“Expect more than I am due, Struan? We both ken the lie of those words. We both ken that I should expect and be due much more than yer willing to offer me.”
“Robert, no’ now. I canna argue this with ye now.” Struan waved him off and stepped to one end of the table.
“No, no’ now? Then when, Struan? We both ken that yehave no’ made any attempt to talk the truth of our bond in these many weeks since I arrived.” Robert approached him, knowing only that he had to confront his father. “Ye have allowed me to work for the clan, plan for it, prepare for its needs, and yet ye willna call me as one of yer own.”
He stood before Struan, arms on his hips, chest swelled out in anger and challenge as he waited for some acknowledgment. Struan pushed back the chair nearest him with such force that it fell backwards, crashing loudly on the wooden floor of the dais. The few men and women working in the hall paused in their chores and turned towards them. In spite of an audience, in spite of the rational part of him that screamed caution and calm, Robert forced his words out through gritted teeth.
“I... am... yer...”
“Brodie!” Struan interrupted. “Come quickly, for I have an important task for ye to do and it must be done with haste.” Waving at Brodie as he made his way to the front of the room, Struan whispered a warning to Robert. “In spite of yer beginnings and in spite of how highly ye have risen within the ranks of the MacKillops, ye ken ye have no place here. None then, none now. Dinna expect more or ye will face disappointment.”
If Struan had buried a sgian-dubh deep in his chest, the pain could not be worse. Robert staggered back a few steps and struggled to control his rage and hurt. His head spun with all the seething thoughts, and the urge to strangle Struan at that moment grew until he could almost not control it. He turned on his heels and ran full-tilt down the steps and past Brodie. If Brodie tried to say anything to him, he did not hear it, for the roar of anger filled his ears and his being.
Even the icy wind, still howling days after the storm had moved on, did not slow him, nor did his lack of a protective cloak. He needed to get away. He needed to get his anger under control for it did him no good. A ride would tire him but he dared not approach Dubh when his rage was this strong. Needing a place and time to sort out his thoughts and set up his plans and priorities, he trotted through the gate and towards the loch off in the distance.
His eyes burned but whether with tears caused by the icy gusts or by the blow from Struan, he did not know. Tilting his head down, Robert continued his run. Soon, the resistance of the wind and the freezing air slowed him to a walk. As his pace slowed his thoughts quickened.
Why had he even let himself believe for one moment that he could return to Dunnedin and his clan and be accepted? He was usually a man who displayed a good measure of common sense, but the rawness of his confused emotions overcame any attempt to think rationally about his father, and about his father’s refusal to acknowledge him.
Something else lay at the core of his feelings. Something darker and stronger than the need for recognition. Robert wanted... he wanted everything that his brother had. Everything his brother ignored through his absence and stupidity. He wanted the clan to know him as a member of the same MacKendimen blood. He wanted to take his rightful place as eldest son of the laird. He wanted to be accepted as tanist by the elders of the clan. And, if he were honest with himself, he wanted her.
Anice. His brother’s wife. But as usual, Sandy and his get would always stand between him and what he wanted most in his life.
His steps slowed and he took in deep breaths of the frigid air. His thoughts turned back to Anice. Did he want her simply because she was his brother’s wife? Did he covet her along with all that his brother owned? His brother’s position and status?
Yes. He did. He wanted everything that Sandy had. It should be his; he was older, he was better. He was here, carrying out many of the duties that should be Sandy’s. He even looked after his brother’s wife. And he wanted her for his own.
He’d seen many different aspects of Anice in these last months. She could be a strong woman in control of home and hearth one moment and a weakling needing succor the next.
Her green eyes could blaze with anger or lately even happiness, or look vulnerable and full of emotion. Robert had many times fought the urge to draw her close and comfort heror to offer her encouragement as the days of her pregnancy became more and more difficult to bear alone.
He realized that part of him wanted her for the woman she was and another part of him coveted her as his brother’s wife. Ironically, the very reason he wanted her was the very reason that would forever keep them apart—even if Sandy died, marrying her would be forbidden. She would be forever his sister-by-marriage if his true heritage were known. So a marriage between them would be sinful in the eyes of the church.
Robert let out a rough laugh at the quandary that existed for him. He wanted to be recognized as Struan’s son for all that he could gain rightfully as that and yet that recognition would put out of his reach the one thing he craved most in Dunnedin. Anice. His brother’s wife.
’Twas truly a situation where no good would come of his wanting. How many times did his hopes have to be crushed before he would give up and go back to Dunbarton? How many times could Struan ravage his dreams of a life among his own clan before he stopped opening himself up to the hurt? As a warrior he knew he could not win with this strategy. And he did not have enough strength to keep the wanting and desire for all his brother possessed within and not show it to those around him.
The chill finally seeped in and his skin erupted in goose-flesh. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Robert pulled the end of the plaid he wore from under his belt and threw it over his shoulders and head, gathering the edges close to keep out what cold he could. Looking about to gauge his location, he realized that his steps had taken him close to one who could offer him some solace no matter who his father was. And, with his innermost feelings in an uproar, he would seek the simplest of comforts in the arms and warmth of a willing woman. Following the well-worn path to her door, he knocked and waited for her welcome. Her smile as she opened her door confirmed that he could depend on Robena for a few hours of pleasure, pleasure he hoped would bring a certain measure of forgetfulness.
Later, as he buried his hardness within the warmth sheoffered and relinquished much of his frustration and desire, his thoughts still drifted to the one he could never have beneath him. The one whose name he almost called out as he reached his peak. The one whose haunted eyes begged for comfort and protection.
Anice. His brother’s wife.
12
Now the rains came—first in briefs bursts, then in torrents. The snow and ice washed away and was replaced by a deep layer of mud throughout the bailey and even into the village. She’d long since given up trying to make her way anywhere but in the keep. If she were honest, the weather gave her the excuse she thought she needed to spend most of her time curled up on her bed.
Oh, no one would comment directly to her, but the clans-people had become reticent about speaking to her. The many abbreviated conversations were obvious. Too many times lately, when she entered rooms or came upon people in hallways, their discussions would abruptly stop and only their stares would greet her. She searched her mind over and over for a reason or something she perhaps had done unintentionally to give insult, but she could remember nothing. So, ’twas easier for her to take refuge in her chambers and blame the pregnancy and the rains.
And just as she avoided most contact with them, none sought her out. Messages were passed through Firtha. Rarely in the last week had she seen either Struan or Robert, although Robert had tried to meet her in the workroom behind the great hall. The pains in her back had forced her to cancel that and a new time had not yet been chosen.
What was most confusing to her was the sense of fear that permeated the keep these last few days. A few times she had even seen glances of pity shared by some of the cleaning women when they were at work in her chamber. Pity? Mayhap because her time approached and they knew the pain and danger she faced. At first, that was exactly what she thought,but yesterday the expressions became even more blatant and she recognized the looks she was given. Definitely pity.
The need to walk a bit grew stronger so she maneuvered herself off the bed and slipped on some soft shoes that still fit her swelling feet. Treading carefully across the freshly laid rushes, she tugged open her door and quietly walked down the stairway to the main floor. She was not certain what she would do there once she arrived, but she knew that the workroom was her goal. It was late, almost midnight as near as she could tell, and the hallways were deserted, the great hall quiet and empty.
She pushed open the door and lit the lamp that sat on a high shelf in the wall. Glancing at the table, she saw that many papers had been left for her. Stretching first, she sat down and began to organize the work. In a few minutes, Anice found herself lost once more in the record-keeping needed for the clan.
“I thought ye haid forgotten our agreement these last days.” Robert’s voice broke into her concentration and she smiled.
