Page 84 of Anice’s Bargain

And so it was that when her door was thrown open and the blinding light of a candle thrust in, she was prepared. After all, she was a daughter of the Earl of Werrick. She straightened her spine and stared at the empty black beyond the candle to the unseen person carrying it. Whatever the outcome that day, whatever her fate, she would face it without fear.

The small, flickering flame lowered for a breath of a moment and revealed the exact face she’d summoned in her mind the last three days: James.

It was only for an instant, but that one swift glance was all she needed. His eyes met hers, tightened with emotion, with sadness and love and longing. Her heart crumpled at the power of that holding stare.

“Drake?” she mouthed.

“Escaped,” he replied in kind. The candle went up. “Get out of yer cell.” His voice was louder now, with an authoritative gruffness he had never once used with her.

Though she knew his hardness was all merely show, she could not help the stab of hurt at his tone. After the cold, the darkness and the pressing solitude, she wanted nothing more than to curl her arms around him and breathe in the comfort of his familiar cedar scent.

“Get on with ye,” he growled.

But the hand that reached for her was absent a similar malice. Rather than grab her, he put his fingers to the small of her back, much as he’d done in that first happy month of their marriage, and gently guided her forward.

“Wait,” he whispered.

Quickly, he knelt and pushed something cool into the ankle of her leather shoes. She’d glanced down as he did this and caught the telltale glint of a blade.

He rose and took her arm in his. His squeeze on her was one of reassurance. “Keep going.” He swung her forward and nodded his chin in silent indication of direction.

Anice allowed herself to be propelled into the hallway and staggered to a stop.

Several reivers stood by, a rope in their hands, their eyes fixed on the ground. They all knew her, just as she knew them. She had been by their cottages to offer bread when they had none and tinctures when they were ill. She’d cared for their children, for their wives, and in some cases, she’d cared also for them.

“You’ve come here for a purpose,” she said in her best lady-of-the-manor voice. “I suggest you get on with it.”

A fair-haired man she recognized as little Mairi’s father, a man named Gregor, lifted a chastened gaze in her direction. “Forgive me, Mistress.”

She held out her arms and leveled her gaze on him. “I know you mean to sack Werrick and destroy all the lives within for the sake of plunder.” She looked between the two others who had still not raised their eyes. “Only God could forgive such deeds.”

Gregor’s large hands shook as he bound the rope around her wrists, his concentration intensely focused on his task rather than fixing on her again. When he was done, the knot was sloppy and the bounds around her wrists were loose.

It was a restraint she would be able to easily free herself from.

They led her from the dungeon like a band of naughty children who had already been caught and thoroughly reprimanded for their deeds. If she wished to, surely, she could easily flee the morose group of reivers.

“Where is Piquette?” she asked suddenly.

“Ye needn’t worry about him,” James snapped.

Anice clenched her fists. She didn’t like this charade, not when she couldn’t see Piquette to ensure herself of his safety. James would never let anything happen to him, of course. But such awareness could not stop the emptiness in her chest from yearning to see her beloved dog.

The reivers led her from the castle and into the bailey. The sky was so bright, Anice jerked back, blinking and unable to see. Her eyes teared no matter how much she squinted against the sun’s radiance.

Her vision hadn’t fully adjusted as rough hands grabbed her. “Take her to the back for her to be watched properly.” Laird Graham’s voice rasped through the air.

Finally the overwhelming light in her eyes normalized and her vision returned, just in time for her to be pulled from James’s side. His expression remained impassive as she was dragged away, watching for only a brief moment before putting his back to her, seemingly uncaring.

And though it shouldn’t have affected her, the coldness of his apathetic attitude struck her to the core. The loneliness from the prior days, the inability to see Piquette, the indifference in the face of the man she loved.

“I’ll take her.” Gregor gingerly took her from the reiver she did not recognize, doubtless one of the many who had arrived from the Debatable Lands.

“Forgive me.” Gregor cast a glance over his shoulder as he settled her on the pony. “Did ye love him? The laird’s son, I mean.”

“Aye,” Anice said through a tight throat. “And I still do.”

Within minutes, the remainder of the troops were assembled, an overwhelming number even for the Grahams. News of Laird Graham’s desire to take Werrick must have inspired the larger part of the population in the wild Debatable Lands to join them. Though the Earl of Werrick would have forewarning, he would still have a difficult time fending off so many men.

The steady beat of a drum began and matched the worried thud of her own heart. The lines of stocky horses made their way forward for the ride to Werrick Castle. All too soon, Anice was swept among them in a sea of faces and horseflesh, dragged in the direction of her former home.

She only hoped her plan with James would work, so she would not have to watch Werrick fall and those she loved die. For with such a mass of soldiers at Laird Graham’s command, Anice was truly worried.

A familiar face caught the corner of Anice’s eye. Drake?

She spun about in her seat, but the man was lost in the shifting crowd once more. Surely, it had not been him. James had confirmed with her that Drake had escaped.

And though she did not see the man again, one who could well have been a mere conjuring of her imagination, an uneasy knot began to form in her stomach.