Annys stared out the window at all the activity in the bailey. She had taken a seat on the cushioned bench to gain the best light for her sewing only to have her attention caught firmly by what was going on outside. The preparations for battle were now obvious, far more so than they had been when Harcourt was just seeing to the strengthening of the defenses already in place. Her heart ached as she watched her people work. This was not what she wanted for them, for herself, or for her child. What had always made Glencullaich such a beautiful place had been its peace. Sir Adam had shattered that with his greed.
The cat she had rescued jumped up on the bench, pushing its head into her hand. Annys smiled and scratched its ears, pleased with the diversion. The animal refused to stay in the stables and she did not have the heart to chase it away every time it sought her out.
“There is a dark cloud o’er Glencullaich, Roban,” she said, the animal’s loud purr comforting her for the moment. “It has a name, too. Sir Adam the Bastard.”
“Are ye actually talking to that cat?”
Annys ignored the tingle of a blush on her cheeks and smiled at Harcourt. “Aye, and Roban is a verra good listener.”
It was absurd but he had to acknowledge that there was a territorial battle going on between him and the cat. This very morning he had woken up, begun to pull Annys closer so that he could kiss her awake, and found himself staring into the cat’s eyes. Shaking off an odd unease over being watched, he had bent his head to place his lips on hers only to have the cat place one surprisingly large paw right over her mouth. He knew people would think he was mad if he said so, but Harcourt knew that was when the battle lines were drawn.
“It was in the bed this morning.”
“I ken it but I am certain he is verra clean. I just dinnae ken how he keeps getting inside the room.”
And now it was he. Harcourt inwardly shook his head. The women in his family always did the same, naming the animal first, and then calling it he or she and treating the animal as if it were a part of the family. Harcourt could see the same path being walked here. Then he told himself that, if his brother Brett could deal with little Ella’s cat Clyde, which snarled at him all the time, he could learn to deal with Roban.
“Slips inside when it thinks no one is watching it, just waits for someone to open the door.”
She nodded. “I suspicion that is just what he does. Cats can be verra quick. So, tell me, how does the work progress?”
“It goes weel.” He sat down next to her, ignoring the way the cat glared at him from the other side of her. “I wish I could tell ye that this is all but a waste of time, that there will be no battle.” He took her hand in his and kissed her palm. “I cannae. It would be a lie and I willnae lie to you, nay e’en to put ye at ease. I believe naught short of that fool’s death will stop it. Sadly, we cannae find the lackwit so that we might test the truth of that.”
“Ye have been looking for him?”
“Aye, but cautiously. ’Tis nay verra safe for any of us to be far from these walls without a large, weel-armed force at our side. The woods fair crawl with Sir Adam’s men.” He smiled. “And a few MacFingals. Those lads have lessened Sir Adam’s army by a wee bit.”
“They go out there e’en though ye believe it isnae safe?”
“MacFingals do what they please. They also do some things with an enviable skill the clan has become renowned for. One of those things is slipping out, creeping up on an enemy unseen, and winnowing away at its strength.”
“By killing them.” She shivered, the cold, brutal reality of what they were all being forced into hitting her hard.
“There may nay have been any formal declaration, any call to arms, but this is war, Annys.”
It was easy to see how that cruel truth was upsetting her. Harcourt knew she was too sharp-witted to have not seen exactly where the trouble with Sir Adam had always been headed. Even those who had not lived the quiet, peaceful life she had at Glencullaich could grow unsteady when the time came where no choices were left to pick from, when the army was actually at the gates and all they had ever cared about was at risk. Hope for a better outcome could be a stubborn thing, he thought as he put his arm around her.