Winning the Highlander's Heart (4 page)

Mai avoided answering her question.  “Are you ready to break fast, milady?”

“Aye.  I have been ready since I missed morning meal.”

“You are not accustomed to the English rules yet, milady.  Mayhap in a couple of more days you shall be well adjusted.”

Anice would not be staying at Arundel to grow accustomed to the king’s rules.  One way or another she intended to be on her way.

With her stomach rumbling, she and her lady-in-waiting walked down the stairs to the great hall.  Inside, tables had been erected for the meal like the fingers of a comb.  The head table, the spine of the comb, sat slightly elevated and centered against the wall.  The smell of burning tallow, of fresh baked bread and venison scented the air.

Anice had no intention of searching for MacNeill or his companions.  Nay.  She would sit at the table she normally did without any thought to where the Highlanders perched themselves.  Why should she care where they sat, or what they ate, or how they conducted themselves?  Why should she care when they were so determined to find
English
brides?

Well, at least the tallest one.

She had no interest in them at all.  Not in their warrior bodies, their broad shoulders, backs, and tall statures.  No interest in their dark eyes, especially the tallest one.  The one with the dimples when he smiled at another lady that gave him a roguish, mischievous look.

Did the lady return the smile?  Most likely.  Too busy ogling the youngest Highlander, Anice hadn’t noticed the lady’s response to Laird MacNeill’s obvious interest in her.

Inwardly Anice groaned.  It mattered not to her whom he attempted to charm.  She took a deep breath and glanced around the room.  Was there no other Highlander she could solicit to return her home?

“Milady,” Mai said, “Queen Matilda wishes to speak with you after the meal.”

“I just spoke with her before—”

“Something must be discussed, she said, but spoke nay further on the subject.”

Had the king decided whom she should wed?  To think some man had to be bribed to marry her.  Och, the notion incensed her and her blood quickly heated.  Had she been a man, she could have married whom she pleased, and the castle and lands would have been her own.

When she stood beside a bench, her gaze searched for...not for the Highlanders as she truly didn’t care if they went straight to the devil, but for...the king and her cousin’s arrival.  She readied herself to greet them like the other courtiers would when the royal couple arrived.  The place grew quiet, and she took a deep breath, expecting to see them.

Instead, the three Highlanders entered.

Her heart skipped a beat.  Annoyed, she attempted to quiet her unwelcome reaction to their presence.

For a moment, they surveyed the room for empty seats.

She held her breath when the youngest pointed in her direction.  Two empty spots were situated beside her.  Where were the knight and his lady who usually sat there?

MacNeill nodded, then motioned to a vacant place at another long table.

She narrowed her eyes at him.  He would take the seat at the other table to avoid her because she wasn’t English?

Her breath caught as he and the youngest strode across the great hall and soon stood beside her while the remaining Highlander took his place before the other trestle table.

Once the king and queen sat, the courtiers followed suit.  After the wine was served, and the bread cut, the younger of the two Highlanders began to speak.  “I have heard talk of a bonny lass who tried to leave the grounds today without escort
or
His Grace’s permission.”

“Aye, my little brother.  How could a lady be so foolish as to do such a thing?” Laird MacNeill asked.  “I have heard tell she displeased the king with her actions.  She should be taken across a man’s knee and paddled like a da would his unruly bairn.”

Anice fumed.  They knew it was she they spoke about.  How dare they talk about her behind her back, to her face?  How dare they say she should be punished...in such ...such an arrogant manner?  How dare the brigands!

They crunched on their bread, and she fingered her goblet, wanting to get back at them, but not knowing what to say.  She considered their words further.  So the two men were brothers.  Was the other also?  What happened to the fourth?

“I cannot believe we came here seeking brides and instead have been given a job...by order of our most illustrious king,” the younger brother said.

“Aye.  And to think, Angus, we must give up having a sweet wife hanging on our every word so that we can protect the virtue of one who is...”

Anice waited for the older MacNeill, who couldn’t have been any older than his mid-twenties, to finish his statement.  He caught her eye and smiled.  Her body instantly warmed with embarrassment to be caught listening in on their private conversation, though she had no doubt they spoke loudly enough for her benefit.

When Malcolm didn’t finish his words, Angus spoke.  “Be careful what you say, Malcolm.  We will have to live by the lady’s rule.”

Malcolm picked up a wedge of cheese.  “To think now we have to run the lass’s castle while the Norman fop pursues her.”

Anice stayed the rim of the cup at her lips.  They weren’t talking about her.  They had to be discussing some other woman now.  She stared at the two of them, but both seemed content to shove venison into their mouths and say no more.

“The English ladies,” she remarked as if she were speaking to herself, but with an attempt to make her words sound more...English, “willna...”  She paused, chiding herself for the mistake.  “Will no doubt miss the attentions of three fine lairds...”  She cleared her throat.  Trying to slip her tongue around the English version of her words proved more difficult than she thought.  “
Lords
of the MacNeill clan.”

Seemingly dumbfounded, Malcolm and his brother stared at her, then both burst out laughing.

The hair stood on her arms as her blood heated with chagrin.  She didn’t think what she said funny in the least.

“Aye, that they will,” Angus said, still chuckling.

A smile simmered on Malcolm’s lips, and his dark eyes watched Anice as if she were a bird and he the hawk who chased her.  Yet, he said nothing in reply.

She fingered a piece of cheese.  “Why, I wonder, would a Highlander want an Englishwoman for a bride?”  She spoke with a modicum of disbelief.

His eyes sparkling, Malcolm asked, “Why no’?”

“A Highland lady oft has nay choice, so it seems.”  She glanced at the king and his wife sitting at the high table, irritated how women had so little say in who they married.  “But a Highland laird...”  She shrugged.

“You mean to tell me you dinna want a Norman for a husband?”

She glowered at him.

Angus smiled.  “Seems she was not checking us out to see if we were kin of hers, but looked us over as husbandly prospects, Malcolm.”

Mai grumbled under her breath.  For being older, she had the hearing of a feral cat.

Anice retorted, “Why in heaven’s name would I do that?  I was looking for...someone else who was not there.”

“And the incident at the stable?” Malcolm asked, his voice hardened as if he were her father, who’d she’d lost some years ago, about to give a lecture on something she ought not have done.

 “The business is not yours.”  She sipped more of her wine, trying to reduce her annoyance.

“The king has made it my business, if you are Lady Anice, Countess of Brecken of Glen Affric.”  He bowed his head slightly.  “I am Malcolm MacNeill, Earl of Pembrinton.  This is my youngest brother, Angus.  O’er yonder is our brother, Dougald.  We have been given positions on your staff.”

“What?”  The Highlander was daft.  Had he been nipping at the wine cask before the meal?  Her steward made the selections for her staff while she was away.  Not the king.

“I have been given the job to oversee your properties until you take a husband.  For now, I am your humble steward, milady.”  Again, he bowed his head.

She stared at him, wondering if the king had taken leave of his senses.  Matilda had said nothing to her about any of this.  Yet, a trickle of dread wormed its way into her stomach.  Was this what Matilda had needed to talk to her about following the meal?

Nay, the MacNeill was mistaken.  “I have a steward, Laird MacNeill, thank you verra much.  So you’d best tell the king you are back in the market for an English bride.”

Malcolm set his knife down, a look of concern reflected in his dark eyes.  “There has been a wee bit o’ a scandal at Brecken.  I thought you had been apprised of the situation, ergo your reason for trying to leave the grounds before the meal.  Your steward, chamberlain, and treasurer have all vanished without a trace.”

Anice struggled to make sense of the news.  The blood rapidly drained from her face, forcing a dizziness to wash over her.  She grabbed the oak table to steady herself.

Malcolm’s hand seized her arm before the great hall grew dark, as if the day had turned to night without tallow to light the way.

*  *  *

Malcolm paced across the grassy bailey, his head pounding with gusto, furious with himself for breaking the news to Lady Anice in such a forthright manner.  Truly, he thought her trip to the stables and subsequent tongue-lashing of the marshal, evidence she wished to return home at once and take matters in hand.

But he should have ensured she had been apprised of the situation beforehand.  Beyond that, he should have learned the lady was of delicate temperament.  Though, determining she was Scottish born gave him the false impression she would have more fortitude.  Still, she was a lady, and he should have taken that into account.

No way had he wanted to cause the scene that followed during the meal.

His brothers now watched him as he paced, trying to settle his discomfiture.  Worry etched across Angus’s wrinkled brow.  Dougald’s lips, on the other hand, curved upward in a devilish smirk.  Dougald was the one who usually got himself into dilemmas with the ladies.  Malcolm preferred the battlefield, fighting man-to-man, not dealing with women and their highly emotional states, which could lead a man to an early grave.

Everything that had occurred ran through his mind again.  The look of utter horror on Lady Anice’s face.  The fading of color from her cheeks until she was paler than the moon.  Her lower lip had trembled and at once, he’d wanted to take every word he’d spoken back.  How could he have hurt her so?  But it did not stop there.  Her green eyes could not have widened any further, then tears had clouded them, though she had managed to keep the tears in check with some difficulty.  There was no sight, no battle, nothing that could bring him to his knees like the tears of a woman.

Particularly
when he’d brought them about.

“Think you the king will change his mind about us taking the lady’s deserted staff positions?” Angus asked.  Anxiety threaded his words, always the worrier of the three, though despite his youth, Malcolm’s youngest brother had seen enough bloodshed for two lifetimes.

“If so, we can pursue our previous intentions.”  When his brothers raised their brows in question, Malcolm clarified, “Find English brides.”  Though at the moment, the thought did not appeal.

Dougald chuckled.  “Think you the king will let us near his Englishwomen after distressing the Scottish lass?”

Malcolm glanced at the location of the sun, ignoring his brother’s jibe.  “The king wished us to leave as soon as possible.  With the lady so indisposed, mayhap we should wait ‘til the morrow.”

“Mayhap we should leave her here to recover a wee bit longer,” Dougald suggested, his tone deadly serious.  “It would be better to set accounts right at her castle if we dinna have to worry about the lady’s health, dinna you agree?”