Page 12 of Anice’s Bargain

She understood then of what he spoke. The heat of her cheeks stoked to blazing.

He took her hand in his massive one and ran a thumb over her palm. Sunlight streamed in through the open shutters and shone on eyes that were more green than blue. He searched her gaze with those exquisite eyes, and she no longer felt as though she needed to squirm beneath his observation.

“What say ye, Anice?” he asked softly. “Will ye come to me willingly?”

* * *

James’s requesthung in the air, poised between them with a discomfiting tension. Anice gazed boldly at him.

“I will comply as is my duty.” Her tone was neutral and cool, thoughtless to what those words implied. She drew in a breath as one does when they intend to say more, but then did not speak further.

“I will be a good husband to ye.” His voice filled the silence but did nothing to make it less uncomfortable.

“I must take my leave.” She began to turn away.

“A moment.”

She hesitated and fixed her gaze on him once more. Her long-lashed eyes were pale blue and rimmed in a darker shade. Beautiful. Wary. The skin tightened around her eyes.

“I know we are being pushed into this.” James drew the parchment-wrapped parcel from the satchel he carried. “We both have our roles to play. Mayhap we can be allies.”

“Allies?”

He handed her his gift, which she took cautiously. The parchment puckered against her grip and the briny scent of salted venison blossomed into the air. Her nostrils gently flared.

“What is this?” Her voice was soft with breathy hope.

“Consider it a betrothal gift.” Seeing the hunger widen her eyes made James wish he’d pinched more meat from the cook’s tent. “I’ve also sent several men to notify the village of the castle’s need for supplies.”

She clutched the gift to her chest. The slender bones of her hand stood out against her pallid skin. “I haven’t anything for you.”

“Ye needn’t give me anything.”

Her nostrils flared again, no doubt taking in deep breaths of the savory dried meat she clung to. “It doesn’t seem right to not have anything to give in return.” She swallowed and extended the parcel to him.

Footsteps echoed off the stone walls, indicating their time alone was drawing to a close. He shook his head as she tried to return his present. “Give me a secret, then,” he said. “Something ye’ve no’ ever told anyone else.”

She furrowed her brow at his request but drew the meat tight to her thin chest once more.

“No one has ever truly known me.” Her words were rushed, as if she wanted to purge the secret from her lips. The parcel wrinkled in her grip. “I must—I must go.”

The footsteps were closer now. He didn’t stop her this time, but instead watched her thin frame dash down the hall with Piquette following at her side.

Two young women entered the great hall then, hand in hand. They were younger than Anice and shared her golden hair and large blue eyes. Fine dresses of costly fabric hung from their painfully skinny bodies. The women slowed and gazed up at him, the taller one appearing thoughtful in her assessment, while the younger one beamed broadly at him.

“You are James Graham?” the younger asked.

He nodded. “Aye, I am. Are ye Lady Anice’s sisters?”

“We are. This is Ella and I’m Cat. Well, Catriona, really. I would say you could call me Cat, but I suppose Lady Catriona is more proper. Though I would not mind if you called me Cat.” She smiled. “I hear you are to stay with us.”

Her friendliness was unnerving. His clan had been trying to starve the inhabitants of Werrick Castle, but she seemed pleased to be in his presence.

The concerned glance by the older sister, the one Lady Catriona referred to as Lady Ella, was more what James had expected. Wariness. Skepticism. A hint of fear and contempt.

Still, James inclined his head graciously to the sisters. “Well met.”

“My sister trusts too readily.” Ella stepped in front of the other girl. “I, however, have questions regarding your motivation. Why was it you laid so long a siege upon us? Was this what you wanted? A marriage to a daughter of the Earl of Werrick, Warden of the English West March?”

James frowned. “I have never been in favor of this siege.”

“You were there regardless though.” She gave an inquisitive tilt of her head. “Why?”

In that moment, he might have mentioned his attempt to save a lad in one of their raids and how it had changed his life, or his many conversations to sway his father to a life of good, or his own aspirations to see his people living a life of honesty. However, the young woman did not seem one to indulge another’s contrition.

Her lip lifted with censure, an indication he had paused for too long. “Your silence is reply enough.” She gazed up at him once more, unabashed in her study of him, then caught her sister by the shoulders and swept them both from the room.

Dear God, this was going to be an interminable stretch of time. Perhaps even greater than when he’d thought he would die in that raid. Then again, at least death would have ended his suffering. As it was now, there was no hope for reprieve.

His grating exhale echoed off the stone walls and empty floors. His father had backed him into a corner, forcing him with a woman who did not appear to want to marry him, sisters who resented his presence here, and an earl who no doubt would gladly kill James rather than see him marry Anice.

And worst of all, James did not fault them, for he knew his own sins, and they were truly great.