“Annys was watching Biddy, saw the maid steal some bread, and followed her as she slipped out of the kitchens. Kept following her and saw her meet with Sir Adam’s men.
Then she was seen by the ones she was watching and they gave chase.
That could have ended verra badly as she had gone beyond the sight of the men on the walls.
She proved to be a verra fast runner though, and would have made it back to the keep unharmed save that she tripped on some uneven ground. ”
“She didnae break anything, did she?”
“Nay. Twisted her leg, got a wee bit bruised in the tumble she took, but by then the men on the walls had seen her and were calling out the alarm. Sir Adam’s men ran off. Think one of them was Clyde. A shame we didnae get our hands on him.”
“How did ye catch Biddy? Alive, I pray.”
“Ah, aye, she is alive. It appears Benet’s Roberta probably has more wit than Biddy. She ran back to the kitchens but, as Lady Annys said, the hooded cloak the woman wore wasnae enough to hide who she was. Also m’lady had seen the woman earlier so kenned just what she was wearing.”
“Jesu, are ye telling me that all this trouble was caused by some lack-witted cook’s assistant?” Dressed now, Harcourt stood up and grabbed the walking stick he had reluctantly agreed to use.
Nicolas laughed. “Weel, ye could choose to look at it that way. Nay, she was but the tool and ’tis the one who wields the tool that has the skill.”
“True enough. ’Tis good news to have that weakness ended.” He paused at the door. “It will be hard on the people here when she is judged and punished for the murder of their laird.”
Opening the door for him, Nicolas said, “For her close kin, aye, it will be verra hard indeed. For the rest? I dinnae think so. I was lucky to get her out of that kitchen alive once the women kenned why I was taking her.”
“Poor Nicolas stuck in a kitchen with angry women and a lot of knives. Aye, ye are lucky.”
Harcourt moved as fast as he dared and reached the door to Annys’s bedchamber just as it opened and Joan stepped out. Two young maids slipped around the woman, gave him a brief curtsey, and hurried away. He almost stepped back a little when he saw the anger on the woman’s face.
“Nicolas should have let the women in the kitchens have Biddy,” Joan said before striding off down the hall.
Shaking his head, Harcourt decided Nicolas was right.
There would be few tears shed for Biddy when she met her fate.
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
Annys lay on her bed in her linen night dress, salve smeared on several scrapes and bruises on her arms and legs, and a tightly bandaged ankle and foot resting on top of several cushions.