Page 70 of Anice’s Bargain

23

Anice did not know how she made her way back to her chamber. Her legs were numb and her entire body trembled. She was only half aware of trying to keep silent on her return journey, though her thoughts were surely clattering about loud enough for everyone to hear.

She opened the door and was leapt upon by Piquette, who had not appreciated being left behind, if the scratches gouged deep into the bottom half of the wood door were any indication.

But she did not chide him. She fell to her knees and embraced her beloved dog. The warm fur of his wriggling body and the cold nose rooting about her cheek brought her comfort when she was surrounded by strangers. Especially when the man who should have earned her trust had just delivered the worst betrayal.

Logic flooded back once more. She needed to hurry; to hang her robe, return the shoes to the chest and climb back in bed.

In a flurry of activity, she cleaned up the proof of her clandestine actions, and dropped onto the mattress. No sooner had she pulled the covers up to her chest than the door swept open and James’s heavy footsteps entered the room.

“’Tis just me, lad.” James spoke softly. The same as he’d done with this father.

The memory turned her stomach.

A rustling sound filled the room. “Go on back to sleep, Piquette.”

The dog’s nails clicked over the floorboards and muted against his bed, which he flopped onto with a great sigh. James slid into bed beside Anice and pulled her against him. She did not stir.

He traced a circular pattern over her bare shoulder where her chemise had fallen aside in her haste. Anice had to force herself to lie still rather than jerk her loosened garment back over the exposed skin.

“Mo leannan,” he whispered. His mouth replaced his fingers on her shoulder. Even his lips were cold, his beard prickly as it met her flesh.

Anice squeezed her eyes shut. How could he say such tender things to her when he was planning to assist his father in an attack on Werrick? She pushed past her distress and kept her breathing smooth, as if she were in too deep a sleep to notice his affection.

Within minutes, James’s body relaxed and rolled heavily against hers as sleep claimed him.

Anice, however, had no rest. How could she, when her mind churned with the ache of such treachery? When at last the graying light of dawn showed at the cracks of the shutters, she slipped from the bed, and put on her men’s trews and tunic to join Drake for sword practice. Every morning he was out before the sun rose, going through the motions of battle, training his body to be the perfect knight in the hope that someday he could follow his father’s noble path.

He’d invited her to join him and she had, twice. Now her acceptance of his invitation would serve twofold: to keep her battle skills from getting soft and allow her sufficient privacy for discussion. Piquette did not so much as lift his head as she eased silently from the room. Poor thing was exhausted from the excitement of James and Anice both coming and going throughout the night.

Anice exited from the main door of the castle, already unlocked by the servants who roused ahead of the sun to see to their daily tasks. Silent as a shadow, she slipped her dulled blade from its sheath and sprinted toward Drake.

Though her leather-clad feet were silent on the cobblestones, Drake spun about to face her. He swept his blade up and stopped hers to keep it from slamming into the back of his head. A grin flashed on his face and he dropped into a bow. “Good morrow, my lady.”

“Good morrow, Drake. May I join you?”

He straightened. “’Tis always better to practice with another skilled soldier.” He flipped his blade with his wrist and eased back to allow Anice time to ready herself for the attack.

She tightened her grip on the pommel of her blade. “I am here with purpose, Drake.”

He lifted his own weapon and crouched in preparation for her attack. “I am always at yer service.”

Anice lunged forward and swung her sword. Drake blocked it and they remained face-to-face for a long moment. “The Grahams are planning an attack on Werrick.” She pushed off him.

Drake’s jaw clenched. “Do they know ye know?”

“Nay.” She feinted left, then attacked right.

The blow was swiftly blocked. “When will the attack occur?”

“In a sennight. Though Laird Graham wishes it to be sooner.” Anice pulled a dulled dagger from her belt and jabbed it toward Drake’s ribs.

He deftly avoided the strike. “How did ye learn of this? Did yer husband tell ye?”

Anice faltered, a move that could have easily won Drake the duel. Instead, he cocked his brow and gave her a moment to recover. A man on the battlefield would not give her such chivalrous courtesy.

“I overheard him speaking to his father.” She ran at Drake.