Page 68 of Anice’s Bargain

Now though, the vehement reaction held a different perspective. One of jealousy, of wanting. Mayhap for the affection and respect James once held for him, but James was no longer the eager-to-please lad of his youth. Or at least, not as overtly so.

“Aye,” James agreed.

James father gave a wheezing chuckle. “Ye knew I was behind this all along, aye?”

“I was well trained.” James presented the flattery toward his father with a grin.

Laird Graham eagerly accepted the offering. “What do ye hope to gain? I know ye care no’ for plunder.”

“That ye get ye what ye want with one last raid of Werrick, my people vanquish the last bits of reiving from their blood, and ye give me what I want.”

“Yer land and yer peace?” Laird Graham scoffed.

“Yer understanding.” James put his elbow to his knee and leaned forward. “Ye turning to a life of good, while there’s still time to make amends.”

Laird Graham shook his head, his gaze purposefully averted. “Ye know there’s no’ a hope for me, lad.” He released the chair, stepped forward and put a gnarled hand to James’s shoulder, the way he did when James was small enough to have to look up to see him. It’d been a good many years since either of those actions had occurred.

“So, ye’re in then?” James’s father squinted his eyes and got the dogged, intense look he’d possessed when living in his prime. “To betray yer wife and take Werrick Castle.”

James did not flinch outwardly from the question, purposefully worded to dig into any perceived tender spots. He met his father’s gaze with matched determination. “Aye.”

* * *

Anice never had beengood at pretending all was well when it so apparently was not. After James disappeared into the alley, her stomach had begun churning with acid.

She and Drake had stopped at several booths while her fingers danced dispassionately over ware upon ware. She didn’t need a wooden bucket, or twine for dry tinder. Except that she felt compelled to see them all as she waited for James to reemerge.

Her hand stroked over smooth white feathers. “These chickens are lovely,” she said with absentminded attention. Her gaze flicked to the empty alley. How long was James going to be in there?

“Lady Anice, forgive me. I believe they’re dead.” Drake spoke carefully and with his usual chivalric softness, as if not wanting to offend.

Anice jerked her hand back and regarded the befeathered form laid out in a stiff line across the counter of a booth. “So they are.” Her body grew warm with mortification. “Should we bring several home to cook?”

“I believe they already arrive at the castle with efficient regularity, my lady.” Drake lifted his brows to the shopkeeper.

The man nodded. “Aye, Mistress Graham. They were delivered this morning past.”

Anice smiled. “And they are always of good quality. Thank you.”

The shopkeeper gave her a toothy grin from beneath the tangle of his brown beard. “God bless you, Mistress.”

Anice moved on to the next stall and examined several strips of rough leather laid out for purchase.

“My lady.” Drake looked directly at her, his dark eyes reflecting his concern. “What troubles ye?”

Anice glanced toward the empty alley once more and drew Drake from the seller’s stall. “Something is amiss,” she whispered. “Not only with the Grahams, but also with James.”

Drake nodded once. “I’ve noticed as much myself. Thus far, I have no’ been able to uncover what is the source. Forgive me for saying so, but I dinna think it is anything good.”

Anice’s stomach sank as he voiced her own concerns. “I am of a similar mind. Do you presume the people of Carlisle are safe?”

“I will ensure they are.” The resolve in Drake’s voice was meant to convince her, but she did not need it. She knew him well enough after years of their acquaintance.

More than his drive to become the knight his father had been, there was something in him that was moral and just, the kind of man who would lay down his life in the aid of an innocent.

James reappeared in the alley and Anice’s pulse leapt to life. She pulled her arm from Drake’s. “I’ll discover what is afoot.”

“Nay, my lady.” The finality of Drake’s tone stopped her for only a brief pause. “I canna have ye risking yer life.”