Child of the Mist (35 page)

Anne firmly tucked the comforter around Niall. "There," she scolded, "now stay abed! Though your wound looks well, something has weakened you."

He captured her hand before she could move away. "Why not climb in here with me? 'Twould do much to keep me abed."

She shook her head at the suggestive gleam in his eyes. "Och, and aren't you the one who insisted on my never being alone with you? Would you now have Agnes privy to our couplings?"

"You're a hardhearted lass, Anne MacGregor." Niall laughed. "I'll be happy to be well again, so well have no further need of a chaperone."

"And I, too, my love." She leaned over to give him a tender kiss. " 'Tis most surprising how fiercely I miss our lovemaking. I can never seem to get enough of your magnificent body."

A hot light flared in Niall's eyes. "Or I yours, Annie lass." He dragged in a deep breath. "But, for all my fine words, I wouldn't be up to the task. 'Tis a hard thing when your gut feels sick like mine does. I fear I have no appetite for anything, food or otherwise.''

Anne touched his forehead with the back of her hand. She frowned. "Strange, but you have no fever."

" 'Tis spoiled food, as I said before. There isn't always fever with that."

"Mayhap."

Niall smiled at the doubt in Anne's voice. "There's naught to be done but endure. And I'd prefer to endure it in silence rather than tell the physician. Murdoch would only make things worse."

"Aye"Anne grinned wryly,"that he would." Her expression grew solemn. "There's something we must talk about, something we never finished in the garden."

"Caitlin?"

Anne nodded. "Would you accept my assistance? This might be better dealt with woman to woman."

"Your help would be greatly appreciated, lass. I swear I can't seem to influence my sister anymore. She used to hang on my every word, scurry to do my every bidding. But'no more." He shook his head, confusion in his eyes. "Truly, I don't know what to think or how to approach her."

"She's a young woman now. Though she loves you still, other men will soon claim the special place that before she filled with a sisterly love. And she is proud, as proud as you. You must begin to treat her as the woman she is."

"But she is barely fourteen!"

"Och, Niall," Anne chided gently. "And how many lasses are wed by that age? She is all but grown up."

"Mayhap," he admitted, his gaze lowering in frowning consideration, "but I can't say I like it. She was less a problem as a child."

"Grown women tend to be more o' a challengeto grown men."

He glanced up, subjecting her to an amused scrutiny. "Och, and well I know that, lass. You've been a handful since the first moment I saw you."

"As well I will be to our dying days, m'lord."

A low chuckle rumbled in Niall's chest. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Their eyes met and something hot and sweet flowed between them. Anne felt vibrantly alive. Niall's gaze, as it slid down her body, ignited a melting warmth that set her afire. She swallowed hard, knowing she must get away from him before she was overcome with desire.

"By your leave," she murmured, freeing her hand from his firm clasp, "I'd like to visit your sister. She must be worried."

Niall's expression darkened. "She needs to stew a bit. The lass defied me, not to mention risked a scandal because o' her behavior. I meant what I said before. She won't marry Rory MacArthur. I don't like the lad."

"Well, you all but banished him from Kilchurn. There should be little problem where he's concerned for a time. You must speak with her when you are feeling betteras one adult to another. You might be surprised to find shell then respond to you as an adult."

"Mayhap. But I've still a mind to send her to Edinburgh," he growled. "I threaten her with it constantly o' late, then back down. She's most likely laughing at me for my weakness in that."

"You must do what is fair, no matter the opinions o' others. Your compassion to your sister should not be viewed as a weakness. She's confused and lost right now, bewildered by her budding emotions and physical needs, hurting still from the loss o' her father. You've been more than patient with me, who have defied you far more than Caitlin has ever done. Can't you spare the same patience for your sister?"

Niall sighed. "Go to her, Anne. Talk with her. I'll defer to your judgement in her punishment, but punishment o' some kind she must have. Agreed?"

A slow, tender movement of her delicately sculpted mouth lit Anne's features. "Agreed."

Reluctantly, she rose from the bed and left the room. As Anne walked through the long stone corridor to Caitlin's room, she considered and discarded several ways to approach the girl. A niggling worry ate at the confidence she had shown Niall just minutes before. What if Caitlin refused to talk with her or, worse yet, ridiculed the guidance she'd try to offer? Niall's anger, when he learned of it, would be more terrible than before.

Well, Anne thought as she raised her fist to knock upon Caitlin's door, there was nothing to be done about it. All she could do was try. And try she would, to her very best efforts. In the end, it was all for Niall.

A young serving maid answered the door.

"Jane, 'tisn't it?" Anne asked. "Is your mistress in?"

Jane bobbed a little curtsy. "Aye, ma'am. But she says she isna receiving"

"Who is it, Jane?" a tear-choked voice interrupted her.

The maid swung back the door to reveal Anne. Caitlin stared at her, a myriad of emotions playing across her expressive face. Then she sighed. "Bid her come in. And you may leave, Jane."

"Aye, mistress." The girl slipped past Anne and closed the door behind her.

Squaring her shoulders, Anne walked to where Caitlin sat on a padded bench by the window. She gestured toward the seat. "May I sit with you?"

The girl's glance moved to gaze out the stone-cut window. "Aye," she murmured dejectedly. "Do what you wish."

Anne settled herself beside Niall's sister. For several minutes neither spoke, Caitlin staring out the window, Anne studying her. Finally, the girl wiped her tears away.

Turquoise eyes proudly met Anne's. "I thank you for your efforts on my behalf in the garden. At first, I was confused as to what was happening between you and my brother. But later, when I'd a time to ponder it all, I realized you deliberately picked a fight with him to divert his anger from me. 'Twas a kind thing to do."

Anne returned her gaze.

"Thinking back," the girl continued, "you've never once been less than kind, turning aside all my rudeness with gentle words and offers o' friendship. I've been a stupid, selfish child."

"There was something gnawing at you from the beginning," Anne said. "Something that affected your acceptance o' me. What was it, Caitlin?"

Niall's sister's eyes widened in surprise. " 'Twas so evident, was it? Twas but a foolish dream, but I'll tell you nonetheless. Rory's older sister, Sybil, was greatly desirous o' a marriage to Niall. Rory promised it would assure
our
eventual marriage, if our two clans joined in such a manner. I had hopes Niall might well consider Sybil, once his time o' mourning was done. Then you came to Kilchurn."

" 'Tis only a handfasting, Caitlin. A trial marriage that could well end in a year."

Caitlin smiled. "I saw how my brother looked at you, even from the start. I knew there was no hope for Sybil after that. And even you must now realize he loves you."

Anne flushed. "I know he cares for me, but he's made no offers o' marriage. Truly, I don't know how this handfasting will end."

"Well, I do," Caitlin said. "And I think I will like having you as a sister."

A lump rose in Anne's throat. "Will you now? Then we can be friends?"

The girl took Anne's hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "Aye, if you'll still have me." She paused to give a small, self-mocking laugh. "And if my brother doesn't yet banish me to Aunt Mathilda."

Anne smiled. "I think he can be made to see reason. He loves you, Caitlin. He's just sore beset o' late. Be patient with him."

"I-I'll try," the girl said, her eyes filling anew with tears, "but I loved Rory, and now Niall has sent him away, mayhap forever. Och, Anne, what shall I do?"

"Be patient with Niall and with yourself. If 'tis true love between you and Rory, 'twillna die. Even Niall will come to see that. He finds Rory too young to be a fit husband. But time may well alter that impression as well."

"But I will wither on the vine, waiting that long!" Caitlin wailed.

"It seems so, when you're but fourteen, but a woman must learn patience. 'Tis a trait sorely in need when dealing with men, even the man you love. Your time o' waiting won't be squandered if you spend it learning patience. And the eventual reward will be all the sweeter because o' it."

A joyous admiration flared in Caitlin's eyes. "Och, you are so wise. Would that I be, in the few years left until I reach your age."

Anne laughed, warmed by the girl's compliment. "You'll be wiser by far, and no mistake."

"Aye, if you teach me some o' your healing skills, that I will. As lady o' Rory's house, I'll need to know how to aid his people."

Anne's expression grew serious. "Mayhap in time, but not now. 'Twould be too dangerous."

Understanding flared in Caitlin's eyes. "Aye, that I know. But in time . . ."

"Aye." Anne smiled. "In time."

Niall felt no better upon Anne's return, but listening to her account of her visit with Caitlin filled him with pleasure. He clasped her hand, raising it to his lips to kiss it tenderly.

"You see, lass?" he asked in a husky voice. "We
will
prevail. Even now, you have yet another ally in Kilchurn. One by one we will wear them all down, show them the error of their ways."

"Aye, my love. That we will," she whispered, and watched as he lay back upon his pillow and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

Niall refused the evening meal, stating he had no appetite. Only with Anne's persistent coaxing did he finally take some stew. Then, despite her protestations that it wasn't proper, he insisted she climb into bed with him.

"I don't give a damn how it looks to Agnes," he growled in irritation. "I don't feel well and your presence gives me comfort."

There was nothing she could do or say after that, for Anne would never deny Niall. Her face stained crimson, she lay down next to him atop the comforter. He immediately took her into his arms, snuggled his head upon her breast, and fell asleep.

Late in the night, Niall's agitated movements woke Anne. He mumbled in his sleep, tossing and turning, until Anne was forced to take him into her arms to calm him. As she lay there, concern for Niall's strange illness grew with each passing moment. Gradually, she became aware of his heartbeat, thudding beneath her hand. It seemed slow, unnaturally so.

She lowered her ear to his chest. She'd lain upon him often enough after their lovemaking to know the normal pace of his powerful heart. It was indeed slower than usual.

The first tendril of real fear coiled in her stomach. This was no food poisoning or silent infection. Niall was druggedand it was most likely the work of her stolen foxglove.

Anne slipped from beneath him, gently lying Niall down and pulling the comforter up to cover him. With her heart pounding, she sat on the edge of the bed and struggled to think clearly, to devise a plan. Niall had become sick in but the past three days, since he was wounded and brought to his bedchamber. He could have only ingested the potent leaves in either food or drinkor in medicine!

Could the castle physician be poisoning Niall? Anne leaped to her feet to pace the room. She knew the little man had made Niall drink a tonic everyday, supposedly to strengthen him and aid in his healing. Could that have been the source of the foxglove? But if so, why? What would have been the man's motives? Surely he was not the traitor.

Nay, he could not be the traitor, Anne told herself, but he might well be working
for
the traitor. But how was she to fight him, forbidden as she was to interfere with the man's treatment of Niall? Well,
she
couldn't . . . but Ena could.

Anne slipped out of Niall's bedchamber and into her own. From there she left. The keep was silent and deserted. None saw her sneak down to the store-rooms, where she easily found the hidden tunnel that led to the secret passage out of the castle.

A half-hour later, she was beating on Ena's door. Finally, the old woman peered out. "What is it?" she croaked, her voice thick with sleep. "Is it a birthing, or someone" She stopped, recognizing Anne. "Lass, what are ye doing here? 'Tis the middle o' the night!''

"Let me in, Ena."

The old healer quickly complied. "Well, lassie," she asked, once the door was shut behind them. "What is it? Is something wrong with the young lord?"

"Aye, Ena. I fear you left too soon. Niall is deathly ill."

"The wound festers?"

"Nay, 'tis more serious than that. Someone has fed him my foxglove."

"'Tis worse than I feared," Ena muttered. "The young lord . . ."

"Help me, I beg o' you!" Desperation tinged Anne's voice. "His heart has slowed. He's sick, has no appetite, and is terribly weak. He may die!"

Ena took Anne's hand. "Aye, that he well may, if the source o' the drug isna halted. If he takes even one more dose . . ."

I need you there to stop the physician from feeding him anymore o' his foul concoctions. He may be the one poisoning him!"

"Nay, 'tisn't possible." Ena firmly shook her head. "I've known Murdoch for years. He'd never intentionally harm a body."

"Then who, Ena? Please come back with me. Help me discover the source. Help me stop them!"

The old woman nodded. "Aye, lass. I'll come back. Give me but a moment to gather my herbs. Though nothing but time will ease the effects o' the fairy fingers, I have some potions that might help strengthen the young lord in his battle against it."

"Thank you, Ena." Anne breathed the words in a rush of gratitude. "Thank you with all my heart."

Ena smiled. "We healers must help each other."

The journey back to the castle was slower by necessity, Ena's arthritic limbs stiff in the dampness before dawn. They took the secret tunnel into the castle and were soon back in Niall's room. After a quick but thorough examination of Niall, Ena glanced up at Anne.