True Love Brides 02 - The Highlander’s Curse (17 page)

“I shall send word to Alexander in the morning,” he said, forming a plan to ensure that Annelise was kept safe. He wondered whether Isabella would be easier to convince than her sister. “Until we hear back, I ask you to be polite to Orson and feign, at least once in a while, that his attentions are not unwelcome.”

Annelise sighed. Then she nodded agreement.

“Promise me that you will comply.”

Annelise sighed. “I vow that I shall try.” She looked up at him, resolve in her gaze. “I do not wish to jeopardize Kinfairlie or any soul there, but I will not wed against my own choice. I will do my best to wait until you have a response from Alexander.”

Murdoch nodded agreement. With that steel in Annelise’s spine, he knew better than to expect more. He only hoped it would be enough.

*

Although Murdoch sounded most reasonable, Annelise did not believe he understood her older brother that well. Kinfairlie at risk? It could not truly be so. Alexander cornered? She could not believe it. Alexander had become very good at balancing the powers that surrounded his holding and ensuring that his suzerainty was not compromised.

At root, she could not believe that Alexander would insist she wed Orson Douglas to ensure an alliance, not when he had promised that she could wed the man of her own choice. She could believe that he might have sent Orson this way, just in case Annelise found the knight appealing, but her choice was made and Alexander would support it. He would find another way to sate the earl, even if Murdoch’s notion was correct.

Alexander would never force her hand. In addition, she did not trust Orson Douglas. There was something dark within him, something that did not bode well for any soul beneath his hand. She saw the way his squire cowered when Orson was irked with him and had not missed the flash of fear in the boy’s eyes. She did not like that Orson thought a wife accused of deceit should be burned, without being granted the chance to explain herself, or that a half-blood child could be dismissed and forgotten.

He would not suit her well.

In fact, she disagreed with Murdoch’s strategy. The longer she remained in Orson’s company, the more fixed he would become upon her. In a fortnight, he might not be swayed to abandon her, no matter what Alexander said.

The sooner she left him behind, the sooner he would hie himself away after another biddable bride of suitable family.

And the sooner she could find Garrett. Annelise knew what she desired, and she was prepared to ensure that it was hers. She would find Garrett and take him to Kinfairlie. There they would appeal to Alexander, and Annelise knew her brother would not break his vow to her.

She would not be troubled by doing what Murdoch did not desire. She had pledged to do her best, not to follow Murdoch’s bidding precisely.

Annelise was resolved.

After speaking with Murdoch, Annelise returned briefly to the board and gave every indication of following Murdoch’s advice. She laughed at Orson’s comments, as if she indeed found him amusing and noted how Murdoch watched her response. Then she feigned exhaustion, beginning a steady campaign of yawns of increasing vigor.

When Orson suggested she might retire, she thanked him profusely for his consideration, then climbed the stairs as if she might not manage to make it to her bed. She dismissed her maid at the bottom of the stairs, using her apparent exhaustion to keep from arousing the girl’s suspicion, and climbed to her chamber alone.

She felt Orson watch her until she was out of view.

At the summit of the stairs and out of view, Annelise made a remarkable recovery. She stepped into her chamber quickly, planning as she closed the door behind herself. She packed a bag with haste, certain she would not return. She would wear one chemise to bed and folded her second-best one into the bag, along with a thicker kirtle. She had her heavy cloak and would wear her boots rather than the embroidered slippers she wore in the hall. She had a good sturdy pair of gloves, too. A second pair of stockings would ensure that she was not cold at night, although she doubted Garrett would let her become chilled.

Annelise smiled at the memory of his kisses and the heat that had flooded through her body at his touch. She felt warm inside at the prospect of intimacy ahead and knew all would be well. She rubbed the wolf pelt against her cheek, then jammed it into the bag as well. Her eating knife was the only thing she possessed that resembled a weapon, so she would have to take it. She left her bit of jewelry and her embroidery on the table, as if she meant to return to them the next morning. She had only just concealed the bag beneath her cloak when the door to her chamber was flung open.

Isabella smiled from the doorway. Her hair was unbound and she wore her only her chemise, a lantern in her hand. “Still awake?” she asked brightly, although it was clearly so.

“Indeed. Although only just. I am so very tired,” Annelise lied. In truth, her heart was pounding in anticipation of what she would do. “Is something amiss?”

“I am so restless with the babe each night that I fear I keep Murdoch awake,” Isabella said with an elaborate yawn. “I shall sleep with you instead and give the man one night of peace at least.” She advanced into the chamber, shutting the door behind herself, her smile unwavering. “It will be like old times. We shall giggle and gossip and be awake nearly until morning.”

Annelise bit back a smile at her sister’s concocted tale. The truth was that Isabella could sleep anywhere at anytime. She slept longer and more deeply than any of Annelise’s sisters and could scarce be roused in the morning when she wished to linger abed—which was virtually every day.

Annelise did not doubt that Murdoch had sent Isabella to watch her.

She closed the shutters against the chill of the evening, noting that dark clouds were gathering. It would rain during the night, which would obscure the trail of her departure. Perfect.

Annelise gave no indication of her thoughts as she brushed her hair and braided it. “You are, of course, welcome to stay, but I doubt I will be good company,” she said, then yawned again. “You could dance on the pallets and I would still slumber.”

Isabella gave her a sharp look, but Annelise calmly tied the lace on her braid. She snuffed the candles and laid down on her pallet, closing her eyes immediately and sighing with contentment. “What a long day this has been,” she murmured sleepily.

Isabella hovered over her with her lantern. “You do not wish to talk for a bit?”

“About what?”

“Garrett the hunter.” Isabella dropped to the pallet beside Annelise. When Annelise looked, her sister’s eyes were dancing with curiosity. “Murdoch said you were kissing him in the goat pen today.”

“He kissed me.”

“And?”

“It was most pleasant.” Annelise rolled over and nestled into the bed, as if fighting off slumber.

“Yet he has left Seton Manor at Murdoch’s insistence. You must be annoyed with my husband, if not more.”

Annelise shook her head and yawned again. “Nay. Murdoch speaks good sense. He explained all to me after the evening meal. What life would I have in the forest with a man who has naught to his name? Perhaps I should be happier pledged to a knight.” She felt her sister staring at her and dared to push her deception a little more. “Orson is very handsome, is he not? It must cost a great deal of coin to keep such a horse and to be so finely garbed.”

Isabella’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you looked most bored when he was talking to you.”

“I was told once that feigning disinterest would encourage a man to try harder in his suit.” Annelise stole a glance at her sister. “It must be true, for Orson was very determined to entertain me.”

Isabella watched Annelise, her expression thoughtful. Then she glanced around the chamber. “What happened to the wolf pelt?”

Annelise shuddered. “It smelled. I gave it to Bess, for she liked it well. I don’t think she could smell it, although it was most awful.” She sighed as she let her eyes closed. “I suppose one could not expect Orson to know how best to cure a pelt.”

Isabella’s voice sharpened. “You said Garrett killed the wolf.”

Annelise shrugged as if indifferent. “Maybe it was a different wolf. Maybe I erred. Whoever cured this pelt did not know his craft, and I would think a hunter would have been skilled in that labor.”

At that, Annelise pretended to be falling asleep. She let her breathing deepen, well aware that Isabella was watching her closely. Finally Isabella extinguished the lantern and laid down on the pallet beside Annelise. The two sisters lay in the dark for long moments, even as Annelise heard the wind rise.

There was a storm coming.

But she would be safe with Garrett.

True to her tale, Isabella fidgeted for a while, tossing and turning as if she could not find a comfortable way to sleep. Annelise breathed steadily and deeply, praying her sister could not hear the thunder of her heart.

It seemed an eternity before Isabella’s breathing slowed, as well.

Annelise waited, listening to the creaking of the wooden manor in the night, its familiar sounds and rustlings. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Annelise thought about the story of the white wolf and its ending. She wondered why Andrew had chosen to tell that story. Was it because it featured the killing of wolves and he and Orson claimed to have done the same? Or was it a mere fiction, like the tales told of Ravensmuir and its laird who spoke to ravens? Perhaps he wished to show the rightful place of a wife in his reckoning, or to prompt a conversation between herself and Orson on the subject. Annelise felt there had been some collusion between the two knights, although she did not know why. It was a macabre tale, in her estimation, one that left her dissatisfied and troubled. She wished she could discuss it with Garrett.

And that was when she realized the import of what she had heard. The Fae could hear the thoughts of others, according to Andrew, and that had been the talent that had given Florine the ability to enchant Coinneach. She had been able to discern his every desire and anticipate his every objection. According to Andrew’s tale, even a child half-Fae would have some Fae ability.

Florine’s son had been blond with blue eyes.

Just like Garrett. Annelise nearly sat bolt upright at the realization. Had this been a tale about Garrett? Was the ability to hear others what ailed him when he entered Seton Manor? It made tremendous sense, for he had seemed to be in physical pain. Annelise was sorely tempted to leap out of her bed and find him, but she forced herself to wait.

Would he be able to find her, because of her thoughts?

She had to know.

Finally, Annelise could bear the waiting no longer. She eased out of her bed. Her heart was pounding and her palms were damp. She backed away from the pallet, her gaze locked on Isabella, and reached beneath the cloak for her dark kirtle. She tugged it on and laced it hastily, cast her cloak over her shoulders and donned her boots. She walked on the tips of her toes to the window, wincing when the shutter creaked a little. She glanced back at her sister before she cast her bag over the sill.

Isabella slept on.

Annelise blew her sister a kiss, swung her legs over the sill and hastened across the kitchen roof as silently as she could. Her heart was racing at her own audacity, but she was making her future her own.

Even as she fled, Annelise realized that boldness could prove to be a trait difficult to abandon.

*

As soon as Annelise had slipped out the window, Isabella opened her eyes. She bit her lip, praying that she had not erred. Thunder rumbled overhead and she rose to close the shutter. The sky was rolling with dark clouds, filled with such tumult that she watched the sky for a long moment. It reminded her of the storm that had broken when Murdoch had tried to escape the Elphine Queen.

She looked down into the yard and saw her sister’s fleeing figure and hoped she had chosen aright.

A faint sound had Isabella spinning in place. Had that been the door to the chamber? It was closed in this moment, but she crept across the room, listened, then opened the door. The corridor was empty, and once again, she believed her imagination had the best of her. The wood of the building merely creaked in the wind.

Isabella latched the door firmly just as there was a great crack of thunder. The clouds broke and rain began to pelt down on the roof. She wished the brazier had been lit on this night, for it was damp, but she did not want to return to Murdoch’s warmth. He would learn soon enough that Annelise had fled, and Isabella wanted her sister to have time to make her choice.

Isabella had need of more time to decide how much to confess to her husband, too.

*

As Garrett drew closer to Seton Manor, the thoughts of others grew louder in his thoughts. To his relief, the malice was diminished, perhaps because that person believed him to be gone. He listened as the sentries speculated about him, hearing the doubts in their thoughts as to his sanity. He stood in the shadows of the forest and listened to the tale that Andrew told. He could not hear Andrew’s voice, but he heard the knight’s words echo in the thoughts of those who listened, mingling with their questions, doubts and suspicions. The story might have been told by a chorus of voices, each slightly different, the result more chaotic than harmonious. Still, Garrett understood the gist of the tale and recognized its similarity with the one that Mhairi had told him.