to King Henry as his ward, rather than her being a ward of the Scottish king when her uncle died so suddenly.
Exasperated, Anice sighed deeply.
Matilda patted her arm. “Marry whom His Grace wishes. You will learn to embrace the changes as I have done. Marriages are partnerships after all. Marrying for love...you will grow to love whomever you wed. As for Lord MacNeill, let him well enough alone, dear cousin.”
Anice curtseyed to Matilda as her cousin motioned for her ladies to return.
But Anice would not be thwarted. If the Highlander needed a bride and she needed a husband, the match seemed perfect. Well, almost. Mayhap she would not like his temperament so very much. Though the notion he would touch more than just her naked thigh with his large, gentle hands certainly appealed. What would they feel like holding her close? And what would it be like to kiss his smiling lips? There was only one way to find out.
With her heart beating hard, she hastened for the keep where the Highlanders had disappeared. She entered the great hall and ignored the roving eyes of two English knights.
Then she spied the great man and his equally large companions. Her heart skittered.
Laird MacNeill stood betwixt the other two, taller by an inch or so, his hair a richer brown, his eyes the same earthy dark color. The fourth man, a blond with a beard, was nowhere in sight. She turned her attention back to Laird MacNeill. A sensuous smile curved his mouth, forming dimples in his cheeks. But his gaze wasn’t focused on her. Instead, he eyed an English lady. The woman’s dark tresses were plaited down her front, but her hair wasn’t half as thick or long as Anice’s. She wanted to scream at the Highlander for making a fool of himself over the Englishwoman. Rogue .
The other Highlanders were fairer, their long hair fastened back. She folded her arms. Mayhap if Laird MacNeill were not interested in her, one of the other gentlemen would be.
As if the one had heard her thoughts, he turned and smiled at her. Well built despite his youth, his hair was the lightest brown of the three men, and a slight scar marred his otherwise smooth cheek. Before she could consider the other gentleman, the youngest quirked a brow to see her gawking at him. Instantly, her cheeks heated. She unfolded her arms and smoothed her wool gown. The slightest of smiles curved the corners of his mouth, then he tugged on Laird MacNeill’s sleeve.
In no way did she act appropriately. She had no maid attending her. Yet, she remained rooted to the stone floor like an oak, unwilling to yield while she contemplated how to approach the Highlanders.
They seemed as reluctant to breech protocol and stood their ground, though they commented freely to one another, smiling with undisguised admiration while she stood ogling them impolitely.
She lowered her lashes and considered the rushes littering the floor. Mayhap this wasn’t a good idea. Would they think her a brazen woman to...to wish to make their acquaintance? Aye, they would imagine her nothing but a common leman.
She wrung her hands suddenly conscious they were cold and clammy. She turned intent on taking a walk...anywhere but here where she was making a fool of herself.
Anice hoped the Highlanders, well one of them at least, would follow her outside so she could convince him to speak to the king on her behalf and solicit his agreement to return her home. But she heard no footsteps echoing her own and knew then her folly. She was dressed as a lady in exquisite garments, the blue wool the finest of cloth. So they would not think her a serving girl. But these men wanted more than power and money, or at least the tallest of the three...Laird MacNeill did. He wanted a lady of quality, but she had to be an English lady.
She stomped down the path to the herbal and vegetable garden outside of the kitchen. Hedge walls surrounded the rectangular