She nodded and turned away; he heard her let out the air in her lungs. Before he could say anything else, she faced him once more.
“How can you marry me when you know the sin I carry on my soul? Will I not damn you as well with the evil inside me?” She stood motionless, waiting for his answer.
“And how can ye marry me wi’out kenning mine?” He reached over for her hands and was pleased when she did not pull away from his grasp. “We are all sinners, Anice. And we all try to make our way in this world. ’Tis the trying that I think matters the most to the Almighty.” And he would pray that she never discovered his deception or his dishonest desires for her and what she offered. She simply bowed her head for a moment and then lifted her hands from his.
“What did ye hide from me in yer pocket?” He suspected but wanted her to tell him.
Anice stopped where she was and slipped her hand inside the pocket and drew out an object. A small dagger. It was an eating knife, but she planned another use for it. She would not meet his eyes.
“Have ye decided no’ to, then? Am I the lesser of two evils?”
“’Twas all I thought about most of the day, Rob. At one point, I even decided to carry out the deed before your return. But I could not go through with it.”
“Why no’?” He needed to know what stopped her.
“I realized that the Almighty had saved my life twice and mayhap I should not be questioning his gift. And”—she looked up and met his gaze—”I trusted you to find another way.”
This was a good sign to him. She trusted him. The ordeal of the next several days would be a bit easier now that he knew.
“Faither Cleirach would hear yer confession, if ye so desired, before the vows.”
“I thank you for your consideration. I will think on it.”
He turned and looked at the babe, sleeping peacefully on the pallet next to her. “Ye should get some rest. We need to leave at first light if we want to be at Dunbarton by the evening.”
She looked as though she would argue with him or ask another question, but she stopped and nodded. He turned and wandered over to the table, purposely keeping his back to her to grant her some measure of privacy as she prepared to join her son on their bedding. Wrapping the remainders of the food tightly in cloth, he stored everything away for the night. He gathered his plaids and spread them out in front of the door and, seeing that Anice was settled, blew out the candle remaining alight.
Soon, the sounds of the night filtered into the croft and Robert felt himself closer to sleep. Her voice broke into the quiet.
“Why do you do this, Robert? Why saddle yourself with a wife who does not want to be one?”
He clenched his teeth shut and fought not to let words pass his lips that would show him for the fool he’d been already this night. They were there, at the ready, the words, the declaration that would change everything that stood between them. He swallowed several times and then came up with a response he thought was suitable.
“I have my reasons, Anice. Dinna be concerned about them now.”
Robert waited for her to question him. He almost wished it to see if the spirit he’d seen in her earlier was true. Part of the reason he did this was so that he would never have to look upon that expression of desperation and fear on her face again. If nothing else came of this exercise in madness, he would be pleased with the results of his gamble.
21
She was once more a married woman. In spite of her promises to herself and her attempts to prevent it, she was now under the power of one man. She shivered and looked ahead at her husband, whose stallion led the way down the road to the village and keep of Dunbarton. Robert had helped her onto the saddle, then gained his own seat and taken off at a brisk trot; her pony could do nothing but follow along behind. She felt just as her mount must—out of control and out of sight.
Robert said it would take a few hours to ride back to the village. Her bottom told her that it had been long enough without a break but she hesitated to call out to him. The easygoing disposition that he’d displayed to her while living in Dunnedin was gone and an irritable, grunting man had replaced him. She remembered similar complaints from women she knew who’d married, but never dreamed the transformation took such little time.
Mayhap she did release a groan for he turned in the saddle and looked back at her, lifting his hand to block the sun’s light while studying her without a word. Anice tried to smile demurely at him. She was not successful for he turned his horse and approached her slowly.
“If ye can make it awhile longer, ye can take yer ease in the comforts of Duncan’s keep.”
Rather than saying the rude words that perched on her tongue, she simply nodded to him.
“Is the bairn well?” He brought his horse side by side with hers and peered into the carrier she’d fashioned once more to carry the babe without using her hands. For some reason, her skin tingled as he stared past her breasts and at her son. Hebegan to reach inside the sling as if to touch his head and she leaned back and out of his reach. His gaze moved to hers in a questioning expression.
“He sleeps now. ’Tis easier to manage him this way while traveling.”
“I did but seek to check him, no’ to wake him.” He directed his mount away from her and turned to lead her once more.
“Robert,” she called out softly to him.
“’Tis well, Anice. We are both exhausted and out of sorts from the last few days. ’Twill be much easier for all of us when we reach the keep. Come.” He motioned her to follow with a wave of his hand. She allowed her pony to trot along behind his the rest of the way without comment or complaint.
