Risley stepped forward apprehensively. “Excuse me, Lord Brogan, but I have not had the chance to thank you for allowing me to make my home with this group.”
“I asked Risley to join us. He is a craftsman with tools and would be invaluable to us,” Annis said, seeing how uneasy Risley was and no doubt worried that her word would not carry weight with Lord Brogan.
“Welcome, Risley. Your skills will be much appreciated.”
Risley stood speechless for a moment, then bobbed his head repeatedly. “Thank you, my lord. I will serve you well and faithfully.”
Una smiled. “I could ride on your cart with you and tell you all about our wee village if you’d like.” Her eyes darted to Brogan. “If that is all right with you, my lord.”
“I think it is an excellent suggestion, Una,” Brogan said with a nod.
Annis detected the twinkle in his soft blue eyes.
“I would like that,” Risley said, and before turning to walk away with Una, cast a quick look to Annis. “I will see that you get your chisel once we reach home.”
“Home,” Annis echoed softly as he and Una walked away. “He wanted a place to settle, and I did not think you would mind growing the village.”
“Chisel?” Brogan asked, his brow going up. “That is what you bought yourself? And no, I do not mind. A craftsman would serve us well. Again—chisel?”
“It is the perfect bauble,” she said with a grin and a sudden pain clutched at her back so badly she feared her legs would give way.
His hand shot out around her waist to steady her. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but he feared he would cause her more pain. “You cannot travel like this.”
“I would rather bear the pain than remain here,” she said, trying to focus on anything but the scorching pain in her back.
“You will ride with me,” Brogan ordered.
“I would love to agree, but I fear it might prove more painful with me tucked against you.”
He muttered beneath his breath, cursing his mother’s temper. “I would ask you why you so foolishly protected Damia, but knowing you as I do, you did so out of pure fury at seeing her harmed.”
“It was not right. I could not stand there and see her suffer or lose the bairn.” She shook her head. “After meeting your parents, I completely understand why you prefer not to reside at the keep.”
Iver approached. “All is set, my lord. We can leave whenever you wish.”
Brogan nodded and walked Annis to her horse and as gently as possible lifted her onto the animal. He mounted his mare, and the small group began their departure from the village.
The pain began as soon as the horse took a few steps. It was not going to be a pleasant ride, but she intended to bear it as best she could. She focused on the people as they made their way through the village. What she saw on some of their faces did not surprise her. Many looked with envy on Damia. They were not happy here and they would rather brave life with the condemned lord than remain here.
“Was your mother and father always such harsh people?” Annis asked, needing to keep her mind off the pain she suffered.
“My parents have always embraced power, and I believe it disappoints them that I do not. My mother tells me—has quite often through the years—that I am much like her father, Lord Kenneth. He had a tongue that could charm, a smile that melted hearts, and a loving nature. She contends that if it were not for her marriage to my father that her clan would have ceased to exist.” He laughed. “Ironically, she was the cause of its demise. My father swallowed the clan whole, and the Clan Smythe lives no more.”
“Do they not worry about the curse and how you suffer from it?” she asked, to keep from letting a groan of pain escape her lips.
“My father believes it a gift and that the clan benefits from it, since he believes I will forever rule it. I reminded him that I have not stopped aging. What will become of me when my body finally fails me but there is no death to greet me?”
Annis had not thought of that. She assumed he would live and not grow old. What a horrible future to face, but then it was a curse. Her heart broke at the thought of such hideous suffering, and she silently swore she would see the curse ended no matter what it took. No one should be forced to live such a horror.
But had not Lady Aila faced the horror of having her two-day-old daughter ripped from her arms and murdered in front of her? Annis’s heart twisted at the thought, and she could not blame Lady Aila for what she had done. Now, though, it had to stop. The suffering could not go on any longer. A wrong had to be made right, and Annis was going to see that done.