Page 51 of Come the Morning

His face was stone hard, impassive. Then he bowed his head. “If she doesn’t come soon, we’ll have to leave.”

“Oh, God, no, Anne is the one who made it possible for you to free me—”

“And you kept Anne from being discovered behind the tapestries,” Daro said impatiently. He smiled as she stared at him. “Anne told me so,” he explained. “If I leave here with you, I have regained some dignity. I have a right to a say in your life, while perhaps it’s true that I have no right to Anne.”

“Daro—”

“Mellyora, I’m going for the horses, cloaks, and helmets. Keep a sharp eye out for Anne. We have but one opportunity to escape.”

“Aye, and we must escape now,” she murmured. They had already fled Waryk’s chambers, they were together, and on their way to the Viking camp.

Aye, they had to escape.

Escape, or die the death of traitors.

During the day, Waryk would never have noticed Anne MacInnish’s behavior. He knew Anne, though not well, because she was distant kin to Michael MacInnish, the border laird on the spit of land where so many had been slaughtered by Lord Renfrew’s greedy quest for greater gain. She had grown into a lovely young woman with large, doelike hazel eyes and chestnut hair, a lithe figure, and a talent for warmth and laughter. Tonight, however, she was behaving strangely, hurrying down the corridor with her head lowered and hands folded. Her eyes darted nervously side to side every few steps, as if she were certain she was being followed. He leaned against the wall, into the shadows, as he watched her approach.

It was ridiculously late—or far too early—for her to be up and about. And moving so furtively. He was both curious, and worried about the young woman, kin to his friend. And he was not anxious to return to his own chambers too quickly; he hadkept his distance from Mellyora, but now it was time to explain to her that the king meant to have her disinherited if she didn’t obey his orders.

He couldn’t have her waiting in his chambers for two weeks, not unless he found somewhere else to sleep. He had mocked her, but was the one now paying a price. She was far too provocative, and he meant to keep his distance until he was certain that any child created within her would be his own. With Angus on guard, she was safe. From all men, he thought, including himself.

Indeed, the castle at Stirling was a safe place, yet it seemed that Anne was furtive, as if she was afraid. As she neared him, he stepped out of the shadows, politely accosting her.

“Anne.”

She stopped dead, staring at him, her face parchment white.

“L—Laird Lion!”

“What are you doing out at this late hour?” Seeing a lover? It seemed the only feasible answer. She had always been a sweet, gentle young woman, but her family had sometimes treated her harshly due to the circumstances of her birth.

“I’m—I’m returning to my chambers.”

“From?”

“From … visiting with a sick friend.” She was lying, and she didn’t lie well.

“At this hour?” he queried.

She lowered her head, then looked up at him. “I may not have much time left for the freedom to visit anyone at any time. Padraic has determined that I’m to be given to the Church.”

She had definitely been seeing a lover, and, from the tone of her voice, he thought she had been seeing someone who meant a great deal to her. Young women were prone to fall in and out of love, and most often, inappropriately.

“You do not feel a religious vocation?”

“Nay, I do not,” she said simply. “I wish to wed.”

“Have you said this to your uncle?”

The white left her cheeks; color flooded them. She lowered her head again. “He thinks my father’s blood has created something of a wanton out of me. If I enter a nunnery, I help purge the sins of the Vikings against the Church in this country.”

“Men sin against other men, mostly, so it seems, and a man who was not a Christian and didn’t understand the meaning could not have been said to sin against the Catholic Church.”

Anne gasped. “Laird Lion! That is all but blasphemy.”

“I am not being blasphemous, Anne. I was raised in the Church. And many Vikings converted to Christianity; if your father had lived, he would have done so. But he was slain, and you should not be left to pay for his sins, real or imagined.”

Her eyes were very bright on his, a glimmer of hope within them. “If you were to say such things to my family, they would listen. If only I could speak so to my uncle, make him understand … if only someone were to speak with Michael, since he is the head of the family. But he fights these days, and does little else, and he has left my future to Padraic. But he admires you so, if only …”