Chapter 32
Chapter 32
“Anna ... Anna MacIver?” Lachann asked, astonished by Alex’s words, though he should not have been. His Anna was as noble as any grand lady he’d ever heard of.
Alex nodded. “Aye, Laird.”
Lachann stood. “Where is she now?”
“I’m not sure, Laird. I have not seen her in some time.”
“Alex, will you see to supper for our guests?” Lachann looked at Leirvik. “Please, make yourselves comfortable here. I will find Anna and bring her to you.”
Gesu. Betrothal plans? Lachann wondered if the bridegroom was to be the strapping young fellow who’d spoken those words of sympathy to Leirvik.
Well, Lachann was not about to give her up, even if she happened to be related to the noblest family in all of Norway. Anna belonged on Kilgorra. She belonged to him.
And yet Lachann knew he had to give her a choice. She had come to Kilgorra with her mother, and somehow the MacDuffies had seen to it that everything had been taken away from her, even her name.
He went down the steps to the kitchen and out the door, hoping he would find her at the small cottage behind the gardens, where he’d first known he would never love another.
Anna found that she was trembling.
All these years, she’d hoped for a way to leave the isle, and now that her escape was nigh, she felt anxious and worried, and more than a bit upset at the thought of leaving Lachann.
Maybe she should trust him, as Kyla suggested. He was nothing like Cullen Macauley, who would have seduced her—used her. No, Lachann had taken great care with her. He’d made gentle love to her, and Anna had felt cherished for the first time in her life, and by the man she loved.
She felt certain the Norse ship had come for her—or perhaps for her mother, for ’twas doubtful her mother’s family had learned of her demise. What would they think of Anna? How would they react when they discovered she was naught but a servant here?
What would she do when she met them? Go? Or stay?
Wearing her mother’s fine clothes, she left the cottage and started down the path toward the keep, only to be stopped by the shrill voice of her stepsister.
“Where do you think you’re going, Anna MacIver?” Catrìona stood blocking the path, her face a mask of utter hatred. “And where did you get that gown?”
“ ’Twas my mother’s, Catrìona,” Anna said quietly. “Please let me pass.”
“You think it looks well on you?” Catrìona said without moving. “ ’Tis an ugly rag. As ugly as your mother was.”
Anna decided to ignore her. She continued on, moving to slip past Catrìona, but her stepsister grabbed her sleeve, tearing it a bit at the shoulder.
“Let go,” Anna said. She would not allow Catrìona to ruin this moment.
“If you think I’m going to let you go off with those Norsemen, you are mistaken,” Catrìona growled. “ ’Tis I who wish to leave, and I will!”
“Oh Catrìona, leave if you must, but please allow me—”
“Catrìona!” Lachann called out with the tone of command as he dashed toward them. “Leave her be!”
Anna tried to pull away, but Catrìona held tight. “He was mine!” she cried viciously and pushed Anna down into the flower bed next to the path. “You want her?” she shouted at Lachann. “Take her.”
Lachann grabbed Catrìona’s arm and pulled her away from Anna. Catrìona burst into tears and ran past them, toward the chapel.
Lachann reached down to Anna and pulled her to her feet. “Are you all right?”
Anna nodded, and a wee spark of hope took root in her heart. As Lachann looked her over, she felt mortified—for her own shaky demeanor as well as Catrìona’s mean outburst. She wished she could just run back to the cottage and pretend she had not been so soundly humiliated.
“Anna ... A ship has come ... Norsemen,” he said. His tone was suddenly formal, distant. So very different from when they’d lain together. “They are your kin.”
“M-my ...”
“Aye. You are Annbj?rg, Lady Sigrid’s daughter,” he said, frowning. “You never said ...”
Anna felt tears welling in her eyes, and she wiped them away. “ ’Tis been so long since anyone has called me Annbj?rg, I ... I hardly remembered my true name.”
“So you know, then. The ship has come for you.”
She looked into his eyes, but the expression in them was unreadable. He said naught about Catrìona, about Father Herriot, or anything that had happened since the incident with Cullen Macauley in the close.
He took her hand, and with some formality placed it in the crook of his arm, then escorted her in silence back to the keep. They entered through one of the main doors—not the servants’ entrance near the kitchen.
Anna’s heart was in her throat. She felt that at any moment, Catrìona would return and pull some evil trick on her, then force her back to the kitchen. Or shame her some other way in front of her Norse kin.
Lachann took her into the laird’s sitting room, where four beautifully garbed men stood when she entered. The eldest, a man with a white beard, approached her, his expression stunned. He looked ’round at his companions. “She is ... exactly Sigrid.”
“I am Anna, sir,” she said, containing her nervousness. “My mother was Sigrid.”
“Ah, yes,” the man said. He looked at Lachann, who released her. The Norseman took both her hands in his, then kissed her cheeks, one after the other. And when he spoke, his voice shook with emotion. “Annbj?rg.”
“Aye. ’Twas the name my mother gave me,” she said shakily. “But I am Anna now.”
“I am the Count of Leirvik, Sigrid’s brother—your uncle. We came with the hope of finding my sister ... And you,” he said. “And of taking you home, to marry.”
Anna felt the breath leave her lungs. “To ... to marry?”
“Aye.” He indicated the handsome young man who stood beside him. “Lars Frederickson is my wife’s nephew—a prince—and he will make you a fine husband.”
As young Lars bowed in Anna’s direction, she glanced at Lachann, who stood immobile, looking at ... well, at nothing, until Alex came in and announced that a meal had been laid on the table in the great hall.
Leirvik offered his arm, and Anna took it as they went into the hall. “You must tell me all you remember of your mother, my dear.”
Anna presided over the meal with a quiet dignity suitable for the lady of Kilgorra. Lachann learned a few more details of her early life and surmised the details she left out.
And now everything would change for her. Catrìona and her father had turned Anna into a servant, obviously after the death of her mother. Lachann had seen the way Catrìona treated her, though he’d not been able to understand the animosity she felt toward Anna. What could the woman possibly complain of, when Anna went about her chores efficiently, and without the slightest objection?
Gesu. ’Twas no wonder Anna had said she would leave Kilgorra if given the chance. Why wouldn’t she go with Leirvik now?
The Norseman spoke of his homeland, of the lavish house and all the amenities Anna would enjoy when she traveled to her mother’s home with him. She would be treated as royalty, and her status would only improve when she wed Lars.
If she stayed on Kilgorra, her lot would change significantly, but there would be no horses and carriages, no society to speak of, and no culture beyond what she’d lived with all her life.
Aye, Lachann was a wealthy man, and he intended to make improvements on the island, but he could not compete with what Count Leirvik had to offer.