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?”
“Aye.” Malcolm took a ragged breath. Ever since he’d seen the woman, he’d done everything wrong. First, they’d never been properly introduced. No, before that. He’d run his hands up her naked leg. He smiled. That he hadn’t minded.
Then he had to tell her horrors that caused her to faint dead away. Worse, because of his having done so, he had deemed it necessary to carry her to the bedchamber, which caused a stir. He’d hurt her and had to make it up to her. At least that’s what he told himself.
When he had returned to the meal, he’d overheard the snickering from the English nobles speaking about him as if he were a buffoon. Some of the ladies seemed shocked.
Dougald cleared his throat. “I thought Queen Matilda was also going to faint when you carried Lady Anice out of the hall.”
“I had not been thinking quite clearly.”
“Oh, I dinna know, Malcolm,” Dougald said with his typical teasing tone. “The lady sitting next to me told another how heroic the Highlander was. The Englishmen did not like it because you showed them up. They would have had their servants take care of an indisposed lady. For a laird to make the effort? Your actions sparked some attention amongst some of the more eligible English ladies. Quite a brilliant plan, really, Malcolm. Wish I had thought of it.”
The notion he’d aided Anice to make an impression on Englishwomen of the king’s court didn’t sit well. If he could, he would take every action and word he’d committed back and begin all over...steering clear of the Scottish lass entirely.
Dougald continued with his teasing banter. “I heard tell her lady-in-waiting ordered you out of the bedchambers.”
Had they not been at Arundel with King Henry in temporary residence, Malcolm would have walloped Dougald good. Though he hadn’t meant to explain himself to his brother, the words slipped out before he could stop them. “I offered my further assistance. I wished to express my apologies to the lady.”
“Aye.” The sparkle in Dougald’s eye showed he didn’t believe Malcolm.
Malcolm bit his tongue, not wishing to further Dougald’s subtle ribbing by adding timber to the flame.
“The king’s physician saw to her?” Dougald asked, his tone changing to concern, but whether for the lady, or worried Malcolm might haul off and hit him despite his wanting to keep up appearances, he wasn’t certain.
“Aye,” Malcolm said.
“Then all we need do is learn if His Grace has changed his mind about us working for Lady Anice.”
What did the king think about them? That they were boorish, bullheaded Scotsmen with no sensitivities?
His stomach clenched with worrying how Anice had taken the news. He glanced up at the window to the shared chambers. Was she conscious yet?
The king’s redheaded steward joined them, his blue eyes narrowed and his jaw set. “Lord MacNeill, His Grace wishes you to depart as soon as you can for Brecken Castle. But because of Lady Anice’s delicate condition, he suggests you leave on the morrow.”
“Mayhap the lady should stay here longer to rest. We can return for her in a fortnight,” Malcolm offered, hoping they could leave the lady behind so he could get on with the business at hand. Would not she be safer with her king and cousin Matilda? Particularly when they had no idea what had happened to Anice’s staff members.
“She wishes to leave at once, but His Grace says no. She will leave on the morrow with you as His Grace has said.” The steward scuttled back inside the keep.
Malcolm glanced at his brothers, who both smiled at him.
Dougald shook his head, the knowing look on his face, annoying Malcolm. “I have told you, the lady is a handful.”
“Aye, that she is.” A soft, warm, curvaceous handful. When he’d had his arms wrapped around her soft body, all he could think of was how fortunate the laird would be who gained her hand in marriage. His neck muscles strained with tension. So why did this thought stir him into wanting to do battle when he desired instead an English bride?
* * *
Anice stared out the window, watching Laird MacNeill pace across the inner bailey. Was he bothered that he had upset her so? Or did he worry he’d lost favor with the king?
Mai placed her hand on her shoulder, her touch warm and comforting like her mother’s had been when she was a child. “Milady, the king’s physician bade you stay in bed.”
“I am fine, Mai. I dinna need to lie down.”
Mai peeked out the window. “I told ye to leave the Highlander well enough alone. Look what he did to you! Frightened you half to death. Me, too, if anybody has a care.”
Swallowing hard, Anice rubbed her chilled skin. “Did my staff run off because they have stolen my funds? Or have they been disposed of for some sinister reason? I must know what happened to them and why. Their families must be overcome with grief. Why cannot His Grace let me leave now?”
Queen Matilda cleared her throat as she walked into the chambers. “Because the king’s physician says you shall stay. Why are you up and about? You are to be resting in bed.”
Anice quickly curtsied. “I am no’ tired, beg your pardon, Your Grace. Why did Your Grace not tell me what happened already?”
“I did not know until right before the meal.”
“Was everything he said true? Laird MacNeill, I mean. That he and his brothers will replace my staff?”
“Until you are wed, aye.”
Anice narrowed her eyes. “And who is to be chosen for me? An English laird?”
“A Norman lord. Baron Harold de Fontenot will be visiting you once you return. He is the king’s most fervent choice because he is loyal to His Grace. He hopes that you will look on the gentleman favorably.”
Had Anice any choice? She doubted it.
“I have to say, my cousin, I spoke to His Grace about permitting you to return to your castle because of how homesick you are. You should not have tried to leave here on your own. English nobles will think you are a wild Scotswoman, unruly and unmanageable. Rumors are circulating you even climbed out the keep window. Of course, you would not have done anything so foolish as that. ‘Tis a wonder what stories idle tongues will forge next.”
Anice fought speaking in her defense, pursed her lips, and kept her mouth closed.
“There is this matter of the curse, but of course only the truly superstitious believe in it.”
Did her cousin have to bring that up? Even though she fought believing it herself, she sometimes wondered—
“I must admit, Anice, I admire you for not succumbing to the charms of my husband. Any woman in your place would not have done so. For that reason, I spoke on your behalf.”
Anice smiled, grateful for her assistance, and glad to know that Henry’s actions had not gone unnoticed by Matilda. “Thanks be to thee, Your Grace.” She curtseyed deeply.
Matilda poked her nose out the window. “His Grace is sending the MacNeill brothers to fill your staff in the
interim and escort you home.”
“Why? Should I no’ make this decision about my staff?” Anice couldn’t help the dismay coating her words. Though she was pleased the Highlanders would return her home, there were others on her staff she wished to promote because of their loyalty to her and giving the positions to outsiders wouldn’t be appreciated by most, she feared.
“His Grace wishes it so. Though, I suspect it has something to do with him not wanting the Highlanders to court the English ladies here.”
Anice’s mouth dropped open, and she couldn’t help being angered that Henry would be so deceitful. “Do the MacNeills realize this?”
“I would think not. These positions are the highest in your staff. They no doubt are proud of their assignment.”
“For how long?”
“Until the baron has your hand in marriage. He will then hire his own staff.”
“And the MacNeills?”
Matilda shrugged. “’Tis not for me to say. As to another matter, His Grace intends to do battle with his brother again, and he wishes this marriage of yours decided soon.”
Anice stared at her cousin. “Robert Curthose received the Duchy of Normandy upon his father’s death. Cannot he be satisfied? His Grace only received five-thousand pounds of silver when the king died, for heaven’s sakes.”
“Robert has always maintained that after their older brother died in the hunting accident, he should have been next in line.”
As by rights of succession he should have been. But Henry acted as fair handed as kings go, and she’d only heard ill tidings about Robert, who was not liked by many of the Norman nobles. His being away fighting in the Crusades at the time of William’s untimely death left the throne free to Henry, the youngest son of William I. Though many hadn’t thought he’d have a chance at the throne and was educated instead, mayhap to become a bishop. Being one of the first literate kings, who also spoke English, Henry’s training was sure to have pleased Matilda.