Page 72 of Anice’s Bargain

Those questions and so many more crowded in James’s mind, leaving room for little else. Surely, there had to be a way to stop this without fighting.

Laird Graham was already sitting when James approached the raised table, in the seat directly beside James’s.

“Ye may get the whole of my meal this morning,” he muttered to Piquette.

Laird Graham gave him a seedy smirk and kicked out the chair meant for James in silent invitation.

“I dinna need yer permission to sit where I like,” James said in a surly tone.

“Ach, so then ye already knew.” His father tsked softly. “And here I was hoping I’d get to be the one to tell ye.”

James grabbed a roll from the wooden platter in front of him and cut off a chunk of ham. He tossed the ham to Piquette, who had settled like a sleeping bear beneath the table. The meat disappeared without ever hitting the floor.

“About yer wife and that warrior of hers.” Laird Graham licked his lips.

James narrowed his eyes. “What are ye talking about?”

“Then ye dinna know?” His father rubbed his hands together with barely contained eagerness. “She was up early this morning, training at swords with her protector.”

The roll lost its scant appeal. James lobbed it under the table and heard a wet snap as Piquette caught it.

“They’ve been spending a lot of time together, the two of them.” Laird Graham bit into a thick slab of pink ham.

James shrugged with indifference.

“Ye’re making the right decision, lad.” Laird Graham wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “It’s good to have ye at my side again, ready to fight.”

He continued to prattle through the meal in his low, gravelly tone, though James had a difficult time listening. He could think of nothing other than Anice and Drake. Neither of whom he saw come down to the great hall for food.

In fact, James did not see his wife until much later, when he purposefully went to her chamber to look for her. Ingrith was there with her, plaiting Anice’s golden hair into a thick rope of a braid down her back. The sweet scent of jasmine water hung in the air and stabbed at James’s heart.

He hated his jealousy toward Drake. And he hated the lies he’d have to tell to Anice.

“James.” Though Anice turned toward him with a bright smile, the way she’d said his name wasn’t the same. Flat. Lackluster. Without the heady excitement of which he’d grown accustomed. Her gaze was much the same—gone was the sparkle he’d come to anticipate.

“I heard ye were practicing with Drake this morning.” The words did not sound casually as intended, but hard with accusation.

The realization of this was echoed in Ingrith’s curious glance and Anice’s pinched brows.

“I cannot lose my ability to fight simply because I’m a wife,” Anice replied slowly. “One never knows when an unexpected attack may occur.”

The last statement came out hard and pointed, a dagger of words. Aye, there was a coldness to her demeanor to be sure.

“I would protect ye no matter what.” The pressure in James’s chest squeezed.

He would protect her; die for her if necessary. Even his betrayal now was to keep her safe. Hiding the truth of the attack, planning a way to stop it before men could be killed—it was for her, as much as it was for her people.

A voice nagged him, begging him to tell her. However, he knew doing so would push her into danger. She would sacrifice anything to save her family, and he could not allow that.

“Ye left Piquette,” he said, intentionally changing the topic of conversation.

“He was tired.” Her gaze swept to her lap, masking her emotions. “You both were.”

Ingrith rubbed a light rouge on Anice’s lips and cheeks.

“Anice.” James said only her name, but it was enough to draw his wife’s face up. He hadn’t known why he’d said it, only that he wanted her gaze upon him.

He needed her close to him, so that he might touch her, caress the sweetness of her. He stepped closer and ran a finger down her soft cheek. She continued to watch him without expression.

“Ye’re so verra lovely, mo leannan.”

She blinked suddenly, and her eyes filled with tears.

“Anice, are ye unwell?” He knelt at her side and took her slender hand in his large ones. “Has someone hurt ye?”

Ingrith immediately backed away and busied herself with the trunk of clothes on the opposite side of the room. Anice shook her head and waved James off. “I’m simply thinking of Werrick Castle.”

“Ye have me.”

A tear ran down her cheek, and she nodded. She didn’t understand exactly how much she had him, but she would. When the mess of this was behind him; when she realized what he had done. She would understand.