Child of the Mist (40 page)

The three men departed. Agnes returned to her undressing of Anne. Though Anne's face and hands were smoke-blackened, the thorough inspection of her body, once she lay there clad only in her undershift, proved the fire had not yet touched her. Gazing at her sweetly rounded form, Niall fell back with a sigh of weary relief.

If one hair on her head had been harmed, he thought with a blinding flash of anger, he'd have risen from his bed at that very moment and gone after Malcolm. As he watched with hungry, loving eyes, Agnes gently bathed her, then redressed her in a snowy-white nightgown. Just as the old woman finished by tucking the comforter around her, Anne moaned. Niall levered himself to one elbow and took her hand.

"Annie?" he whispered, his voice rough with concern. "Can you hear me? Open your eyes, lass."

Her fragile, blue-veined lids lifted. Silver eyes gazed up at him. For a moment she stared at Niall in confusion, then recognition flared. Color bloomed in her pale face. She smiled, a soft, tender movement of her delicately curved mouth.

"Och, Niall," Anne breathed. "You're alive. I was so afraid for you yet could do naught."

Her glance moved to encompass Caitlin and Agnes. "Thank you, my friends, for doing what I couldn't. You've brought him back to me. I owe you a debt I can never hope to repay."

Niall's glance followed hers. A dark brow arched in irony. "Mayhap they succeeded in saving my life, but they've yet to explain why they almost let you die without telling me."

A small frown marred the smooth expanse of Anne's brow. She turned her gaze back to him. "There was naught they could do, my love. Duncan and Malcolm saw to that. And their first loyalty, as well it should be, was to you. I made them promise to protect you."

"Mayhap," Niall admitted, not sounding at all convinced. "But no matter. We can speak o' it later. For now, I wish to know what happened to you."

"And I need to tend your hands, brother," Caitlin interjected, firmly taking a red, blistered palm in hers.

"Och, Niall," Anne murmured. She sat up and took the hand he'd held hers in, turning it over. "How did this happen? You've burned yourself!"

He glanced from one woman to the other, each holding a burnt palm, and grinned roguishly. " 'Tis naught. I but singed them a bit getting through the fire. But if such action warrants this kind o' attention, I'll be certain to take every opportunity that presents itself in the future."

Anne glanced up at Agnes. "Make a nettle tea and quick. 'Tis too late to prevent the blistering, but compresses soaked in the tea will ease the pain and promote healing."

"Aye, m'lady," the maidservant said, and hurried to the kitchen.

"Caitlin." Anne turned to the girl. "Gather clean bandages and a bowl to soak Niall's hands in."

Caitlin nodded and sprang up, running off to find someone to help her with the task.

"Now, lass," Niall began warningly, "I don't think"

"Hush, my love." Anne laid a gentle finger to his lips. " 'Tis past time to worry what your people think. I've already been condemned a witch. All our attempts to protect me by hiding my healer's skills have been for naught. I will not hide them again."

I suppose you're right." he sighed. "But I'll tell you true, Annie. Though I believe my people are finally warming to you, I don't know if we'll ever win over Malcolm. Or Duncan, either, for that matter."

She smiled. "Time enough for that later. First, let me see to your healing. 'Tis all that matters to me."

He pulled her to him, careful to keep his burnt palms off her. "And all that matters to me is how to keep you safe."

His expression darkened and a pained regret smoldered in his eyes. "Do you know how I felt when I heard you were to be burned? I was terrified I wouldn't make it in time, that I'd find you dead, all black and blistered, just like I found Hugh's Dora the day they burnt her. I swear I don't know what I would've done if they'd killed you."

Niall lowered his head to rest upon her shoulder. "Even now, I remember that awful fear, that sickening, helpless feeling in my gut." He dragged in a shuddering breath. His voice broke. "Lord, Annie, I don't know what I would've done without you."

"Och, my love," she crooned, stroking his head. " 'Tis all right. I'm safe. I won't leave you."

He was silent for a long moment. "But mayhap you should, lass." Niall lifted his gaze to her. His eyes glittered with tears. "I should send you away."

A chill, black silence engulfed Anne and, from deep within it, her heart hammered in pain and fear. Pain, that it should finally come to this. Fear, that in the doing, it might eventually sever the bonds between them. She clamped her eyes shut and fiercely shook her head.

"N-nay," she moaned. "Don't ask it o' me, not now, not when I've just gotten you back. Must we speak o' it? Mayhap in time, when our heads and hearts are clearer, our strength returned, but not now."

"You are right," he whispered hoarsely, as loathe to discuss it as she. "Time enough in a day or so when things have had a chance to calm. But not now. I will know, however," he continued, his voice taking on an ominous edge, "what happened to you since I became ill. I must have the facts and I don't want you protecting anyone. Do you understand me, lass?''

Anne nodded. "Aye." She inhaled a steadying breath. "They threw Ena in the dungeon, accusing her o' witchcraft, when I brought her back to help rid you o' the foxglove poisoning. To save her and buy time while I sent for Iain, I confessed to the craft. You know the rest. Och, Niall," she said, choking on a sob, "how can there be such evil in the world?"

"The evil that only a narrow-sighted group o' men in the name o' religion can foster," he snarled. "Did they torture you, lass?"

"Nay, though they threatened it when I refused to admit to all the lies spread about me. In the end, Duncan was satisfied with the meager confession I signed."

"Aye," Niall laughed bitterly. "That poorest o' excuses for a confession. What I can't fathom is the depth o' my uncle's animosity toward you, to condemn you on such feeble grounds. Malcolm, I can well understand. In his own way, he's as crazed as Hugh."

"Do you think all o' this is mayhap tied with the traitor? 'Twould seem"

A sudden remembrance struck her. Anne gripped Niall's arm, excitement threading her voice. "Nelly!" she cried. "When she brought me my supper last eve, she spoke o' a traitor, o' working for him. She was the one who put the foxglove in your food at the traitor's behest. Och, Niall, find Nelly and get the truth from her! She knows who the traitor is!"

Caitlin walked in at that moment, a bowl and a box full of bandages in her hands. Niall struggled to a sitting position. "Get Iain in here and be quick about it! Hurry, lass. Now!"

The startled girl hurried back out of the room. A few seconds later Iain, who must have been waiting outside the bedchamber, entered. Caitlin was close behind.

He headed straight for Anne and knelt beside her, taking her hand in his. "Are you all right, lady?" he began, his voice taut with emotion. I came as soon as I received your message, but still I feared"

Niall's eyes narrowed, but he shoved the surge of jealousy aside. For the moment at least, there were more pressing matters. "Enough, Iain! Go below and fetch Nelly. I must speak with her immediately!"

"And what is so important about Nelly," Iain demanded, "that I can't have the moment you promised to talk with Anne?"

When Anne made a move to speak, Niall shot her a warning glance. He turned back to Iain. "Why I want Nelly doesn't concern you." He forced his voice to calm. "Suffice it to say, 'tis o' great import to me. Will you fetch her?"

The blond man rose and rendered him a stiff bow. "Aye, m'lord. You are still chief. I must obey."

He glanced at Caitlin. "Come with me, lass. I may need your help."

Iain stalked from the room. Caitlin shot Niall a puzzled glance, then once more hurried out. Anne watched the pair leave, noting the rigid set of Iain's shoulders and proud lift of his head.

She sighed. "Was it necessary to be so harsh with him? Iain has been a loyal friend. If not for his aid, would you have succeeded in your rescue o' me?"

"Nay," Niall admitted, "and I'll see to his reward in due time. But friend though he may be to you, he is no longer friend to me. I still dare not trust him. He threatened to kill me again today, if you died."

"And is that not the heated emotions o' youth?" Anne asked, stroking his face. "He is concerned for me, Niall. That, and naught more."

"Why did you send for him?"

She gave a wry laugh. "Is that not evident? With you as ill as you were, there was no one powerful enough in Kilchurn to stop Duncan and Malcolm. Iain was my only hope."

"O' late he seems more able to care for you than I," Niall muttered. "Mayhap you'd be better off with him."

Anne smiled. "Do you realize how like the jealous lover you sound? Truly, are you jealous, Niall?"

A pair of penetrating eyes leveled on her. " 'Tis hard not to be when your affection for Iain is so apparent."

"And can't a woman have a man as friend?"

"More than friendship burns in Iain's heart for you!"

She returned his hard stare. "I do naught to foster that."

Niall sighed. "I know, Annie. But love isn't the most logical o' emotions. Leastwise, not when it comes to me."

A piercing sweetness flooded Anne. "Are you saying you love me, Niall Campbell?" She propped herself on an elbow.

His brow crinkled in puzzlement. "But, o' course. Surely you knew?"

Anne fell back upon the bed, her eyes rolling in exasperation. "And how, pray tell, was I to know? You've never spoken the words and I'm no seer! Och, you're the most thick-skulled dolt o' a man I've ever had the misfortune to know!"

He grinned roguishly and slid over to her. His long fingers stroked her cheek. "I must be rising in your estimation," he said, his voice low and husky. "I'm no longer pigheaded now, only thick-skulled."

Her eyes filled with tears. "Don't mock me, Niall. 'Tis too important."

His lips lowered to brush tantalizingly, lightly, the sensuous curve of her mouth. "Aye," he whispered. "I well know how important. You are everything to me. I love you, Annie lass, with all my heart."

For a long moment her moisture-bright eyes scanned his face, as if searching for confirmation of his words. Then the tears spilled over. Her lips moved to his.

"Och, Niall," she cried. "My love!"

She kissed him, hard, hungrily, her tongue sliding between his slightly parted lips. Beneath her fingers upon his bare chest, she felt his muscles leap reflexively, then draw taut and hard.

With a groan, Niall drew her to him, his mouth slanting fiercely back and forth over Anne's, his tongue darting out to meet and join with hers. She came to vibrant life in his arms, everything intensified by the terror of the past days, the fear of losing him. A thick, sensual haze engulfed her.

Niall seemed equally out of control. His burned hand moved, seemingly insensitive to the pain, sliding up to her breast, boldly cupping its soft, enticing fullness.

At his touch, Anne came to her senses. Iain and Caitlin would be returning with Nelly any minute now, not to mention the equally imminent arrival of Agnes.

"N-Niall," she gasped, wrenching her kiss-swollen lips from his. "We must stop. Iain will be here"

As if the words had conjured him, lain flung open the door and hurried in. His face was pale, his mouth grim. And he was alone.

With an exasperated sigh, Niall rolled away from Anne and sat up against the pillows. "I send you on a simple errand to bring me a serving maid and you come back empty-handed. Why did you bother to return without Nelly?"

Iain halted before Niall. His gaze was fierce yet tinged with a strange horror. "Och, I found her all right," he rasped. "But she was already dead."

"What?" Every muscle in Niall's body went rigid. "What did you say?"

"Nelly is dead, her neck broken," Iain repeated. I can't be certain when it happened, but from the stiffness o' her body . . ." He paused to shoot Anne a regretful glance. "I'd say 'twas late last night. Do you realize the strength it would take," he continued with a ruthless bluntness, "to break a woman's neck with your bare hands? It requires a very powerful man and, most likely even then, a madness would have to be upon him.''

Iain eyed Niall with a cold, unwavering look. "You, m'lord, have a serious problem. It seems there's a madman loose in Kilchurn."