In Bed With A Stranger by Mary Wine

Chapter Nine

Sterling

Spring arrived in full glory. Winter lost its grip on the land and with it the people of Sterling became busy. Planting season began. Every set of available hands was pressed into service. The spinning room was empty save for Enys now that there was good weather.

Days turned into weeks without the return of the earl. Anne spent the time working alongside Enys, grateful to escape the rest of the castle. Helen remained in Perth while her daughter was in childbed.

Anne missed her sorely.

Be truthful…you miss Brodick.

There was a wicked streak in her nature, to be sure. It was boldly filling her dreams with heated memories of the nights she’d shared with her lover. She saw his face, heard his voice and even sometimes felt his hands on her body, her slumber shattering as she sat up in bed, burning for fulfillment only to notice that she was alone.

That had to be sinful.

The shadows lengthened as another day ended with no return. Anne drew a deep breath into her lungs to steady her nerves. She had grown to loathe the night. Eating in the hall had become so stressful, she avoided it, scavenging what she could once most of the men had finished their meals. The maids had only grown more cutting in their looks since no one checked their behavior. As mistress she should have.

Yet she lacked the heart to impose her will on them. She was a sham. Maybe they even sensed her guilt. Nobles were set above others by divine will. There was great disagreement just where blue-blooded bastards belonged in that heavenly ordered precedence. Was she beneath even the lowest beggar or above the maids giving her those frozen glares?

She did not know, so she did nothing, slipping away to work in the spinning room on some days. On the others she applied a needle to the clothing Mary had sent along with her. All of it had arrived back in her chamber without the alterations.

The quiet work suited her mood.

But the hours alone only encouraged her mind to think of Brodick. Telling herself to banish such ideas didn’t stop his face from rising as she plied a needle. Loneliness settled around like a dark cloak. After a fortnight, it became comfortable. She spent long hours thinking about her family. Bonnie would be fifteen this summer; plenty old enough for that horrible marriage Philipa had threatened. Anne shuddered, nausea twisting her stomach. Bonnie was a ray of summer sunshine. Thinking about such an ill fate made her want to retch.

The fire had long since gone cold and no one came to rebuild it. Anne left the coals, putting her surcoat on to stay warm. She had never had a fire laid simply for her own pleasure at Warwickshire. Since she was destined to return there, she should not become accustomed to the comforts she would have to leave behind.

She was much more worried about what Brodick would do when he discovered she was not the heiress bride he’d come south to fetch. A lump formed in her throat. Tears stung her eyes and she had to turn her back on the bed.

He would be furious.

Every moment of tenderness they’d shared would be dust once he knew the truth. She dreaded the moment. Yet found no way to avoid it. Unlike Philipa, Anne did not agree that Brodick would not notice the difference between her and Mary. The only thing that was in question was just which of them would be in the room when he unearthed the conspiracy.

The nausea persisted, making the idea of food repulsive. More weeks passed. Many days went by without her speaking to a single soul. It was as if she were a ghost, moving through the castle, yet unseen by the rest of the inhabitants.

Philipa’s insistence that she work as a servant came to be a blessing as the staff of Sterling ignored her. Anne knew her way about everyday work. In sooth, remaining busy was a kindness. At least while she was washing her bed linens and clothing, her mind had something to mull over that was not the possible fate of her family.

Was her mother still alive?

That question haunted her. Philipa hated Ivy. After years of hate poisoning Philipa’s soul, she was now black with rot. Having found the courage to force Anne to leave with Brodick, it was very possible the mistress of Warwickshire had turned Ivy Copper out. It might have been done the moment Anne disappeared from sight. She had no way of discovering the truth. At Sterling she was even more cut off from her father.

It was a muddle that even the clear spring weather could not melt away. The sun warmed her face as she hauled water from the river to wash her laundry and still she felt chilled and shaky. Her belly remained queasy, a tight knot that despised all but a few bits of nibbled bread. Even that bland fare often turned her green.

She fell into a routine. Rising with the sun and sleeping as soon as it set. The candles in her chamber had long since burned low. She couldn’t think of a good reason to burn another one since she only had her own needs to see to. It would be a waste of a good resource. A habit she didn’t need to foster in herself. Who knew where she might find herself come next spring and under what circumstances.

Brodick would turn her out when he discovered the ruse. Tears stung her eyes and she wiped them away. Crying was foolish.

Still she could not stop the flood of regret that hit her. He was a fine man who treated his wife kindly, far more tenderly than many. Even with his staff being so cold to her, there was much about her life at Sterling to covet. If it were her home, she would take the staff in hand. But she remained an outcast because she knew that she was not the true mistress of the house.

She was the lord’s leman at best, and even that would end when Brodick became wise to Philipa’s game.

With no fire, she often slept in the surcoat, its sturdy fabric a welcome comfort in the chamber. Once huddled beneath the coverlet, she was quite warm. If only her heart could be thawed by the fabric.

That would surely be too much to hope for.

Home

Brodick didn’t care if Cullen teased him. He was happy to be headed home. It wasn’t the first month he’d spent on the trail. A harsh truth that it wouldn’t be his last either. But tonight, he was following the moon back to Sterling. It set his heart to pounding and his mind to thinking about his sweet wife.

He caught Cullen staring at him.

“No teasing remark, Brother? Are ye sure yer nae feeling fevered?”

His brother didn’t grin. Instead he looked serious and older than his years.

“I’m contemplating the fact that I’m envious of ye.”

Druce reined in beside them. “Did I hear ye right? Was that actually wee Cullen admitting he can see the worth in marrying?”

Cullen glared at their cousin. “I always knew the value of the dowry but I didnae grasp the worth o’ having someone waiting on my return. That’s what I envy. Laugh if ye want, but ye’ve no one praying for yer skin, either.”

Druce frowned. “Maybe, I admit I’m beginning to see the benefits o’ such a thing. Possibly.”

Had she really prayed for him?

Only his mother had ever done that. His face heated just a wee bit as another part of him was far more interested in knowing if she’d dreamed about him. Late at night, when the fire was low and her bed empty. He’d thought about her every night on the trail, his back feeling the rocks more than he had in years.

“Well, I’d be most appreciative if one of ye would catch that daughter of McQuade’s and marry her. That way I’d nae have to chase his raiding clansmen across my land.”

“Bronwyn McQuade?”

Druce and Cullen both scowled as they spoke the name. Cullen shook his head in denial. “Yer harsh, Brother. Bronwyn is a shrew, more sour than Medusa.”

Druce chuckled. “I hear her pretty face is the lure she wiggles in front o’ men before unleashing her hellcat temper.”

“None o’ us have ever even been in the same room with the lass. Could be ’tis nothing more than a fable.”

“And I’ve no plans to change that, man.” Druce looked set in his opinion. “I want a sweet lass waiting for me, nae a battle of epic proportions every night.”

Brodick shrugged. “There were many who warned me against my bride. Told me the English bred weak women with tempers like the insane.” The top of the first tower of Sterling came into sight. “I’m humbly thankful that I’ve been shown otherwise.”

Brodick spurred his horse forward. Cullen and Druce watched him gallop towards his home.

“’Tis more enthusiasm than any man so newly wed should have.” Cullen didn’t sound as confident as he’d like. Envy was still riding him hard.

“Well now, I suppose maybe we’re the unlucky sods for nae having someone to make us that impatient.”

Cullen slid his cousin a raised eyebrow. “Does that mean yer taking another bit of thinking over Bronwyn McQuade?”

“Nae.” Druce said it too loudly.

Cullen smirked. “Nae? It sounds like ye might be thinking o’ it.”

Druce snickered, his voice low and mocking. “You first, laddie. I want to make sure she’s fed before I go too close to her claws.”

“Och well, nae every man has the amount o’ courage I’m blessed with.”

A couple of retainers laughed at Druce’s expense. He pointed a finger at Cullen. “I cannae wait to see ye tame her. Ye won’t be the first man she’s sent howling from her with his tail between his legs.”

Cullen frowned as more heads turned to listen in on their conversation. Druce smiled, enjoying his discomfort.

“Unless ye’ve lost some o’ that great courage, cousin.”

Chuckles surrounded him, raising his temper. “We’ll see.”

“Will we? I cannae wait.” Druce smirked. “Truly I cannae.”

“Ye will.” Cullen kneed his horse forward. The snickering behind him sent his temper to boiling. He didn’t care if he’d started it, the idea that any lass might be so hard to handle didn’t sit well with him. His brother was right. Marrying up with Bronwyn would settle a great many scores. His aching back found it a fine idea. Besides, beneath his teasing exterior was a son who had been raised with the same sense of duty that Brodick had. Marrying for the benefit of the McJames people was his future. ’Twas not just any bride he needed. Bronwyn McQuade was, in fact, a fine choice to be contemplating.

Now if he could only manage a way to getting close enough to the lass without getting his neck stretched on a rope by her father and brothers. That was the real trick. Not taming her.

There wasn’t a lass alive that was too strong to resist his charm. It might be a wee bit of fun to pursue the stubborn lass just to see how fast she succumbed to his touch.

The bells didn’t ring upon his return.

Brodick had ordered that custom stopped when his father died. He didn’t feel worthy of the bells announcing his return until he proved his worth as the new Lord of Sterling. ’Twas not something that could be done in the three short years he’d held his title. He rode through the open gate with pride tonight. All the discomforts of the last five weeks dissipated as he looked over the peace of the courtyard. Men walked the walls, the fires were burning evenly and all of its inhabitants slept in ease.

That was the duty of the McJames.

The sword on his back was never too heavy. But he was glad to be home again. Swinging his leg off the back of his horse, he gave the animal a firm pat before letting a stable lad take the reins. The youth looked stunned for a moment, hesitating because Brodick normally cared for his own steed.

“Do a good job of rubbing him down, lad, and I’ll see a reward to ye.”

A smile parted the boy’s face. “I’ll be like his mother.”

Men began spilling through the open gate, their voices cheerful. Lights began to flicker in the tower as wives and families roused. He looked up toward the chamber his wife slept in but saw no hint of light in the window.

That didn’t discourage him.

All it did was unleash a wicked desire to wake her up.

He stopped halfway up the steps. Inside he caught a whiff of sweet lavender from the candles. A deeper breath gave him a hint of what his body smelled like. Turning around he moved toward the bathing room. The erection standing at attention behind his kilt would just have to wait until he removed the stench of horse and sweat.

His wife had a pretty nose that he had no desire to see wrinkled.

The kitchen was already lit up, Bythe and her helpers smiling with welcome. Several retainers had made their way to their families, joy spilling into the darker corridors.

“Bythe, I’ve need o’ a bath and I dinnae care if it’s cold as a spinster.”

“Aye, my lord. It will be chilly, the fires are low.” She wrung her hands, looking about nervously.

“No matter, ’tis no reason to fret. Send the water.”

One of the maids scurried into the bath room with a candle. She touched the flame to the wicks of the candles mounted on the walls, bringing them to life. With a hasty lowering of her head, she departed. Water began splashing down the trough and into the tub. It gurgled, making a happy sound, and Brodick shed his clothing, grateful to be back in civilized surroundings. He was thirty-four years old and happy to relinquish the desire to ride through the night to the younger men who still considered it gallant.

He preferred his home.

Sitting down in the tub, he reached for the soap. It was a common bar, milled on his own land without any feminine perfume scents added. There was only a scent of beeswax. He applied it to his skin with brisk strokes, his thoughts centered on completing his task so he might get on with what he was truly craving.

His bed with his wife in it.

He was slightly disappointed that she had not come down to greet him, but shrugged it off. Her chamber was above floors and she was most likely still slumbering away, unaware that he’d returned. He suddenly understood why his father had the bells rung when he entered the courtyard.

It suddenly seemed like a fine tradition.

“Toweling, my lord.”

Ginny spoke from the doorway, her head looking at the floor. She kept her sight on the hem of her skirt as she entered and left the neat linen on a stool.

“If my wife awakes, send her to me.”

The maid swallowed roughly. Brodick froze, turning his attention to the girl, but she was scurrying out of the room as if he were Satan. He frowned, but dismissed the maid. The only woman he had to struggle to understand was his wife.

Now that was a task he was looking forward to.

His wife’s chamber was too cold. Brodick frowned, his wet hair feeling the chill when he entered it. There wasn’t a speck of light from anywhere inside the chamber. His suspicions rose as he cast a look at the fireplace. There was nothing there; even the scent of smoke was missing from the room telling him that a fire had not been burning for many days, possibly weeks. The curtains on the windows were open as well. They should have been drawn at night to keep the fire heat from seeping past the glass. But having them open allowed moonlight and light from the walls to penetrate into the dark room. He’d expect such if a room was unoccupied.

Icy fingers closed around his heart. It was the sort of feeling he’d only experienced a few times in his life. Dread choked him as he moved toward the bed, trying to see through the blackness. The bed curtains were drawn all the way around the bed, only a mere few inches open at the foot of the bed. Inside, there was naught but darkness.

Had she fled back to her father?

Jerking one curtain aside, he reached into the bed and found a small lump. His breath expelled from his lungs in a rush of relief. His knees actually wobbled and he sat down heavily on the foot of the bed. His wife moved, stirring as her bed was rocked.

“What does the mistress require?”

His wife looked at the bed curtains, confusion marring her face. Her words didn’t make sense.

“Don’t ye mean the queen? When I attended yer English court, I dinnae recall her ladies calling her mistress.”

“My lord?”

Anne stared at the large shape and trembled. Joy rushed through her. She reached out to touch him, needing the reassurance of feeling his warm skin. It felt as if it had been forever since he left.

“I believe I instructed ye to call me Brodick when in our bed.”

He moved before her fingers made contact with him. The bed rocked, sending the curtains swaying like they were on a ship at sea. His large form looked huge in the darkness but his voice had been tender and welcoming. She sighed when his arms wrapped around her, hauling her up against him in a solid embrace that made her shiver.

She had dreamed of his arms around her.

“Brodick.” She lightly stroked his shoulders, shaking with happiness. He groaned softly.

“Say that again.”

Tracing a path up his neck she toyed with the locks of his hair. It was wet and curling.

“Welcome home, Brodick”

His mouth sought hers, taking a firm kiss. She slid her hands back to his shoulders. His lips pressed hers open, lingering over her mouth like a fine whiskey. He didn’t rush but tasted her gently.

“What are you sleeping in?”

Her fingers tried to hold him close but he pulled away to look at her.

“Are ye wearing that surcoat in bed?” His hands ran over her shoulders, trying to discover exactly what she was covered in.

“It keeps me warm when you are away.”

His hands stopped investigating her clothing. He framed her face gently, leaning back close until she felt his breath on her moist lips.

“Ah lass, ye’ll turn my head with flattery like that.” He opened the surcoat, working the buttons quickly, even in the dark. He pushed the garment over her shoulders, lifting her up to get at the tail of her chemise.

“Ye’ve no need o’ it now. I promise to keep ye very warm.”

His kiss blocked out whatever she might have thought to reply. His large body pressed her back into the bed. Anne reached for him, frantic to be touched. The solitude of the last month felt like an eternity. Brodick was warm and solid. Everything she craved.

She kissed him back. Her tongue boldly seeking his, his tongue tangling deep inside her mouth, stroking and gliding against hers. Her hands twisted in his hair, combing through the wet strands. Even that touch flooded her with sweet sensation. Each breath she drew brought his scent deep into her lungs, further confirming that she was no longer alone.

She wasn’t cold either.

Her blood began heating, melting away the chill that had encased her. The skin that had felt nothing but cold for so long suddenly flickered with heat so intense it was like fever. Her feet slid along his calves, their legs entwining. The flow of heat entered her belly, swirling into her passage. One warm hand cupped a breast, firmly grasping it.

“I’ve missed ye.” Husky and needy, his voice was pure delight. His thumb brushed over the puckered point of her nipple. A soft grunt left his lips.

“I think ye’ve missed me, too.”

“I have.”

He leaned down, boldly sucking her nipple into his mouth. The tip of his tongue lashing against it over and over again. A soft moan escaped her lips, her body falling back onto the bed to offer her breast to his lips. He plumped it in his hand, pushing the nipple up further. With a soft pop he pulled his lips free, his breath blowing across the wet skin. Goose bumps spread over the delicate skin as she shivered.

“Say my name, lass. I’ve longed to hear it in my dreams.”

She’d say anything as long as he’d resume sucking her nipple.

“Brodick.”

His breath roughened. “Again.”

The fingers on her breast released the globe to trail down the center of her body.

“Welcome home, Brodick.”

“Aye, ye’re that, a welcoming thing to find waiting in my bed.”

His fingers found the curls at the top of her sex. Her back arched, sensation drawing her muscles tight with anticipation.

“I wonder though. Just how welcoming ye’re feeling.”

One large finger parted her slit, sliding across her clitoris. A soft gasp crossed her lips as sensation jolted through her. It was wild and strong, spiking up into her passage, her sheath becoming needy and demanding.

“Warm, aye, but still not as hot as I know ye can be.”

He was teasing her but she did not care. His finger stroked her clitoris, rubbing the little point of pleasure with slow circular motions. Heat raged inside her, growing hotter with each second. Her thighs parted further, the folds of her slit opening. He ran his finger down the plump lips to the opening of her body, gently teasing it all the way around before dipping into her sheath just a tiny amount. A harsh cry left her lips as the muscles of her passage tried to clasp that fingertip. She felt so empty it hurt.

“Now that’s much hotter. I must have found the right coals to stoke.” His finger penetrated deeply, gently sliding over the needy walls of her sheath. Her hips bucked, lifting towards him. Her body was slick, taking his finger easily.

“A man could nae ask for a warmer welcome than that.”

His teasing was driving her insane. He felt too far away. She wanted to feel his body pressing down on top of hers, every bit of her skin in contact with his.

“Come to me, lover.”

Her voice sounded foreign, sultry. Holding her arms open, she waited for him to answer her.

“Aye.”

Demand edged his voice. His finger left her body before he rolled over her. She clasped her thighs around his hips, spreading wide for him. His elbow took most of his weight, pressing against the mattress near her head.

“Aye, indeed.”

He pressed his cock into her, stretching her body with his girth. She arched towards him, moaning with enjoyment. Her sheath gripped his hard flesh, enjoying the nips of near pain that ran through her because of his absence. Her clitoris began throbbing in earnest, begging for friction.

“Verra warm and welcoming.”

His words didn’t shock her tonight. They fanned the flames higher, sending more heat racing towards her passage. He moved, withdrawing to the tip of his cock. She echoed his motion, lifting her bottom when he began thrusting back into her.

A harsh cry left her lips as his length rubbed along her swollen clitoris. Her body shuddered, sweat popping out on her skin. She was too needy. Felt too hot. Her body was greedy and starving for his. She gripped his thick biceps, her fingers curling into the firm muscles.

“Aye, lass, hold on to me. I’ll nae leave you wanting.”

His body made good on that promise, riding her with a steady, pounding rhythm that shook the bed. Her cries filled the bed curtains, pleasure flooding her. The hard flesh riding her sent delight through her entire body. Her lover hissed through his teeth, growling as he moved faster, sinking his cock deeper into her with each hard thrust. Her pleasure began to tighten around his length as she felt him swell larger. He bucked and she gasped, her lungs freezing.

“That’s it, milk me.”

He snarled as his body thrashed, bearing down on hers, burying his cock with a savage grunt. Pleasure burst through her and it continued while his seed spurted against the mouth of her womb. Time froze, unmoving as she heard only one heartbeat and then waited for the next one.

When it came, she fell back onto the bed, her muscles spent. Satisfaction rippled along her limbs while Brodick rolled off her. He captured her body, pulling her against his chest.

“I’ve a good mind to ride out every day for the rest of our lives just so I can be welcomed back.”

His hand smoothed her hair, gripping the braid she’d secured it into before lying down.

“I dinnae like your hair plaited.”

“Yes, my lord.” Anne drew his title out, fatigue taking away her worries. While the dark hid the rest of the world, she could enjoy being his lover. For now he wanted her.

She didn’t have the will to deny him.

There was no fire in the chamber.

Brodick knelt in front of the fireplace, a hand held over the cold ashes. A deep frown marred his features. Pink colored the horizon, dawn visible through the open curtains.

There hadn’t been one laid in the chamber for at least a week.

He knew it. His gaze cut toward the bed, suspicion darkening his eyes. Anne was still sleeping, curled up in the bedding. Her feet tangled in the fabric to hold it close to her.

He looked at one candelabra and then walked to the next. It held a single inch of remaining candle. Fury filled him as he looked around the chamber to find other tasks that had been left undone while he was away. His temper flared into a full blaze and he did nothing to check it. The slim form of his wife lying in the bed only added more fuel to his anger.

His wife would never go without…not while he drew breath.

She stirred, reaching out for him. A lump formed in his throat as she frowned when her fingers found nothing but cool sheets. Her eyelids fluttered and she looked for him, searching the bed while a worried look took control of her face.

It was the most haunting expression he’d ever seen. That look of longing…for him. The lack of comforts in the chamber became personal as he watched her shake the remains of slumber away to look for him. It was the thing he’d coveted when seeking a wife but the reality was far more precious than he’d imagined.

She was reaching for him.

Gone.

Anne tried to keep a whimper behind her lips but failed. She sat up and looked across the chamber to find Brodick watching her. Relief pulsed through her and there was no hiding the smile that turned her lips up.

Brodick frowned at her.

“Why are there no candles?”

Anne looked away from his keen stare. She didn’t want to sully the name of his household. She’d hoped that he’d leave at dawn giving the servants a chance to right the chamber.

It would seem that no one at Sterling was lucky this morning.

“It is nothing to worry about.”

Stepping from the bed, she hurried into her clothing, fighting off a queasy stomach. Worry was filling her belly with nausea so thick, she had trouble keeping it down. She reached for some of the bread left on the vanity without thinking about it. Moving the cloth she’d wrapped it in aside, she pulled off a piece, desperate to calm her belly.

“Have ye been supping here as well? On naught but stale bread? Little wonder yer face is thin.” He sounded deadly now. “Where’s Helen? I’ve a few questions for her.”

Anne lifted a hand to feel her face. Her cheekbones were more pronounced.

“Aye, madam, you’ve lost a stone if I’m nae mistaken.” He moved toward the door and pulled it open.

“Helen!”

His voice bounced around the lower tower.

“She is not here. Her daughter gave birth the night you left. You mustn’t be cross. Family is very important. I do not begrudge her the time.”

Brodick turned a hard glare on her. “Then where is Ginny? There’s maids a plenty in Sterling. Helen would nae have left without assigning the duty to another. She’s served at Sterling for too many years for such a lapse.”

“I do not need pampering.”

“Pampering?” Anger flickered in his eyes. “Nae even the stable lads endure without warmth and light in this castle. Did ye tell Ginny to leave ye without?”

Brodick didn’t wait for her answer. She was still closing her doublet when he shook his head in disapproval.

“I dinnae care, she should never have listened to ye if ye did command her to do such a foolhardy thing. ’Tis nae warm enough at this time o’ year to be without a fire on the second floor. Ginny knows Sterling better than ye. There be nae reason for such an oversight. Ye were shivering last night.”

He was out the door before she knew his intention. Pushing her body after him, she frantically tried to think of a way to dissuade his anger. Yelling at his people would not endear her to them. She refused to be like Philipa receiving false respect while the gossips griped about her in the kitchen.

“My lord, it takes time for acceptance to grow. You must not be cross.”

He stopped on the main floor of the tower, turning to look at her, aghast by her words.

“What? There is no question of acceptance. Yer my wife.” He paused for a moment, trying to regain his composure. His temper looked frayed. “Tis nae that I do not value yer opinion, but this be a matter of yer health, madam. I’ll nae be told to ignore it. I’d be cross if I discovered the young lads in the smithy enduring such. Discovering my wife huddled in a surcoat in her own bed is cause for far more.”

“Yet I have told you that I am not frail and I am English. The surcoat kept me warm, I was not without comforts. Do understand there are a great many years of distrust between our people.”

He stiffened as though fighting to regain his composure and not shout. A muscle on the side of his jaw ticked.

“I’m nae the one to be understanding, and ye, my sweet wife, will nae shelter anyone who’s behaved shamefully while I’m away protecting this castle.”

He captured her hand. This grip was very different from the one he’d used to pull her out of the stable. Her hand was a caged prisoner in his larger one. He tugged her along with him, her feet hurrying to keep pace with his longer strides. At the entrance to the eating hall, his cousin Druce stood watching them approach, a frown on his lips.

“My lord, there are many other matters that are more important.”

Brodick froze, his shoulders stiffening. His head turned to catch his cousin in his sights.

“Hold onto my wife, Cousin. I’ve a few issues to sort out with my staff.”

“Brodick…”

He pressed her into his cousin’s embrace, a hard look on his face. It was the sort of anger that she’d known he would have in him if he was ever crossed. That thing that she feared would be cast unto her when he discovered her true identity.

“Yer too kind, Wife, for yer own good. I’ll nae tolerate such from any member of this house. Nor will I have ye use my name to wheedle me into bending when I have good reason to quarrel.”

“Tolerance is a virtue that brings many rewards.”

Brodick shot a stern look at Druce. “Hold her here. I’ll deal with her when I’ve finished with my staff.”

Brodick didn’t wait for a response as he turned in a tightly contained motion of lean strength. Fury radiated from him as he shouted for Ginny.

Anne stepped after him only to have Druce grip her upper arms. She turned an incredulous look on him, having to look up to see the man.

“Release me, sir.”

“Now dinnae go getting all flustered. Ye heard the man.” The large Scot gave her a stern look but she found that it didn’t impact her in the same manner Brodick’s displeasure did. All Druce stirred in her was temper.

“I said, release me.”

Druce pressed his lips into a tight line. “Nae. Yer to stay right here and dinnae make me sit on ye. I dinnae need to fight with my cousin because he thinks I’ve handled ye roughly.”

Anne growled for the first time in her life. Every bit of self discipline deserted her as she heard a crash from inside the eating hall. She rounded on Druce in a ball of fury.

“I am not going to stand here arguing with you while Brodick sets down what is best for me. I’ll be the judge of what I need.”

It was a bold statement. Druce frowned, clearly thinking her daft.

“The man is yer husband.”

“Very newly so. He does not know my strengths and he never will if I allow him to whip every maid for not lavishing me with comforts. I assure you, I can endure as well as every one of them.”

Anne gave a hard shrug, but Druce stubbornly retained his hold on her arms.

“I am warning you, sir. Release me now.”

“Nae.”

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

Brodick held onto his control but it was not easy. Ginny offered him a stubborn, defiant look that wasn’t sorry a bit. The maids lined up beside her, clearly supporting her behavior. He’d known to expect it but was still stunned by the open animosity shining on their faces. If his bride were a mean-spirited woman, he might understand. He aimed his first comment to the cook, who was also staring straight at him without reservations.

“I’d never suspect ye to be so hard-hearted. Ye’ve daughters of yer own who’ll be marrying soon.”

Bythe flinched, not because he shouted, but because his voice was so soft. Most of the maids shifted, faltering in their determination to remain unmoved. A few even cast their eyes at the floor.

“The lot of ye should consider what it must be like to marry so far from home with nae a single familiar face in sight. She didnae even bring a maid but I’m thinking that was a miscalculation on my part. I thought that surely Sterling staff were worthy of taking care of its mistress without an English maid being set above ye all.”

More than one face turned pale. Brodick had no pity for them. “Ye’ll be telling me the reason behind such disrespect. Was my wife…difficult?”

Some of the younger girls looked toward Bythe and Ginny for leadership. The two senior women held their tongues.

“I’ll discover the truth of this matter and I will know it today.” Scanning the line of uniformed girls who all drew pay from his coffers, he pointed at one.

“Mogen, tell me what prompted there to be no service. If ’twas by my wife’s dictate, say so.”

“That will solve nothing, my lord.”

His wife strode into the kitchen, stiff pride shining in her eyes.

“I told you to keep her in hand.” Brodick glared at his cousin, wondering just when his life had turned inside out.

Druce scowled at the sweet smile Brodrick’s wife cast toward him. He lifted his finger and pointed at her.

“She bit me.”

“Christ in heaven! Is there no one left in this castle who recalls I’m the lord here?”

“Berating your staff will not change how they truly feel, my lord.”

Brodick stared at her, a crease appearing in the middle of his forehead. “And what do ye mean by that?” He kept his voice tightly controlled but she heard his frustration straining against his control.

“I might have dressed them down myself, if that was the answer.”

His expression became guarded. “So why didn’t ye?”

Opening her hands, Anne shook her head. “It is not my way to order others to like me, my lord. I prefer to be judged by and on my own merits. Be it to the good or ill. I do assure you that I am strong enough to survive without a fire or candles. The spring sun is warm and bright and I am not so dim-witted as to not fetch my own surcoat when night falls.”

He stared at her again, admiration crossing his eyes. Seeing it on his face humbled her, but it also stiffened her resolve.

“It is not necessary to worry about me so greatly. As Agnes told you, I am healthy.”

Brodick swung around to fix Bythe with his attention once more.

“Explain yer dislike, woman.”

The cook stiffened, her eyes narrowing. “Ye said she tried to poison ye. Right at the table. Plenty heard it. Wife or no wife, ye be my lord and my loyalty is to ye.”

“Are ye daft?” Druce sounded ready to drag the cook to Bedlam himself. “She may be English but I’ve nae seen evidence of a sinister bone in her body.”

“She bit you.”

Druce shook his head before he laughed. The sound was loud, shaking the copper lids hanging on the wall between the ovens.

“That’s nae sinister. It makes me cousin a damn lucky man, to have that fire in the lass as he does.”

There was a touch of heat in Druce’s voice that made Anne stare at him. The large Scot sent her a smug look that drew a snort from Brodick. Druce shrugged at his cousin.

“Can’t blame a man for noticing. Seeing as how ye put her into me arms yerself.”

“Now don’t you start telling me what I can’t be taking offense at. I’ve got enough o’ that at the moment.”

Brodick turned his attention back to Anne. His jaw was tight as he battled the urge to deal with the maids the way he wanted to. Anne wanted none of it.

“Be at peace, my lord. There are some things that should never be ordered. I prefer to earn my loyalty. A few weeks is nothing compared to the true value of knowing that each bit of respect shown to me is truly meant.”

There was more than one gasp from the row of maids. Bythe looked confused.

“Ye said it in front of all, my lord, refusing to eat. I heard the tale from twenty different men and women.”

“She didnae try to poison me but it is possible the woman means to drive me mad.” He shook his head but raised a dark eyebrow. “She was cooking under yer own nose. Are ye telling me that ye dinnae know what’s going on in this kitchen?” He pointed to the ring of keys attached to the cook’s belt. “Are ye so careless with those that anyone might get into the herbs without yer permission?”

Bythe covered her lips with a hand that shook. Brodick scanned the rest of the maids.

“Did it nae cross any one of yer minds that there would have been witnesses a plenty to such a deed? Or am I to assume that such harmful herbs are kept unlocked?”

Blythe’s face turned red, one hand covering the ring of keys hanging from her belt. Being the cook meant she was charged with the costly herbs that served as flavoring and as ease for ailments. No one took such costly, hard to come by things without her unlocking the small drawer they were kept in. The keys were the symbol of her position at Sterling; they never left her sight. Her mouth opened but no words made it past her horrified lips. Anne turned her back on it all. More certain than ever that her guilt showed.

She was not worthy of Brodick’s defense. It was a solid truth that she was doing something harmful to him. Stealing the dowry that he had invested so much effort into securing with her father. Two years of work that she would not bring him the reward of. She was convinced that God was working through the staff to force her to confess.

Her stomach heaved, the guilt making her sick. Anne ran from the eating area before she lost everything in her belly.

“The mistress has been very kind to me.”

Brodick turned to stare at the single voice raised in praise of his wife. Coming through the doorway, young Enys used her hands to feel her way.

“Why do ye say that?”

Enys tilted her head towards him, lowering her head as if she could see him looking at her.

“The mistress has spent many days helping me spin. She does the things I don’t have the sight for and she’s a good carder. One who doesn’t quit when the hours grow long.”

He was suddenly tired, more fatigued than he could ever recall being. The wall of hatred between Scotland and England looked near impossible to scale. His wife had been sitting in the spinning room instead of taking control of Sterling. Yet she had not been lazy. He didn’t know what to make of it.

He might be lord of the castle and of the land but it didn’t seem to lend him any weight in this battle. That angered him. But it was not the sort of emotion that had sent him into the kitchen, ready to thrash a few maids.

It was a deep rage against injustice toward his wife. He wanted to spare her the ill will between their countries. The hope to unite that had seen him negotiating with her father was struggling to survive amidst the animosity. The woman he’d looked forward to returning home to was worth more than quick judgment.

“No one of us chooses our parents. I’m disappointed in the lot of ye. Sterling has nae ever been such an unjust place as I find it today.”

He left. Druce followed him, the other man looking as confused as he felt.

“What man ever understood the way a woman thinks?”

Brodick wasn’t able to shrug off the problem so simply. “Why would she sit in the spinning room instead of taking her place as mistress of Sterling?”

Druce frowned. “Are ye sure ye want to become suspicious of her again, Cousin? That didnae do so well for ye before.”

“It doesnae make sense.”

And even if Druce was right, there was no stopping the suspicions that clouded his thinking. Mary was hiding something. He was sure of it.