Chapter Fifteen
Annys stared out the window at all the activity in the bailey.
She had taken a seat on the cushioned bench to gain the best light for her sewing only to have her attention caught firmly by what was going on outside.
The preparations for battle were now obvious, far more so than they had been when Harcourt was just seeing to the strengthening of the defenses already in place.
Her heart ached as she watched her people work.
This was not what she wanted for them, for herself, or for her child.
What had always made Glencullaich such a beautiful place had been its peace.
Sir Adam had shattered that with his greed.
The cat she had rescued jumped up on the bench, pushing its head into her hand. Annys smiled and scratched its ears, pleased with the diversion. The animal refused to stay in the stables and she did not have the heart to chase it away every time it sought her out.
“There is a dark cloud o’er Glencullaich, Roban,” she said, the animal’s loud purr comforting her for the moment. “It has a name, too. Sir Adam the Bastard.”
“Are ye actually talking to that cat?”
Annys ignored the tingle of a blush on her cheeks and smiled at Harcourt. “Aye, and Roban is a verra good listener.”
It was absurd but he had to acknowledge that there was a territorial battle going on between him and the cat.
This very morning he had woken up, begun to pull Annys closer so that he could kiss her awake, and found himself staring into the cat’s eyes.
Shaking off an odd unease over being watched, he had bent his head to place his lips on hers only to have the cat place one surprisingly large paw right over her mouth.
He knew people would think he was mad if he said so, but Harcourt knew that was when the battle lines were drawn.
“It was in the bed this morning.”
“I ken it but I am certain he is verra clean. I just dinnae ken how he keeps getting inside the room.”
And now it was he. Harcourt inwardly shook his head.
The women in his family always did the same, naming the animal first, and then calling it he or she and treating the animal as if it were a part of the family.
Harcourt could see the same path being walked here.
Then he told himself that, if his brother Brett could deal with little Ella’s cat Clyde, which snarled at him all the time, he could learn to deal with Roban.
“Slips inside when it thinks no one is watching it, just waits for someone to open the door.”
She nodded. “I suspicion that is just what he does. Cats can be verra quick. So, tell me, how does the work progress?”
“It goes weel.” He sat down next to her, ignoring the way the cat glared at him from the other side of her.
“I wish I could tell ye that this is all but a waste of time, that there will be no battle.” He took her hand in his and kissed her palm.
“I cannae. It would be a lie and I willnae lie to you, nay e’en to put ye at ease.
I believe naught short of that fool’s death will stop it.
Sadly, we cannae find the lackwit so that we might test the truth of that. ”
“Ye have been looking for him?”
“Aye, but cautiously. ’Tis nay verra safe for any of us to be far from these walls without a large, weel-armed force at our side. The woods fair crawl with Sir Adam’s men.” He smiled. “And a few MacFingals. Those lads have lessened Sir Adam’s army by a wee bit.”
“They go out there e’en though ye believe it isnae safe?”
“MacFingals do what they please. They also do some things with an enviable skill the clan has become renowned for. One of those things is slipping out, creeping up on an enemy unseen, and winnowing away at its strength.”
“By killing them.” She shivered, the cold, brutal reality of what they were all being forced into hitting her hard.
“There may nay have been any formal declaration, any call to arms, but this is war, Annys.”
It was easy to see how that cruel truth was upsetting her.
Harcourt knew she was too sharp-witted to have not seen exactly where the trouble with Sir Adam had always been headed.
Even those who had not lived the quiet, peaceful life she had at Glencullaich could grow unsteady when the time came where no choices were left to pick from, when the army was actually at the gates and all they had ever cared about was at risk.
Hope for a better outcome could be a stubborn thing, he thought as he put his arm around her.
“I ken it,” Annys said as she leaned against him.
“I have kenned it from the start, or, mayhap I should say, have feared it from the start of all the trouble. After all, I was ne’er going to give Sir Adam what he wanted, was I?
What allies I might turn to are ne’er going to interfere in what they would see as a familial argument over an inheritance.
E’en Adam’s own kin willnae stop him for, in their hearts, they want him to succeed.
Glencullaich has always been the jewel of the family’s holdings.
The greed for what it has was always there. ”
She looked at him. “There were times when I thought David was wrong to give his kin so much, as if he owed some tithing to them just for sitting in the laird’s chair. I cannae help but think that he was feeding their addle-brained belief that they deserved this place, nay him.”
“That is verra possible. He was doing what he needed to do to keep the peace and they saw only weakness.” He kissed her cheek, ignoring the way the cat moved to sit on her lap. “David did the right thing. He wasnae a warrior; he was a scholar. He could fight but he was ne’er one who wanted to.”
“Ye want to?” she asked, doing nothing to hide her disbelief.
“Nay, not truly. If Sir Adam came to offer a truce, I would be willing to hear him out. But, I willnae say I dinnae feel a wee bit of, weel, anticipation. ’Tis the nature of a mon.”
“But he willnae come forward with any offer of a truce.”
“Nay. He is determined to claim this place, so determined he doesnae care how much blood he needs to spill or how much of it has to be destroyed to get what he wants. Nay, I dinnae want to fight, but I do want verra badly to make certain Sir Adam MacQueen doesnae win.”
Harcourt leaned down to kiss her, pulling her closer as he brushed his lips over hers, immediately getting the taste for more.
Before he could deepen the kiss, however, something moved between them.
He pulled back just enough to look down at the cat now sitting on her lap between them.
A quick look at Annys revealed her placing a hand over her mouth, her eyes alight with the laughter she tried to hold back.
“I think he may be jealous,” she choked out and started to giggle.
Under better circumstances Harcourt would have shared her amusement.
He loved the sound of her laughter, an innocent, musical sound that begged anyone who heard it to share in her joy.
Being denied the kiss he was craving made the situation a lot less amusing for him, even though her laughter made him smile. He narrowed his eyes at the cat.
“It should be in the stables,” he said and watched the cat’s ears flatten.
“Which is where he is constantly put,” she said as she gently picked up the cat, scratched its ears, and then set it down on the other side of her. “Yet he always finds me.”
“My brother’s wife has a wee girl who has a cat named Clyde and he always finds her as weel.”
Annys thought Harcourt spoke as if that was the worst fate to ever befall his brother, but decided not to tease him about it. “’Tis verra like a dog, isnae it?”
Harcourt did not think the world needed such an oddity, but said nothing, simply stole a brief kiss from Annys and stood up. “I must get back to work. When I saw ye watching out the window here I but thought to see if ye had anything to say about what ye were seeing, about what we are doing?”
“If ye think I have any advice, I fear I must disappoint you. All I ken about battle is that women best be ready to tend wounds or, if the need demands, grab the bairns and run.”
“And from all I have seen ye have prepared admirably for both needs though I will pray that ye dinnae have to meet either of them.”
Annys stood to watch him leave and heartily cursed Sir Adam MacQueen.
She was weighted down with guilt for having pulled Harcourt and his friends into this.
She could claim she had never forseen the risks he would have to take, but that was only partly true.
The danger Sir Adam had presented had been clear enough that she had sent for Harcourt.
Despite that, she had never truly felt she was placing the man in a dangerous position.
“That was some harsh language,” said Joan as she walked into the room carrying a stack of linens in her arms.
“I just realized that I may have been lack-witted enough to think that just having a few seasoned knights here might be enough to discourage Sir Adam.” Annys waved her hand toward the solar window she had been looking out of. “That was nay what I had envisioned when I sent for Sir Harcourt.”
“Weel, I did a lot of praying for Sir Adam to be struck down by lightning or smashed by a falling drawbridge or trampled by a horse. . . .” She winked at Annys when she laughed. “I decided God would forgive me for such prayers as Sir Adam means us harm and I am nay good with a sword.”
“I am nay sure but I think ye may be nudging blasphemy.”