Bond of Passion by Bertrice Small Page A

for the lads were beginning to flock about her. She was enjoying their attention, but Annabella didn’t want her bartering her chastity, as she suspected Myrna had already done. She would speak to her before she departed on the morrow. “I think it’s time for us to sleep now, sister,” she said. “The Fergusons have informed me that we will depart as soon as it is light. We have several long days’ journeying ahead of us.”
    “Aye,” Myrna agreed, realizing that she had perhaps revealed a little too much knowledge of her relationship with Ian Melville. Aggie was not above telling tales. “I’ll miss ye, Annabella,” she said.
    “I also,” Sorcha added.
    Agnes began to cry.
    Laughing softly, Annabella drew her little sister into her warm embrace, smoothing her cheek with a loving hand. “Remember that ye’re coming to visit me next summer, Aggie,” she reminded her. “Now go to sleep, my bairn.” Then she began to hum an old lullaby that she had hummed to Agnes when the lass became too large for her cradle and had been put into the big bed with her three older sisters. Agnes relaxed in her sister’s arms, and shortly after, all four Baird sisters were sleeping soundly.

Chapter 3

    T he first day of October dawned chill and gray. Annabella was up before the first light began to dapple the sky. She had not slept as well as she might have, being anxious and nervous about what lay ahead. Her three sisters were snoring softly, burrowed beneath the down quilt. Using the night jar she pulled from beneath the bed, she set it aside. Then, pouring some water into the pewter basin, she quickly washed. The water was icy cold and drove any thoughts of sleep from her.
    She had laid her clothing out the night before on a chest at the foot of the bed. Capable of riding astride, she had taken Jean Ferguson’s suggestion from the evening before, and dressed warmly. She tucked her chemise into a pair of woolen breeks, pulling on thick wool socks to wear beneath her worn leather boots. She put on a light wool undervest lined in sheepskin, then a linen shirt over it, followed by her doeskin jerkin with sleeves lined in lamb’s wool. Unless it rained, she wouldn’t need a cloak.
    When Annabella had dressed, she stopped to look slowly about her. This was her bedchamber. The only one she had ever had. High in Rath Tower, she had slept here her entire life. It was a simple room, modest in size, just large enough to hold the big bed and four little wooden trunks holding each sister’s personal possessions. Her trunk was now packed into a cart to depart for her new home.
    She couldn’t help the little sigh that escaped her, along with the thought that she wished her new home were closer to her old home. At least her sisters would have that advantage, even if she didn’t. She considered waking her siblings but decided against it. It was far earlier than their usual rising hour. Myrna would complain. Sorcha would giggle sleepily, for she was always the hardest to wake. It was unlikely she would even recall saying farewell. And little Aggie would weep, for she was such a tender creature, and as the baby of the family had long ago learned that crying gained her the most attention. Annabella looked down at them, smiling. They were so damned beautiful.
    “Farewell, my dearies,” she whispered softly to them. Then she left the bedchamber, descending into the hall through her brother’s chamber, and then their parents’ chamber.
    Pale light was beginning to show through the hall’s two windows. The servants were already bringing in bread trenchers of oat stirabout to the high board, where the three Fergusons sat with her brother, Rob, and their parents. The trestles were filled with men-at-arms eating fresh-baked bread, cheese, and the cold meats left over from yesterday’s bridal banquet. She greeted the others at the high board as she took her place. There was virtually no conversation in the hall.
    Annabella spooned up her