Chapter Five
Brodick rose before the sun. He huffed as he got to his feet, his expression disgruntled. With one hooded-eye look, the earl walked away to rub the neck of his horse.
“That cloak is too bulky for riding.” Druce held out a hand for it.
Surrendering the garment took courage because the morning was chilly. But the Scotsman was correct. If she tried to sit side-saddle on the mare with the fabric beneath her hip, she’d likely land on the trail in a heap.
“Here, lass. You have thin blood.” Cullen draped a thick surcoat over her shoulders, pausing to wink at her. “We only left your trunk behind, nae your clothing. It’s all tied to the back of one of the mares.”
Anne fingered the surcoat, grateful for its warmth.
With deep slits up the sides, it allowed for riding while wearing it.
It was wool, edged in true velvet. The expensive fabric was neatly sewn around the openings to the arms and where the front closed.
Carefully knotted silk cord frogs ran down the front of the loose gown.
She noticed a loose thread and plucked it free.
Staring at it, she looked down the front of the coat to see others sticking up.
All were evenly spaced, denoting where pearls had been placed.
Mary must have spent several hours removing the pearl beads from the clothing that had been sent with Anne.
All of her court-loving sibling’s garments were embellished with pearls, gold, and even some gems.
Cullen had rejoined the men, their voices gaining volume as the sun rose. Clutching the surcoat close, she enjoyed its warmth. Even if the pearls had been removed, it was a fine garment, thick and sturdy.
The black steed was missing. Lifting her chin, she scanned the trail, searching for the earl. There was something very comforting in keeping the man in sight. She found him sitting much further up the slope, his eyes on the horizon.
“Will ye stop undressing the man with yer eyes, lass? I’m becoming jealous.”
Cullen led her mare to her, his voice full of mockery.
“I am not…” The idea of undressing Brodick got stuck in her throat.
“Nae what?” Cullen smirked at her.
“I simply am not.” Reaching for the saddle horn, she lifted her foot and lodged it in the stirrup. A hard hand pushed her up, square on her bottom, making her gasp.
Cullen wasn’t repentant a bit when she cast a disgruntled look at him from atop the horse. He tugged on the corner of his knitted hat.
“You’re welcome.”
He swatted her mare on the flank and she took to the trail.
The mare eagerly climbed toward the earl, as the rest of his men mounted.
They surrounded her, keeping her mare between them, Brodick watching from his position above them.
As they drew closer, she thought she noticed a satisfied smile on his lips, but he turned, showing her his broad back before she decided.
“Sterling.” Brodick’s voice echoed in the early morning as his hand rose, the fingers clenched tight in a fist.
“Sterling,” his men answered, their cheer almost deafening.
Even the horses appeared to catch on to the enthusiasm of their riders, picking up their hooves faster.
A flicker of excitement surprised her, washing through her as she looked up at the back of the earl.
His men followed him happily and without fear.
It was a stark contrast to the years she’d served Lady Philipa.
Every servant under her spoke against the lady when they were below floors.
She hadn’t truly realized just how bleak Warwickshire was until she saw the opposite displayed by Brodick’s men.
For a brief moment, Anne allowed herself to enjoy the tide of contentment.
But she couldn’t take solace in it too long.
Her position was not going to improve once they arrived at Sterling.
It was only going to become harder to avoid Brodick and his expectations.
A little ripple of guilt hit her. She didn’t want to disappoint him.
Shocked by her own emotions, Anne tried to resign herself to following her plans.
Postponing the consummation was critical to her survival.
Yet a flicker of passion flared up as she considered Brodick’s back. His hair was slightly curled, and long enough to brush the top of his shoulders. His shirt was tied up at the shoulders, displaying the hard cut of muscle along his arms. Her memory offered up exactly how good that strength felt.
Pandora’s box…
Tension pooled in her belly as she recalled how his kiss had awakened her flesh. It made her bold, those kisses. The sort that sent good women down a road paved with disgrace. With a shake of her head, she chewed on her lower lip, trying to concoct some reason to delay the inspection.
There had to be a way…she just had yet to think of it.
Warwickshire
Ivy Copper hugged Bonnie tighter than normal.
“Mother, is something wrong?”
Cupping Bonnie’s fair cheeks in her hands, Ivy smiled. “No, sweet, I am just a mother and we always see our children as babes.”
Bonnie gave her another hug before dancing off across the chamber. “I must go or be late. We are weaving today. No more spinning or carding wool.”
Ivy waved her towards her duty, waiting until she heard Bonnie’s steps diminish before allowing her guard to drop and worry lines to appear on her face.
Anne was gone from the castle.
Worry filled her as she began to pace. None of her children had ever left Warwickshire.
Perhaps she was foolish to let it unsettle her, for the young often traveled, but she could not stop her mind from turning and twisting.
She feared that something was amiss even though her common sense told her that she was only enduring a mother’s grief.
She wished the earl were in residence.
At least that thought brought a measure of calm to her.
She always wished that Henry was near. How could she not?
She loved him too much. Yet she was not alone in that insanity.
Henry adored her and had always treated her well, far better than most lemans.
He had never strayed from her side even when her belly was swollen, even now that the years were passing too quickly.
Love…
It was their gift.
Everything would be well. Even if Philipa had taken Anne to town with her and Mary, there was nothing amiss. Henry’s wife might harbor meanness toward them but she would not risk the anger of her husband by doing anything that was truly evil.
Anne would return in the summer, and she would hug Bonnie tighter each day until her family was reunited.
That was a mother’s path.
Sterling
Sterling rose up from a hillside. Its towers were great polished round structures, each one six feet wide and three stories high.
There were five of them, spaced out in a line.
Behind them was a drop-off that protected the back of the castle from invaders.
Thick walls connected the towers, the blue and gold standard of the McJames flying from it.
The men sent out a cheer as the distant sound of bells drifted with the afternoon breeze.
There were two gates set into the stone walls.
That was a curiosity, since castles were constructed to withstand sieges.
Having two gates meant you needed twice the men to protect the weakest spot.
Villagers began appearing from their homes.
They called out to the men, cheerfully welcoming them home.
The fields were still only carefully turned plots of earth, but the sun was warm on her face, hinting at springtime.
The villagers’ homes dotted the land around the castle, telling her that Sterling was a productive land.
In another few weeks there would be work aplenty for everyone as planting began.
For now, the villagers emerged from their homes where they spent the winter months working with leather and cloth, producing goods that might be traded or sold.
Brodick headed for the north gate, his men close on his heels.
But he did not ride through the huge opening.
He turned and caught her in his sight. There was a chuckle from the men in front of her before he kneed his mount.
The black beast surged toward her, a magnificent display of power.
Brodick fit with the picture, every bit as strong—master and steed were well suited.
He pulled the horse to a stop only inches from her, reaching out to grab the reins of her mare.
He controlled the nervous sidesteps of her horse, keeping the bridle down until the mare stopped prancing.
A wicked gleam twinkled in his eyes as he released the reins.
He stood up in the stirrups and leaned over.
A hard hand hooked her around her waist before he pulled her across the space between the horses.
She clutched at his hard shoulders, desperate to avoid falling. His men laughed, their voices hearty.
Brodick laughed as well, but his voice was deeper and right next to her ear as he settled her in front of him.
His arm clasped her to his body, securing her tightly.
Her body became alive with all sorts of tiny impulses.
Each breath drew his scent into her head.
She’d never noticed that men smelled different or that she might have a preference for one in particular.
A little wave of enjoyment went through her as she drew in the warm scent of his male skin.
“What are you doing, my lord?”
He leaned down until she felt his breath against her ear. Gooseflesh spread down her neck and beneath her stays in response.
“Practicing a few of my own traditions. The McJames brings his wife into the castle for the first time.” His fingers spread wide, covering her belly. “Mind you, the situation hasnae always been this…civilized.”