Child of the Mist (34 page)

"But he'll hurt you," Anne protested. "Mayhap try to purge or bleed you, as if those treatments would aid in the healing o' a wound. How can you expect me to stand by and watch that old fool"

His grasp tightened, cutting off her protest. "Because I ask it, Annie lass. You said you want to stay with me, to fight our enemies. Well, our battle must be waged in many ways and on many fronts. Some things must be compromised if we're to prevail. This is one such compromise. I am willing to make it."

"But to ask me watch you needlessly suffer!" Tears choked her voice.

" 'Tis the way o' war," he replied softly. "Haven't you the courage for it?"

She studied him for a long moment. "I know not the depth o' my courage, but my love for you is more than sufficient to meet the task. Since you ask it, I'll stand back and watch that simpleton o' a physician treat you. But hear me well, Niall Campbell. If ever the time comes when your life's in danger because o' his ministrations, I will step in to save you. Naught you can ever say or do will keep me from that."

Something flared in the depths of his rich brown eyes. "Then let us pray that day never comes, sweet lass, for I fear it could well mean your life."

Hard, angry eyes watched as Niall, supported by two clansmen, was assisted back into Kilchurn. Anne followed close behind, surrounded by an armed escort of six more men. The eyes, shining with a malevolent light, turned from the sight. Hands clenched knuckle-white at his sides.

Damn the wench to hell!
the man cursed beneath his breath. If not for her quick response with the short-sword, he'd have had the time to reload the crossbow and finish off Niall. Taking care of her afterwards would have been easily seen to. But he'd dared not linger to fight off some crazed female with only his dirk and a crossbow for defense. Damn her anyway!

He'd meant to kill her after Nelly had hurried to inform him of Anne's presence in the forest. But when he'd seen Niall there and heard him ask her for a child something had snapped. The memory of another time, another childbirth that had ended to his advantage, came to mind. And now, once again, his claim to the chieftainship was threatened from a similar quarter. Time was running out.

He didn't want peace between Clan Campbell and MacGregor. He didn't want a marriage alliance, an alliance that seemed to be rapidly becoming a reality, if Niall and Anne's passionate response to each other in the forest was any indication. Niall's death was the only solution. The witch would be helpless with him gone and easily seen to.

Things had taken a complicated turn with her arrival at Kilchurn. Plans, so carefully made, were suddenly going awry. It was time to take a more subtle yet even deadlier bent.

A cruel smile twisted the man's lips. Aye, it was indeed time to take a firmer hold on the situation. It was time to use the foxglove. . . .

Anne stayed out of Niall's bedchamber whenever the physician was present, fearing she'd lose control if the man attempted some ignorant treatment that did little but hurt Niall. She was grateful for Ena's presence, for the wiry little physician seemed to respect her advice. Anne only hoped her old friend could successfully temper the man's more outlandish treatments.

Niall said little about what went on during the physician's visits and, though he appeared pale and exhausted afterwards, his wound still managed to mend. But only thanks to Ena's healing salves, Anne thought angrily as she battled to maintain hold of her anger and frustration. Afterwards, she'd spend many hours in Niall's room, reading to him, talking with him, holding his hand while he slept.

At Niall's insistence, Anne was never alone with him, a trusted servant always in attendance. There'd be no cause at a future date, he explained, ever to say she'd slipped him a potion or poison if something untoward should happen. His concern for her worried Anne. Was he in more danger than he'd willingly admit, to now suspect attempts on his life from within his own castle?

Surreptitiously, Anne began to watch the preparation of Niall's food and drink. There seemed nothing out of the ordinary in the kitchen. And Nelly always brought him his meals. Knowing the maidservant's feelings for Niall, Anne doubted the woman would do anything to harm him. She wouldn't be surprised if Nelly attempted to poison
her
foodthat would eliminate a rivalbut Niall was another matter altogether.

By the third day of his confinement, Niall was climbing the walls from boredom. Against his physician's advice and Anne's concerns, he rose and dressed. Staring down at her from his imposing height, he laughed at her protestations.

"I feel quite well," Niall chuckled maddeningly. "All I want is a short walk in the gardens. 'Twillna require the use o' my arm, and I swear to you, my legs are quite up to the task." He encircled her shoulders with his good arm. "But you may accompany me, to assure my compliance."

Anne stared up into his handsome face. Her heart melted at his boyishly compelling smile. "Och, have it your way." She finally sighed. "You always were a pigheaded dolt!"

"Sweet lass." He grinned down at her. "It warms my heart to hear such words o' endearment fall from your lips. Pray, what else is in that gentle, loving mind o' yours?"

"You're a rogue and a knave, Niall Campbell," she declared in exasperation, "and well you know it!"

"But you'll come with me to the garden?"

"Aye."

A warm, lazy smile teased his lips. "Good."

Kilchurn's gardens were spacious and well-tended. The air was heavily scented with lavender, blooming from the many bushes scattered throughout the walled enclosure. Bright slashes of red and pink roses brightened the area, as did rhododendrons and fuchsias. It was a lovely, peaceful place. As Anne walked along with Niall, she was content.

A girlish giggle from the rose bower, followed by a low male voice, was the first hint they weren't alone in the garden. Niall halted. A dark frown marred his brow.

"Not a word, lass," he whispered. "I've a suspicion my sister is up to no good, and I can well guess who with."

He left her standing there and made his stealthy way to the bower. What Niall saw stirred his blood to a boil. Caitlin and Rory sat on a stone bench, locked in a heated embrace. Rory's hands roved over his sister's slender form, barely pausing at one delectable spot before moving on to another, as if he didn't know where to alight or what to do.

Caitlin, however, seemed well aware what to do. Her hands were tightly entwined about Rory's neck, pulling him against her as they awkwardly but determinedly kissed. Watching the scene of youthful passion, Niall's fists clenched at his sides. Lord, didn't he have enough problems without worrying how much longer his headstrong, highly emotional sister would keep her virginity?

"That's enough, Caitlin," Niall quietly ground out the words.

With a gasp, his sister jumped away from Rory. The lad stared up at Niall, transfixed with terror while Caitlin frantically smoothed her gown and mussed hair. There was nothing she could do, however, about the becoming flush to her face, or her kiss-swollen lips.

"H-how dare you spy upon us?" she demanded, her surprise causing her to take the offense. "You could at least have made some noise to give us a decent interval to compose ourselves!"

Niall cocked a sardonic brow. "Och, and is that the way o' it? And should I have knocked first, too?" His expression hardened with a rare, glacial anger. "Nay, lass," he growled. "You were raised better than this. If I hadn't happened upon you, would he have soon been between your legs, your maidenhood gone? Then who would have you as wife?"

Caitlin sprang to her feet. "How
dare
you speak to me like that? Och, you are a crude, churlish knave to shame me so! And I care not for my maidenhood! 'Tis Rory I love. I'd give it to him gladly!"

Niall's hand shot out to grab his sister's arm and jerk her to him. "Well, since I am now responsible for your conduct and marriageable state, and I don't wish to see you wed to Rory MacArthur, 'tis past time I took firmer measures."

He spared a brief, withering glance for the trembling young man who stood there, rooted to the spot. "Get out o' my sight and my castle. And don't come back!"

Rory fled, almost colliding with Anne who had determined from the tone of the voices emanating from the bower that it was time she get involved. She paused to stare after the lad's rapidly retreating form, then once more gathered her skirts and forged on. The deadly grimness to Niall's voice filled her with rising apprehension.

"He isn't worthy o' you," Niall was saying in a low, furious voice. "Did you hear him come to your defense, or stand up to me for your sake?" He gave her a small shake. "Well, did you?"

Caitlin's mouth opened, then closed, her eyes filling with tears.

"He's but a lad," Anne interjected. "For all his size, he was no match for you."

Niall wheeled about, a thunderous look in his eyes. "And will you, too, defend the little beggar? I won't have it, Anne!"

She noted Caitlin's startled glance, swinging from her to her brother. In a flash of insight, Anne realized the only way to defuse the situation before Niall in his anger and pent-up frustration took it out on Caitlin was to turn it upon herself. Then, if she could manage to get the girl safely away. . . .

Later, when Niall was back in control, he could see to some fairer punishment for his sister. But not now. Now, all he would succeed in doing was alienating her.

Though she was loathe to anger Niall, Anne knew it was the best of all options. She squared her shoulders and defiantly lifted her chin. "You won't have it, you say?" she deliberately mocked him. "And what would you have me do? Cower in some corner each time I see you about to make a fool o' yourself?"

His features hardened in cold displeasure. "A fool, am I? There's not a man alive I'll let call me that. Do you imagine because you're a woman you can safely do so?"

"Safe or not," Anne shot back at him, "I'll do so, and gladly, if I think I'm right."

She deliberately turned from Niall to Caitlin. "Go to your bedchamber, lass. 'Tisn't fitting you should see your elders argue."

"Aye!" Niall snapped, glancing at his sister as if just remembering she was still standing there. "I'll see to you later."

Caitlin fled without a moment's hesitation, wisely realizing this was not the time to attempt further defense.

They watched her go, then Niall rounded on Anne. "What do you have to say for yourself, madam?"

She had never heard him use quite that silky, dangerous tone before. Anne shuddered. What if she'd made him so angry he never forgave her? What if he turned his back on her forever?

Anne flung the foolish thought aside. Niall was proud, but he was also intelligent. He could be brought to see reason.

"I was wrong to call you a fool, m'lord," she began, honest remorse shining in her silver eyes. "I beg pardon. 'Twas only a ploy to divert your anger from Caitlin."

He subjected her to a cool appraisal, the taut look of rage already ebbing from his features. "And you thought to turn it upon yourself, did you?"

"Aye."

"You risked much. I won't be taunted nor ridiculed before anyone."

Anne's head lowered. "I am sorry, m'lord. Mayhap I chose poorly, but 'twas the best I could think o'."

A long finger crooked beneath her chin to raise it. "Next time," he said sternly, "ask to speak to me in private. If you don't abuse that privilege, I'll know 'tis significant when you use it. Agreed?"

She smiled, relief flooding her. "Agreed."

Niall took her by the elbow. "Come, lady."

He led her into the bower, indicating she sit upon the stone bench. With a bone-weary sigh, he lowered himself beside her.

"I fear my strength wasn't adequate for the emotions o' the past few moments," he said, his face suddenly drawn and haggard. "I have the strangest sense o' fatigue and my muscles feel so weak."

Alarm filled Anne. She slid close, slipping her arm about Niall's waist to steady him.

"Mayhap your wound has broken open. Should I send for help to get you back to your chamber?"

"Nay. Allow me a few minutes more and I will make it under my own power. Though I may have erred in leaving my bed too soon, I'll never admit it to any, save you." He lifted a halting hand to rub his eyes. "Och, but my head aches, and I can't see too clearly."

"How long have you felt this way?"

Niall shrugged. "Off and on for the past two days.

"Then you lied earlier when you said you felt well."

He gave her a mock scowl. "Do you realize that in the span of but a few minutes you've called me both a fool and a liar? What am I to do with you?"

She returned his glare with a resolute one of her own. "Mayhap let yourself heal by staying abed as you should?"

"Aye, mayhap you're right." He smiled tiredly. "I thought my weakness was merely the effects o' my wound. Yet I am healing and these feelings worsen. Don't worry yourself, lass," he said, noting Anne's look of concern. " 'Tis most likely the result o' some spoiled food. It has happened before. I'll get over it."

"Aye, m'lord," Anne murmured. "You're a strong, healthy man. 'Tis certain you will."