“I am a MacKendimen, Struan. How can ye do this to me? Have I not done everything ye asked of me? I nearly lost my life twice for ye and this clan. How can ye...?”
“Shush now, lass. There is plenty of time to think this through and come to accept the wisdom of yer elders. The babe will be well taken care of. I will protect him and raise him as I did his faither.”
“You will, Struan?” She turned and paced back and forth. “Will ye raise him to be the monster his father was? One who must be sent away in order to protect those in the clan? One who ends up dead in the mud with an arrow in his back?”
She gasped as she finally looked at Struan; his expression had turned to stone with her accusations. Struan staggered towards her and she thought her life was over. Pure rage filled his face and he raised one hand and he grabbed her blouse with the other, pulling her closer. She threw up her hands to protect herself but the blow never came.
They stood frozen there for what seemed like an eternity. She closed her eyes and could hear the wheezing breaths in his chest as he regained control of his temper. Finally, he released her and she stumbled backwards and onto the floor. Getting up on her knees, she crawled to where he stood and touched hisboots.
“Please, Struan. Do not let my father do this. I beg ye for sanctuary here. As the mother of yer heir, I beg ye for help.” She rubbed at her eyes and pushed her hair back from her face. “Please, Struan, please let me stay.”
She felt his hands encircle her arms, pulling her to her feet. Once she had regained her balance, he let go and moved away.
“Ye are the only heir to the MacNab and the king himself haes given permission for yer faither to pursue this new alliance. I wouldna oppose ye if ye asked, and the MacLaren and his heir agreed, to keep the bairn with ye for some months after ye marry. If it will help ye settle in a bit easier, ’tis the least I can do for ye.”
Stunned by the cruelty he offered as aid, she simply turned and walked away. Completely unable to accept any of it, she stumbled through the great room and up the stairs to her chambers. Iseabel, her new maid, stood as she entered and began to prattle about the babe. Anice did not stop her but did not hear her words either. Her mind was racing with too many emotions to listen to inane chatter. Her life was at stake once more and she needed to figure out a way to thwart these arrangements of her father’s.
Finally, she took the babe in her arms and ordered Iseabel out of the rooms. Anice placed him up on her shoulder and walked to the window. Rocking back and forth, she just held on to him and searched her mind for a way out of this. But, as Struan had reminded her many, many times these last few months, she was a woman and not the one to make decisions about what happened to her or anyone else in the clan. Even her son, the one who almost cost her her life, was not hers. He was a MacKendimen, under the authority of the laird of his clan.
And she was a woman, under the authority of whichever man claimed her, be it father or husband. She should know her place.
17
He was being followed. He was certain of it now. The hairs on the back of his neck had started tingling just before sundown and now as he set up his camp for the night, he knew what that sign meant. As he watered Dubh in a stream off the path, he thought about what he would do.
Stars already filled the clear summer sky as he found a sheltered place where his horse could graze. Robert hobbled him with the reins and prepared a plain meal of oatcakes and cheese from the supplies he’d brought with him from Dunnedin. There was an abundance of food available in the forests and glens of both the MacKendimen and the MacKillop land and neither laird begrudged his people the use of those resources. He could have tracked and killed any number of small birds and game, but he had no interest in working that hard for his meal. A few oatcakes and he could retire until morning.
Well, he could have if he had not caught sight of movement far behind him on the path. Now he would need to discover who was following him. This far off the drovers’ lanes, he did not expect to find any of the clan or their cattle. Most were still in the summer grazing lands to the west of Dunnedin and would not return until the summer was done. Brodie’s men had just traveled to one of the temporary villages carrying supplies meant to last those who watched over the cattle the rest of the season.
Robert ate his meager meal and waited for the moon to hang lower in the sky to cover his movements through the woods. Soon, he checked his weapons and, with sword in hand, began stealthily creeping through the trees. Careful not to makenoise, he made his way for many yards until he saw a small Highland pony tied to a tree. Searching nearby, he saw a figure on the ground, tucked beneath the branches of a low tree and rolled in plaid. In the dark, he could not make out anything more of the person or the plaid. Unfortunately, he lost the element of surprise that should have been his when he stepped on a large branch and the crunching crack of it breaking traveled through the night.
He froze and waited to find out if his shadow had also heard the noise. The quick movement of the figure assured him that his mistake was heard. With a mumbled curse, the figure jumped up and, still wrapped in the length of wool, ran off towards the path. Robert followed, cursing his stupidity under his breath. Within a few strides, he had caught up with his quarry and grabbed for the tartan material that now dragged behind. The person lurched and went down, first on their knees and then, with a muffled cry, they stumbled onto the ground.
It was the babe’s cry that shocked him. Robert stood, his mouth open in disbelief, listening to the squealing infant. He approached from behind and used the point of his sword to prod the person. When they did not move, he used his booted foot to turn them over. Even in the dim light, he knew Anice’s face. And he knew Craig’s cry, which now grew in volume and strength. Kneeling beside her still form, he lifted the babe from his place within his mother’s embrace, placed him up on his own shoulder, and then he checked Anice.
A bruise already swelled on her forehead; she must have hit her head on the ground or a rock as she tumbled. Seeing how she had cushioned Craig’s fall, he knew that had been her concern. He tapped her cheek but she did not respond. He sat back on his heels and tried to figure out what had happened.
Why in God’s holy name was she following him in the forest? Why was she camped out here, with her bairn, alone, this far from Dunnedin? None of this made sense and until she regained consciousness, none of it would. The babe finally quieted, sucking lightly on his thumb. When he had fallen back to sleep a few minutes later, Robert laid him carefully next to Anice on the ground. He traced his path back to her resting spot and gathered the few belongings he could find and led herpony back to her.
Checking to make certain the babe slept, Robert placed a blanket over the horse’s back. He found the sling she used to carry the bairn and put it around his neck as he’d seen her do. Once everything was ready, he lifted Anice from the ground and laid her over the horse, adjusting her as best he could. Then he placed the babe within the cocoon of plaid and led the pony back to his own camp.
Walking slowly so that she wasn’t jostled, it took a while to reach it. Once there, he spread his own plaid on the ground and laid the babe once more on it. Lifting Anice carefully off the pony, he cushioned her head as he laid her beside the bairn. He found his waterskin and tore a piece of a linen shirt in his bag to clean her forehead. The swelling concerned him, as did her lack of response when he tried to rouse her from her stupor. Doing what he could to help her, he realized he would have to wait for his answers, for he could think of no reason that would force Anice into the forest at night with her son.
The chill grew stronger and the babe began to stir in his place on the ground. Robert knew he needed to keep both mother and son warm so he tucked another blanket over Anice and lay the babe close to her. Taking a place on the other side of the babe, he moved closer to them, sharing the warmth of his own body. His stallion nickered and then settled, now content with the pony’s position nearby. Soon, the only sounds were those of the forest surrounding them and the soft breathing noises of Anice and her son. Sleep would not come to him, so Robert lay watching and listening until the sun broke over the horizon.
He did not knowwhich woke him first, the wetness that pooled on his chest or the smell of the liquid that now seeped into his shirt. Mayhap it was neither of those, but the screeching sound the bairn made in his ear when he too felt the uncomfortable coldness due to peeing in his napkin. Whichever it was, it brought Robert’s short time of rest to an abrupt end. He rolled away and lifted the soggy babe away from Anice,hoping to keep her dry. Standing, he knew he needed to change the linens, but really had no idea how to do it. He found Anice’s bag and searched until he found some dry ones and another gown.
He moved quickly to get the babe warm and dry and then pulled off his own soaked shirt. Tugging a fresh one from his saddlebags and pulling it on, he picked up and held the little one in his arm. Moving off a bit from where Anice lay, still apparently senseless, he lifted the edge of his shirt and relieved himself in the bushes.
“Ye see, wee one? ’Tis much easier to lift yer kilt and piss on the ground.” Robert laughed for a moment at the babe’s disgruntled expression. “Ye will learn soon enough to stand and do this rather than soiling yer own clothes.” Finished, he carried the babe back towards Anice. “’Twill be much easier when ye wear but plaid and shirt and no’ these gowns and linens.”
The babe met his gaze with one of serious study and Robert laughed once more in amusement. This was the first look he’d had at Craig since that day in the yard and the babe had grown considerably since then. What had Anice called him? Oh, aye. Piglet. And that’s what he looked like with his plump cheeks and belly. The tuft of hair that stood straight up on his head gave claim to his mother’s coloring. Tired of staring at him, the babe began searching for his hand and the wet sucking noises warned Robert of his next impending problem. How and what would he feed the bairn?
He walked back over to where Anice lay and sat down next to her. Taking advantage of the babe’s fascination with his own fists, Robert tapped her gently on the cheek. She had not moved much at all through the night, but her breathing now changed and she began mumbling words he could not understand. Calling her name, he tried to rouse her.
“Anice? Anice? Ye must wake now. Come now, Anice, Craig is hungry and needs ye.”
The mention of her son’s name seemed to work, for her eyes fluttered and then opened. At first her gaze was empty but then she blinked several times, focusing on the trees above her. A loud groan filled the air as she reached for and felt the largelump on her head. Then her complexion turned ghastly and she began to gag. He helped her to sit up quickly, knowing just what was happening. Holding her shoulders, he supported her as her stomach reacted violently to her head injury. Robert had seen this many times when a man was knocked out while fighting. Dizziness and vomiting usually followed as soon as the person awoke. Anice was suffering the same. When it subsided, he guided her back to the blanket.
