Child of the Mist (31 page)

As the words fell from Niall's lips, Anne's horrified gaze sought out Duncan. A humble half-smile lifted his mouth but, for a fleeting instant, she caught a triumphant gleam. Was it the triumph of a traitor or an ambitious man?

The men rose from the table to congratulate the new tanist, then left for the chief's installation ceremony. Iain stood there, staring at Niall, who grimly returned the favor. Finally Duncan clapped his son on the back.

"Come, have you no congratulations for your father?" Duncan inquired jovially. "Allow an old man a few years o' power. Then 'twill be your turn."

Iain wrenched his gaze from Niall to stare blankly at his father. "What? Och, aye, you're to be complimented on attaining such a high position. May you bring the wisdom o' years Niall so dearly desires."

He turned and strode from the chamber before his father could utter a reply. Duncan frowned at his son's retreating back, then turned to Niall.

"The lad's disappointed, that's all," he explained with an apologetic grin.

"I care not for Iain's feelings in this," Niall snapped. "As long as he swears fealty in the ceremony, I'll be content."

"Och, he will, and no mistake. The lad's as loyal as they come."

"So 'twould appear," came the sardonic reply.

Niall motioned for his uncle to precede him. "The ceremony draws nigh. See to the final preparations. I'll meet you in the Great Hall in ten minutes' time with the Lady Anne."

He raised his hand to silence Duncan's attempted protest. "She's my wife in all but marriage vows. And, as such, lady o' this castle and our clan. We will forget what was spoken in this chamber and start afresh. Agreed, Uncle?"

Duncan hesitated, then reluctantly nodded his head. "Agreed, m'lord."

Anne headed down the corridor to her bed-chamber, grateful the feast would not begin for another hour. The tension-fraught atmosphere of the council chamber, combined with the ordeal of the installation ceremony, had drained her energy. The past three days had been exhausting, full of pain as well as joy. Only now, at long last, was she finally able to relax.

Och, for a nice, hot bath
, Anne thought with a wistful sigh.
If only there were time
. . . .

Distracted, she rounded the corner and slammed into a hard male body. Sturdy hands grasped her arms to steady her. Anne stared up into dark eyes only a few inches higher than hers.

They were cold eyes. As they gazed down at her, a humorless smile touched the man's lips.

"So where are you going, my wee witch?" Malcolm Campbell inquired. "To procure some potion to put into the Campbell's drink? Or mayhap to chant a few incantations over your witch fire to hasten the death o' our cattle?"

With an angry glare, Anne jerked away. "I do no such thing! Your unreasoning hatred blinds you to the truth!"

A bushy brow lifted in amused tolerance. "Och, angry are you now at being caught in your devilish schemes?"

Once more, Malcolm grabbed her by the arms, jerking her close. "Your time is short, devil's whore. You've bewitched the Campbell with your seductive powers, but my powers are stronger still. Mine are the thumb and leg screws and the fires o' the stake. Think you to prevail against them?"

At the fanatical gleam in Malcolm's eyes, fear shot through Anne. He meant to see her dead. She struggled wildly in his arms. "Let me go, I say!" she cried. "If Niall should hear"

"He's not fit to rule us," the preacher hissed. "His soul is lost. Even when you're gone the spell can't be undone. He'll have to be tried and burned as the witch's consort that he is."

Niall. She'd never thought of that horrifying consequence. But Niall had defended her and, in that defense, had come perilously close to insulting the Kirk and denigrating its fanatical witch persecutions. Men and women had been burned for far less.

Fear for him drove Anne to the edge of panic. "You mustn't blame him for his loyalty to me," she said in a strangled whisper. "He's a decent, God-fearing man. I beg you. Don't punish him for whatever crimes you think I may have committed."

"And what crimes are they, lassie?" Malcolm prodded smoothly, his dark eyes gleaming. "Tell me now. Mayhap there is yet time to save the Campbell."

Dizziness swirled through Anne. The past days had drained her more than she realized. She couldn't seem to find the strength to fight back.

"That's enough, Uncle!"

Iain's deep voice jerked Anne from the hypnotic spell of Malcolm's gaze. In a stunned slow motion, she turned toward him. He looked fiercely angry, but why, Anne didn't know.

"Release her!" Iain demanded. "Now!"

Malcolm freed Anne abruptly. If not for Iain's quick leap to her side, she would have lost her balance and fallen.

"You tread where you should not go," his uncle warned. "Best you leave while your soul's yet untainted by this woman."

"Nay," Iain shook his head. "Best
you
leave before I forget you're family and smite you for your cruel words to this lady."

His uncle's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You would not dare! I'm a man o' the cloth."

"At this moment, you're not fit to claim such protection. Now, get out o' my sight!"

The preacher backed away, his face mottled in rage. "Young fool! Beware the witch or you'll rue it to your dying day!"

Malcolm stalked away.

Anne inhaled a shuddering breath. "You shouldn't anger him, Iain. He has the power to be a deadly foe."

"The man's a fool," Iain muttered. "Did he hurt you, lass?"

She shook her head. "Nay. But the threats he made against Niall. Och, Iain, what am I to do?"

" 'Tis as I said before," he murmured, tenderly stroking her cheek. "Come away with me, Anne."

At his touch, the memory of her promise to Niall came to mind. Remorse surged through her but she steeled herself to the difficult task. She'd given her word and would support Niall in any way she could, even if it meant denying herself the harmless pleasure of Iain's company. Even if it meant hurting him.

With a resolute sigh, Anne stepped back. "Nay, Iain. 'Tis as I said before, my place is with Niall." She gave him a gentle shove. "Now, get on with you and don't attempt to speak with me again."

Iain's brow furrowed. "And why not? Has Niall forbidden that, too?"

"I gave him my word." Anne's voice broke. "Please try to understand."

"Och, I understand," Iain ground out. "The man's jealousy has rotted more than his heart. It has now rotted his mind. This is beyond tolerance!"

Anne grabbed his arm as he turned to leave. "You're not going to see Niall, are you?" Anxiety threaded her voice.

"Aye, that I am. I'll have it out with him, once and for all."

"Nay, Iain," she implored. I beg you"

"Let him go, Anne."

At the flat command, Anne swung around. Niall stood there in the corridor leading from the Great Hall. In a few quick strides, he was upon them. Gently, he pried Anne's fingers loose and moved her aside. Then, in a quick move, Niall grabbed his cousin by the throat, slamming him against the wall.

"I've told you time and again to stay away from her," he growled savagely. "What more will it take? A dirk between your ribs?"

Anne grasped Niall's arm, tugging frantically. "Stop it! Stop it, I say! Don't do this, Niall!"

He shrugged her aside, his glance never leaving Iain's.

Iain's hand encircled Niall's wrist and clamped down tightly on it. "Release me now," he said in a soft voice, "or there'll be more than one dirk drawn this eve."

Panic rose in Anne. They meant to fight each other, for neither man's pride would allow him to back down. She glanced wildly around, searching for help, and found none. Then, in a flash of inspiration, she relieved Niall of the dirk that hung at his side before hurrying around to take Iain's.

Iain's hand stayed hers. Anne's gaze met his, her silver eyes flashing. "Let it go, Iain."

He eyed her for a long moment then released her hand. Anne withdrew his dirk.

Without warning, she turned and pressed Niall's own dagger against his ribs. He stiffened, going quiet and still, but maintained his grip on Iain.

"Do you mean to kill me, lass?" he drawled, never shifting his gaze from that of his cousin's. "If you do, make your first thrust deep and sure. Otherwise, I swear I'll break his neck before I die."

"And you're a great brute o' a fool," Anne muttered in disgust, "if you think I mean to kill you. I only wanted to get that pigheaded attention o' yours." She pressed the dirk a little deeper, until its tip penetrated his clothes to prick his skin. "And do I finally have it?''

"Aye," Niall gritted. "Now say what you have to say, and be quick about it!"

"You are wrong to treat Iain thusly."

"I told him to stay away from you!"

Anne smiled. "Aye, but I am the one who gave my word, not Iain. Why aren't you throttling me against that wall instead?"

Niall shot her a furious glance. "One thing at a time. I'll see to you later."

"And will you also see to your uncle Malcolm?" she persisted sweetly.

"Malcolm?" Niall frowned. "What has my uncle to do with this?"

"He was threatening me, warning me o' the dire consequences in store for not just me, but you, if I continued with my witchcraft. Iain," she explained, motioning toward the younger man, "rescued me from your churlish uncle. And, just as you arrived, I was informing him that I couldn't speak with him again. Let Iain go." Anne slid Niall's dirk back in its scabbard. "You have falsely accused him."

The request was uttered in a low voice, but the authority beneath it was commanding, nonetheless. Niall hesitated, then released Iain and stepped back. Neither man, however, relaxed his rigid fighting stance, nor extinguished the wary look in his eyes.

"You owe Iain an apology," came the sweet voice beside Niall.

His jaw hardened. "If 'tis truly as Anne says, I beg pardon."

Iain rubbed his bruised throat. "It changes naught and you know it. I don't want your apology, nor will I accept it!"

Anne touched him on the arm. "Iain, please."

He rounded on her. "Leave it be, lass. You've made your choice, and that choice is for him. 'Tis time you start living with the consequences o' his arrogance and mistrust. I only hope he doesn't destroy you in the process o' destroying himself.

"And you," Iain said hotly, his glance swinging back to Niall. "I'm not so sure I made the wisest choice in the council. And that's a decision I may live to regret."

Without another word, Iain strode away. Tears filled Anne's eyes, but they were ones of fury.

"How could you treat him like that?"

Niall studied her impassively. "I apologized. What more do you want?"

Her fists clenched at her sides. "And did you con-

vince Iain o' your sincerity? I think not! You could have tried harder, Niall Campbell!"

A look of utter weariness flooded Niall's eyes. "Aye, mayhap I could've. But this has been a trying day and my patience is worn to its breaking point."

Niall gathered Anne into his arms. "I'll seek Iain out and try again on the morrow. But only for your sake," he hastened to add, seeing the joyous light flare in her eyes. "I still dare not trust him. Not him, nor any man."

She flung her arms around his neck. "Och, my love, you'll not regret it. I swear it!"

He smiled down at her. "Mayhap. Now, where were you going?"

"To my chamber, for a short rest before the feast."

A dark brow arched in feigned consideration. "And have you already forgotten my command before I left for the council?"

Her arms fell from his neck. She began to back away, the full intent of his words rushing back to her. "Well, I could hardly meet you on your bed, when there was a chieftain's ceremony awaiting."

"And now what excuse have you?" A devilish grin spread across Niall's face. "There's nearly an hour until the feast. We have all the time in the world."

Anne grabbed his hand and began tugging him forward. "Then let us hurry, m'lord. I've always had a taste to bed a clan chief. I fear an hour is barely time to satisfy that hunger."

Laughing, Niall followed her down the hall.

Late the next morning, Anne reluctantly rose from Niall's bed. The feast had lasted well into the night, but Anne and Niall had departed for the privacy of his bedchamber as soon as it was considered proper. The door was barely closed before they were feverishly undressing each other. In but a few minutes more, they were entwined on the bed in the throes of passionate lovemaking. Finally, both fell into a sated but exhausted slumber.

After several more hours of langourous lovemaking when they awoke and a quick breakfast of porridge and cream, Anne bade Niall a fond farewell as he went off to attend to his duties. At her request, Agnes had a bath drawn. Anne was soon lost in contemplation as she enjoyed the soothing water and her maid scrubbing her head.

Her thoughts harked back to last eve's encounter with Malcolm. Though Niall had discounted his uncle's threats, Anne was still worried. The man had the power of religion behind him and that power could not easily be discounted. Not when Niall's very life could well hang in the balance.

She'd do anything to protect himanything. And that anything included giving up her healing. She'd never thought she could ever compromise on such a vital issue, never imagined she'd be willing to sacrifice the good of many for just one. But Anne had never envisioned loving a man as deeply, as completely, as she loved Niall. And his life held precedent over everything else.

In time, the animosity toward her would cool. She'd be accepted. In the meanwhile, it was too dangerous to sit by and allow things to take their natural course. She had already given Niall her word she'd not heal in Kilchurn but Anne knew now, with a bittersweet pain, there was yet more she must do.

Her visits to Ena must stop if the clacking tongues were to be silenced. Her store of potions and salves would have to be discarded, for they could be used as evidence against her. And her secret herb garden in the forest must be destroyed. Any and all possibilities must be considered. Every threat to Niall's safety must be eradicated. Her physical presence in Kilchurn was problem enough. She'd not knowingly create more.