Page 6 of Anice’s Bargain

“Aye, but yer beast canna relay the message to yer husband.” James’s father said. “The dog stays, and we will meet ye tomorrow when the sun goes down.”

She was silent so long, James thought she might refuse. Her head bowed toward the great beast and the soft breathy notes of indiscernible whispers rose from her whispered words to her dog. When she lifted her head, her eyes held a glossy sheen. She drew in a deep breath and rose. “Not when the sun goes down. You will meet us at noon.”

James almost laughed at her brazen demand.

“If we can come to agreeable terms,” she continued, “then your men can begin leaving the castle grounds. And my dog will be returned to me.” She lifted her chin with the authority of her esteemed position.

“Noon,” the laird declared. “And the beast stays, or ye’ll all die in those walls.”

The countess’ eyes met James’s. “If you harm him, I will kill you.” For all her prettiness, there was an edge to her tone that told him she would make good on her threat or die trying.

The laird scoffed and nodded to the tent flap. “Take this wench back to her husband.”

“Piquette walks with us,” she said.

James’s father waved his hand dismissively, decidedly done with the whole mess.

The countess regarded James with her long-lashed blue eyes before turning on her heel toward the tent flap. There had been something in the way she’d looked at him—a fearlessness, almost a challenge. This was no woman to easily tamp down. Piquette trotted after his mistress, the beast’s shoulders jutting up like bony sticks from his haunches.

James followed after her and put himself at her unoccupied side. “Yer dog could use a good meal.”

When she did not answer, he glanced down at her. The moonlight hit her just so and shadowed the hollows in her collarbones and cheeks. She was nearly starving herself. No doubt she tried to feed Piquette as well as was possible, given their limited means.

Disgust coiled low in James’s belly. He hated being part of this life, scraping people’s misery for their own gain.

“I’ll see he is fed well,” James offered.

The countess stopped and she regarded him with a large-eyed hope that bore into his soul. It gave him a glimpse of the hurt she’d suffered during this siege, of the desperation leading her to make this great sacrifice of leaving behind a beloved pet. She looked away abruptly and strode onward, severing the connection.

“That would be good of you.” She spoke softly, the charged defiance in her tone softened by evident gratitude.

The shift in her demeanor was that of a woman made hard only through circumstance, a woman who might be entirely different under another situation. And though he had thoroughly learned his lesson when it came to alluring women, he could not help the stir of sympathy.

He leaned slightly closer to speak, to ensure they could not be heard by the tents falling away behind them. “I could get food for ye as well if ye like.”

Her breath caught. But she swallowed and shook her head. “Nay but thank you. I ask only that you care for Piquette. He is dear to me.”

James put up a hand to still their forward progress. Several arrows jutted from the ground a few feet in front of them, marking where the range of arrows could not strike them. He waved his hands and shouted out to the English soldiers along the castle wall to get their attention. “Yer countess wishes to return to the castle,” he called. “Dinna shoot.”

Atop the battlements of Werrick, the archers lowered their bows. The countess knelt beside her dog and wrapped her arms around the great beast. Piquette’s high-pitched whines rose to James, as though he understood the transaction.

“I promise ye I’ll give him the greatest care.” James spoke as the countess rose, before she could issue any more of her ready threats.

Except there were no threats on her tongue. But there were tears in her eyes, gleaming and unabashed in her regret at leaving her beloved beast.

“I anticipate his safe return.” She turned away with great hesitation and made her way to the castle. While she strode forward, she glanced over her shoulders several times like an anxious mother leaving a child.

Piquette whimpered again and shifted his position, restless with unease. On several occasions, he tried to follow, but each time Anice put up a hand to still him and he settled beside James once more.

“Dinna worry.” James reached out to the dog and rubbed his hand over the large brown head.

The dog eyed him with a wariness a few strips of venison would doubtless ease. Ahead, the countess waited at the great gates as they opened to her.

For her sake, and for that of her people, he hoped an agreement could be reached between the Earl of Werrick and Laird Graham.

Especially as James’s father’s negotiations did not come cheap.