Annys stared at the tapestry she had been working on. It was not helping. She could not shake the memory of that heated kiss. She could still taste Harcourt on her mouth, still feel the heat he had stirred within her even though it had subsided to a soft glow. Unfortunately, as it had faded, guilt had once again raised its ugly, tormenting head.
It was a senseless guilt, she thought crossly. There had been no betrayal. She and Harcourt had done exactly what David had wanted them to do. Annys did not think she had ever seen anyone as delighted, as joyous, as David had been when she had birthed Benet. She may have broken one rule of the Church by lying with Harcourt while she was married to David, but she had obeyed her husband just as the Church advised all wives to do.
“And I was fruitful and multiplied,” she muttered.
“Weel, only the once.”
Startled by Joan’s voice coming from behind her, Annys turned to glare at her maid. “Ye shouldnae creep up on a person that way.”
“Sorry,” Joan said, not sounding at all sincere. “Still wrestling with yourself, are ye?”
“Joan, I broke the rules.”
“Only one and your husband ordered ye to do so.”
“He asked, nay ordered.”
“We both ken that David was verra good at making orders sound like requests so that ye couldnae say nay. He ordered ye to go with Harcourt because he wanted a bairn. That ye actually gave him a son only delighted him more. Do ye ken, when I could see how much he loved that child, I would begin to fear that he might try to find ye another stud.”
Annys gasped. “He wouldnae have done that.” The moment she uttered the denial, Annys found herself wondering if it was deserved.
“Aye, I can see that ye are now thinking on it. David couldnae give ye bairns. Wheesht, he could barely consummate the marriage. That was because of his own guilt or confusion as much as it was from his injury, I think. I dinnae think he was e’er able to forget that ye were intended to be his brother’s bride. He had kenned ye as Nigel’s promised wife for far too long to shake free of that idea just because Nigel was dead. But, e’en if he could have o’ercome that, he still couldnae have given ye any bairns. That jealous husband’s sword took all chance of that away, didnae it. So he came up with the plan to breed ye like some mare. We argued about it, ye ken.”
“Oh, Joan, nay, I didnae ken that.”
“Aye, but then I saw how ye and Harcourt looked at each other and decided a bairn from a mon ye truly wanted wasnae such a hardship for you.”
“I sometimes think that is why I often feel so guilty. It should have been a duty, nay a pleasure. Somehow the fact that there was pleasure made it all seem, weel, sinful.”
Joan grinned. “Aye, and I suspect the Church has a few rules about a lass feeling any pleasure in the arms of a mon, at least one who isnae a husband trying to breed his all-important heir.” She grew serious again. “And it was the knowledge that ye would enjoy yourself that made me shut my mouth. I believed ye should have that, at least once. David wasnae giving it to ye, couldnae, and at least once a lass should feel the fire. And now that ye are a widow, mayhap ye should be helping yourself to another taste.”
“’Tis too strong,” Annys said.
“Mayhap that is just because it has been too long with only memory to cling to.”
“I am sorely tempted despite the lingering guilt.”
“Yet ye hesitate.”
“I cannae explain weel. It consumes me and that is frightening. Mayhap it is just as ye said, a matter of having tasted it once and waiting too long to have another taste. Yet, e’en if I can brave that, o’ercome the guilt, and cease worrying so much about sin, there is still one thing that remains.”
“What would that be?”
“It hurt so much when he left. I kenned he had to. I kenned there was no future, that what we had was all we could have, but it still hurt.”
“And ye think he will ride away from ye again when this trouble ends?”
“He cannae stay, Joan.” Annys saw Joan frown and sighed. “He has a keep himself. He has kin close at hand there, people who depend on him to protect and provide. And I must stay here.”
Joan sighed. “I suppose ye must. There really isnae anyone else to put in your place, nay who can hold Benet’s inheritance safe for him.”
“Nay, there isnae. I certainly wouldnae trust a MacQueen to do that. So, whate’er I decide to do, in the end, Harcourt must ride away again.”
Joan patted her on the shoulder. “Mayhap ye need to just accept that truth and decide whether or not ye have the stomach to take all ye can get before that end comes.”
“Ye mean, make some new memories.”
“Aye, sometimes that is all one ends up with anyway.” Joan sighed and then winked at her. “Then again, mayhap ye could end up with yet another lovely wee bairn.”