Page 21 of Anice’s Bargain

“Mayhap I speak with the men and ye see to the lasses.” James nodded toward a woman approaching them.

Anice slipped several bags of the tea from the basket and made her way to the woman as two more men entered. James’s attempts to offer the packs of herbs went without receipt; the men opted for the embarrassment of their irritated stomachs with Anice over acceptance from the enemy. It did not escape her notice that James even attempted to sit at a table, minimizing his intimidating height. Still no one approached.

Anice’s vassals did not appear to be as accepting of the large reiver as were Piquette and Leila.

“James can assist you, if need be.” Anice smiled pleasantly at several people waiting for their turn to get their tea from her. The people remained in place.

Not that she could blame them for their suspicions. She harbored them herself. James had been kind, and Leila seemed to trust him, but he was still a Graham.

Regardless, only good would come of him getting to know her people better.

She made her way to James’s side and set her hand to his massive shoulder in a public show of solidarity. The people were forced to approach them both. Except instead of handing the packet to the sufferers directly, she delivered the instructions and allowed James to pass out the herbs.

Werrick’s young priest, Bernard, stepped forward when it was his turn, and cast a helpless gaze at Anice, with more nervousness than the twitchy man usually exhibited. Sweat shone on his bald head and beaded on his upper lip. He licked his lips and stayed back a step more than anyone else. But then, it was no secret the man was deathly afraid of reivers.

An unholy rumbling sounded from his bowels. He clenched his teeth and clapped a hand over his stomach. “My stomach.”

Isla ambled into the room. Her stare settled on Bernard and a smile stretched over her face. “Ate too much, did ye, Priest?”

His eyes bulged. With a trembling hand, he made the sign of the cross and muttered a prayer to himself, the bag of herbs held stiffly between his fingers. “This came from the witch?” He nodded toward Isla.

She folded her arms over her chest, an unctuous gleam in her eyes. “Aye, of course. Where else would it have come from?”

He pushed his hand to Anice’s and unfurled his sweaty fist, so the damp bag fell into her palm.

“I shall be fine on my own.” He swallowed thickly and staggered from the room.

Isla cackled, bending her bony body in half with the force of her mirth. “Do ye see where his stubbornness will get him?” She tsked gently, a smile still in place. “Too bloody high and mighty for his own good.”

“My da?” James asked.

Isla took the basket from Anice and waved her hand dismissively. “Ach, the man is fine. Just having a bout of weak chest. He’s as beastly as I imagine he always has been and is waiting to see ye.”

Anice breathed a discreet sigh of relief. The old laird would live. She realized that meant her fate would remain strapped to James, but it also meant her people would remain safe from an attack. At least for now.

* * *

Handingout the herbs had been a difficult feat. At least to James. Beneath their tunics and kirtles, many of the people were skeletal. Not only men and women, but children too, their eyes overlarge in their skinny faces. They’d been so starved that the bit of food had left them ill.

James had been hungry in his life. Who hadn’t? But never to that level of depravation.

His heart clenched. As much as he did not want this wedding, as much as he had his reservations of marrying a woman of Anice’s beauty, he was glad for the decision. If marrying would save these people, he would gladly fulfill his side of the agreement.

He opened the door to his father’s room, expecting to see the old man withering in his bed. Instead his father was sitting upright and drinking tea, his gaze bright and alert.

“Dinna get yer hopes up, lad.” He winked at James. “The devil isna done with me yet.” He drained his cup and held it out for James to collect. “Where have ye been? Off wi’ that bonny lass of yers? Or discovering the new fortune I got ye?”

“I’ve been handing out herbs.” James ignored his father’s action. “The ones whose stomachs were so weak, they canna take the simple bit of bread, meat and cheese they’re receiving.”

Laird Graham waved the cup in the air in silent demand for James to take it. “Ach, they’ll be fine. Nay doubt finer than if ye’d said ‘nay’ to wed the lass.” He laughed at his own macabre joke and broke off in a feeble wheeze.

“These are people’s lives, Da. Lives ye almost took without care.” James still ignored the damned cup.

Laird Graham shrugged. “I dinna know these people. I know we’ve been starving for years and they’ve no’ ever come to our aid. I know they have enough coin to afford fine clothes and costly horses, while we dinna even have a home to call our own. They’ve had everything, and for the first time in their lives, they’ve had to struggle. I canna feel bad for their loss.” He tossed the mug and sent it flipping toward the floor.

James lunged forward and caught it with his fingertips, a mere second before it could smash on the fine wooden floor. His ire flared up. “Ye talk about a life of struggle, and I’m offering ye an alternative, one where we dinna have to steal and hurt others, and ye dinna seem to care.”

“I’m too old to care,” the old laird said in a petulant tone. “But ye’ve got yer opportunity to change the lot of the Grahams. Thanks to me.” Laird Graham grinned. “Off wi’ ye now. Go look at the advantage I’m giving ye, one I dinna ever have. And while ye’re about, see if ye can find that healer again.”