Page 22 of Anice’s Bargain

James frowned at his aging father. Aye, he was sitting up in bed, but his skin was still an unhealthy pallor, the lines around his mouth etched more deeply.

They had once been nearly inseparable, Laird Graham and his only son. And through it all, at least until James’s recovery, they’d fought like fishwives. If only his father could see the world as Lord Bastionbury had presented it; mayhap then his father could make amends prior to his death.

“Are ye feeling unwell still, Da?” James asked, unable to keep the concern from his voice.

Laird Graham waved a hand dismissively. “Nay, lad. I’m fine. But that woman has a bawdy sense of humor that gets a man’s mind going.” He grinned. “I’ve a mind to see what she’s all about.”

James stared at his father. “Isla?”

“The one with the fine white teeth?” Laird Graham nodded emphatically. “Ach, aye. Send her up.” He rubbed his palms like a greedy child.

James gaped at his father, unsure of what to say, but without any intention to summon the aged healer. The idea of them… James grimaced.

“Rest well, Da.” He nodded to his father and quit the room, disgusted not only by his father’s request for Isla, but also by his lack of remorse for the hardships he’d exacted on Werrick Castle.

A cloud of anger hovered over James as guilt nudged into his mind. He wished he had the Earl of Bastionbury’s patience. Were it not for the kindness and exceeding patience of the elderly Englishman, James might never have acknowledged and accepted the idea of a peaceful life.

James, however, lacked such diligence and composure.

Two people rounded the corner, nearly running into James. Anice. And Drake.

The latter churned at James’s ire all the more. The man was too bloody good-looking and might have been mistaken for a lass, were it not for the undeniable bulk of his strength.

“I was coming to inform you supper will be served soon,” Anice said, oblivious of his assessment of the other man. “Thank you for walking me, Drake.”

“Of course, my lady.” The man bowed slightly but lifted his brows at her as he rose. “Think on what I’ve said, aye?”

Anice’s smile did not waver. “Aye, I will. Thank you.”

There was something unspoken between them, and James did not care for it. He’d once been made foolish over an attractive woman. He would not be again.

“I dinna want supper, thank ye.” James shifted directions to go to his room.

“How is your father?” she asked.

He stopped. Piquette ambled toward him and nudged his palm with a cold, wet nose. “He claims the devil isna done with him yet.”

Anice offered a tight smile. Only then did James realize how unwelcome such words might be, when his father was the very devil who had mere hours ago threatened the castle with death.

“I’m no’ like him.” He didn’t know why he said it, why he wanted this woman to like him. But he could not stop staring at her, desperate in his hope for her approval, while he scratched at Piquette’s large head.

“I do not believe you are like him.” She lifted her chin as she said it. Mayhap in an attempt to convince herself. “I bid you a good night and will see you tomorrow for mass.”

“Aye.”

She turned and strode away, her face stony. Piquette flicked a lick at James’s hand and then trotted off after her.

Mass.The announcement of their betrothal would be called there. James found his way to his room without issue, thankfully. But the clench at his gut did not abate. Not when the banns would be read the following day. And while he told himself it would not be as bad as he feared, he knew deep down, it would probably be worse.