cannot change.”
And if the man spoke one further word about wanting to court her while his mistress lived beneath the same roof, she was likely to hit him.
Anyon scoffed at her. “Don’t have a way? Another lie, not that I expect anything else from yer English lips.”
“I do not have a way to leave, and if you know otherwise I would appreciate you sharing the information with me.”
The Scottish girl smirked at her, obviously enjoying her moment of knowing that she possessed something that Jemma wanted to know.
“Well, speak up, I am listening.” Jemma refused to put up with the girl’s surly nature. Sometimes it was necessary to show that you were not meek if you did not wish to become the victim of those who enjoyed being nasty. “If all you are going to do is insult me, I was given a task to do by Ula.”
“Proving what a good little wife ye will be? Is that yer game, English slut?”
“Enough! I am not a slut, and you have no right to call
Anyon’s face turned red. “I am the laird’s mistress.” The girl growled each word. “Ye’d better understand something about Scotland, English slut; here even the king has been known to wed his mistress. Scottish men like to know what they are getting before they marry.”
“Well then, since I have no intention of showing your laird what he will get with me if we were to wed, you may go on your way, free of concern.”
“Prettily spoken, but those words do not change the fact that you are still here, doing Ula’s bidding while yer mare is standing idle in the stable.”
“What?” Jemma felt her face heat. The Scottish girl smirked at her, but Jemma wasn’t in the mood to be toyed with any further.
“Where is my mare?”
Anyon raised an eyebrow at her tone. “Listen to ye. Ye’d think ye were already the mistress of this castle, the way ye demand.”
Jemma cast a quick look toward the window. The light was now coming in at an angle, telling her that sunset was approaching. She feared the coming night because it would bring Gordon back to his fortress for certain, and she doubted her ability to resist him.
“If you want me gone from here, tell me where my mare is and how to leave this place.”
Anyon abandoned her taunting stance when she heard the determination in Jemma’s voice.
“Yer mare is in the back stable, the one closest to the gate. Saddle her if ye know how and no one will stop ye from taking what is yers and leaving.”
So simple. Jemma swallowed and fought the urge to sputter with outrage. Gordon had never said that her mare wasn’t in the stable. The man had cleverly avoided giving her that bit of information, and she had been too blinded by his presence to realize that she wasn’t asking a direct enough question.
“Well, are ye going? Or just spinning more lies?”
Jemma thrust the stack of sheets at the Scottish girl and didn’t wait to make sure Anyon took them. She relinquished her hold on them and turned her back on the woman. Urgency filled her, pushing her to quicken her pace. She resisted the warning that was trying to stop her. She had ridden every day for months; one bad encounter was not going to turn her into a quivering-kneed coward who hid behind the walls of a tower. Life was too full of wonderful things. Besides, she could feel Gordon. Actually feel the man tightening the circle he was walking around her. It wasn’t the man she was running from.
It was her response to him.
Most men had a mistress, and she would have to accept that from any husband she wed, but there was something inside her that wanted to scream at him for having one. It made no sense, so leaving was the only logical thing to do unless she wanted to risk going insane. There was no controlling her responses to him, and that frightened her.
There was still plenty of activity in the main yard. Boys were training under the supervision of older men. They wielded wooden swords, and the sound of those blades striking against each other echoed off the curtain wall. Women were hurrying to bring in the last of the drying laundry near the south side of the yard where huge water wheels lifted water from the river to pour through slots in the curtain wall. Men were stationed up on that wall, but their attention was on the horizon. The scent of roasting meat drifted to her nose. The cook had a deer roasting in one of the huge hearths that served the kitchen. She had been carving strips off it all day long so that the meat underneath would roast. What she cut was diced and combined with vegetables to be cooked into pies for supper. The Barras clan ate well, which was yet another indication of their power. Lesser clans would not cross them for fear that they could not appeal to them in the dead of winter when their own stores ran low. Alliances were most often based on need. Her own sister-in-law had been handed over to Gordon because her cousin wanted to prove his loyalty to the laird of the Barras clan.
Jemma scanned the yard once more, seeking any hint that she was being watched. But she didn’t find any. Everyone seemed intent on completing their tasks before the cook rang the supper bells. The older men training the boys were pushing their young charges to teach them perseverance.
Just as she needed to persevere.
Entering the stable, she slowed down and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. The smell of fresh hay and alfalfa filled her senses. The sunlight illuminated hundreds of dust particles floating in the warm air. Horses snorted and pawed at the floor. Jemma forced herself to move slowly among them. She reached out to rub a muzzle here and there, soothing the beasts before they alerted anyone to her presence. Her eyes were becoming more keen, able to distinguish colors in spite of the low light. It was not dark, merely dim. She scanned the stalls and smiled when her mare appeared. Standing near the back exactly as Anyon had said.
For all the insults the woman had thrown at her, Jemma decided she would have to think kindly of her for giving her the means to leave.
Lament rose up from inside her, but she refused to let it stop her. She reached for her saddle, making sure it
