It was young, she decided as she crouched down in front of it. Weaned but not for very long. She murmured soft, nonsensical words of comfort as she cautiously moved to unbind the animal. Too thin, dirty from its battle to get free, and trembling, the cat was a wretched creature but it had eyes very much like Harcourt’s. Dunnie, the stable master, was not going to be very happy to see this one show up at Glencullaich.
For a moment she thought of just letting it go but then, as she slowly ran her hand along its side while reaching for the tether that held it to the stake, she felt its ribs and knew she would be taking it home. Cats and dogs bred too freely, and too often, leaving far too many animals to feed and care for. She could not get everyone to cage the animals they had when they went into season. Neither could she let the unwanted just starve. She certainly could not ignore the pleading in those eyes that matched the ones she saw too often in her dreams.
To her surprise the cat stuck its head under her armpit as she slowly untied the rope holding it trapped. It was not yet wary of people. That could prove to be a good thing.
“What are ye doing?” asked Harcourt as he stepped up on the other side of her, Nathan close behind him.
“Someone has tethered this poor cat to a stake and I mean to set it free,” she replied, silently cursing how tightly the knot she worked on was tied.
Harcourt sighed, easily recognizing another so much like his kin, one who could leave no sorrowful looking stray unaided. “This is how they lured ye into their reach, isnae it?”
“Aye,” she admitted reluctantly and made a soft sound of triumph when she finally got the knot untied.
The cat just pushed itself deeper into her side, ramming its head more snugly up into her armpit. She resigned herself to the possibility of ruining her gown and getting some fleas as she picked it up in her arms and stood. The way both men looked at the cat burrowed into her armpit almost made her laugh. They both looked sadly resigned to what they clearly saw as foolish womanly softness.
“Are ye certain ye wish to take that with ye?” Harcourt asked.
“Aye,” said Nathan, trying to get a good look at the cat. “Dirty, thin, cowardly. Nay a grand find.”
“’Tis certain that it belongs to no one so, aye, I will take it home with me. I do try to get the people to cage any dog or cat that goes into season but they dinnae always do it. ’Tis extra work, isnae it, e’en though I have the cages for them and have e’en had a shelter built to put the cages in. So, at times I find myself with a few that need some shelter. I have almost succeeded in getting the numbers down so that any newly born are usually taken in by others without hesitation.”
Harcourt watched as she moved to walk out of the alley, the cat tucked up hard in her arms. He had been at Glencullaich long enough to know that Annys collected the animals tossed aside as avidly as several of the women in his clan did. Glencullaich did not really need yet another stray cluttering its bailey or keep. He knew he had no chance at all of convincing her of that as he listened to her talk soothingly to the still-shaking animal.
“It will need that leg looked at,” Harcourt said as he carefully examined the way the tether had scraped the animal’s leg raw, ignoring the growling noises the animal made since it did not move from its place in her arms with its face tucked up in her armpit.
“Dunnie is verra good at that. He will ken what to do,” she said.
It did not surprise Harcourt when Dunnie took one look at the cat Annys showed him and scowled at her. The man probably saw far too many. It did take some time to detach the cat from Annys, however, before Dunnie could haul it away to fix its injuries.
“Who do ye think tried to grab ye?” Harcourt asked as they slowly walked toward the keep.
Annys had hoped the lack of questions immediately after saving her had meant Harcourt would just accept it all as one of those dangers of market day. She should have known better. Unfortunately, she did not really have all that much she could tell him. Not with any certainty.
“I think it may have been Adam,” she replied. “All of them wore cloth tied around their faces, but just the way he spoke when I made him let go of me made me think it was Adam.”
“Just how did ye make him let ye go?”
She could not fully repress a blush. “I slammed my hip into his, um, groin.”
“Clever. Weakest place on a mon. Instinct most often makes him reach for himself after such a hit as weel.”
“Which is what he did. Then I ran. I kenned that if I could just get back to the opening of the alley, I could call for help.”
“It was a risky thing for him to do.”
“I thought the same.”
“Mayhap he grows desperate.”
“O’er what? The fact that Benet and I still reside here? Still breathe?”
“Aye, exactly that,” replied Harcourt. “The mon didnae appear to be one who had a lot of patience. Nay, nor one who could make any plans that would require it. What he did today is the sort of thing a mon does simply because an opportunity arises and he snatches at it without much thought.”
“I did wonder how he could e’er have thought he would succeed. Weel, I shall write to his father now.”