Child of the Mist (7 page)

It had to have something to do with the Campbells, perhaps even Niall Campbell himself, Anne mused as she hurried down the chill stone corridor toward her father's chambers. But what would her father need her for? How could she be of any help? Well, no matter, she firmly told herself as she paused to smooth her dress and hastily braided hair before knocking on the door. One way or another, she'd discover the answer soon enough.

"Come in, lass," her father's voice beckoned at her first knock.

Hesitantly, Anne pushed open the door. Her father and Niall Campbell stood together, warming themselves at the hearth. She walked in.

"Close the door and come here, lass."

Anne quickly did as she was told. "Aye, Father?" she murmured an instant later, her eyes searching his face in concern. "You called me. What troubles you?"

Alastair gestured toward Niall. "We've come to an agreement that'll end the feuding."

Her eyes swung to meet those of Niall Campbell. "Is it true? You've agreed to end the feud?"

Niall nodded.

"But how?" she eagerly persisted. "What common ground could you two possibly find? What honorable recourse to ease the wounded pride o' both sides?"

A strange light flared in Niall's eyes. "I've no talent for smooth words to ease your pain, and I won't lie. Ask your father. 'Twill come better from him."

He looked at Alastair. "I'll wait at the window. 'Twill give you a few moments alone together."

Alastair nodded. Both he and Anne watched as Niall walked and took his seat across the room. Then Anne turned to her father.

"What did he mean? Why should an end to the feud cause me pain?"

"Och, lass." He sighed. "Now hear me out before you fly into a rage. 'Twas the best, the only thing, I could do." He took her by the arms. "I've given you to him."

Shock warred with anger until Anne's arresting eyes darkened to stormy gray. "Wh-what? You did what?"

"You heard me, lass. I gave you to Niall Campbell."

"You
gave
me to . . . to
him
?" Anne's voice rose on a thread of hysteria. "But why? He doesn't want me!"

Niall winced at the naked anguish in her words, knowing full well their truth. Pity slashed through him. Though it was evident she was just as adamantly against their union as he, Anne would suffer far greater consequences. She'd be the one to leave her home and adjust her life to his. She'd be the one to lose the freedom she so dearly cherished, not to mention the opportunity to heal, for it would be far too dangerous for her to roam about ministering to his more superstitious clan.

Perhaps she didn't realize that yet. Niall. prayed so, for the knowledge might be more than she Could bear. Better to break it to her later, after she'd had time. . . .

"Nay!"

The cry wrenched free of the muffled speech coming from across the room. Niall's head jerked around. At that moment Anne turned to him. Their eyes met, regretful brown ones locking with tear-bright silver.

"N-nay," she whispered, the entreaty so direct and personal it sliced to the depths of his heart.

He fought the impulse to go to her, gather her into his arms and comfort her. Instead, he forced his glance back out the window. It would do no good, Niall told himself.

What could he promise her anyway? He didn't know if his people would ever accept her or if she'd find happiness at Kilchurn. And he had no hope of love to offer. Better she seek what comfort she could from her father.

"How can you do this?" Anne demanded of Alastair, the tears now coursing, unchecked, down her cheeks. "How can you give me to a man such as you know Niall Campbell to be? He's ruthless, cruel, and will probably ill treat me solely out o' hatred for MacGregors. You forced him into this. I know you did!"

Alastair gently wiped her tears away. "'Tis for the good o' both our peoples, lass. He saw the wisdom, as you must. Don't fear him. He's an honorable man. I know that now. He'll not mistreat you."

"B-but I don't want a husband!" she wailed. "I don't want to wed!"

"Er, 'tisn't a marriage," her father mumbled, coloring fiercely. "Or at least not for a time. You're to be handfasted to him for a year and a day, until his mourning for his wife is over."

Anne jerked away, her tears staunched in her scorching anger and disbelief. "
Handfasted
? You're
handfasting
me? I don't believe it! Why not just give me to him as his whore? 'Tis one and the same as far as I'm concerned!"

"Now, lass." Alastair moved toward her, his voice low with warning. "Calm yourself. 'Tisn't the same at all. Handfasting is an ancient, honored custom. There's no shame in it. Besides, he's agreed to wed you when the year is up. You can't blame him for wanting to mourn his wife, can you?"

"Let him mourn the rest o' his life for all I care!" Anne hotly replied. "It doesn't matter to me! 'Tis my right as a Scotswoman to refuse this. I
will not
handfast or anything else with him!"

"And I say you will!" her father roared, losing his patience at last. "You're still my child, my firstborn and heir. The welfare o' our clan, nay, its very survival, is now in your hands. You know where your duty lies."

He pointed toward the door. "Now go, and not another word from you. The ceremony will commence at midday. The Wolf wishes to depart immediately thereafter, so see to your preparations. I don't wish to discuss this further!"

Anne opened her mouth to protest then, seeing the tense, rigid expression on her father's face, thought better of it. It was no use, she realized. It would all be the same in the end. She couldn't refuse her father in a matter such as this.

He was right. She did know her duty. She was MacGregor and the plight of an entire clan mattered more than her own wishes. But to handfast with a man such as Niall Campbell!

With a choking sob, Anne ran from the room.

The ensuing hours until midday flew by in a flurry of activity. From a place far removed, Anne watched the preparations for her departure. Her gowns were carefully folded, her slippers and small collection of jewelry wrapped in soft cloths, her beloved clarsach safely tucked among them all.

A heavy pain settled around her heart. Would there ever be reason to strum the curved wooden harp in Kilchurn Castle?

Soon, nothing remained save the traveling gown of deep emerald velvet and a heavy woolen cape to ward against the blustering spring winds. Her entire life, Anne mused sadly, had quickly condensed into a few bulky parcels.

One last time, she walked out into the keep's private garden. The sturdier plants that had over-wintered were beginning to sprout fresh shoots of green. Her beloved herbs. Life-giving, heart-and-body soothing. Would there be a place for them in her new life?

A sob rose in Anne's throat. In but the span of a few hours her life had completely changed. Now, she was a helpless pawn to be manipulated at the whim of others. The freedom, the control she'd once had, were now lovely illusions.

Aye, illusions indeed,
Anne thought
, for they were never more than that in anyone's mind but my own. I've never had any power over my life save what was permitted me
.

She knelt to brush a bit of dirt gently from a chamomile plant.
Soon their delicate, daisy-like flowers will bloom,
Anne mused wistfully,
and I'll not be here to see them
.

The realization stirred something, firing her resolve, feeding her wounded spirit. She rose to her feet, her hands clenched at her sides. Let them all be damned! Though the circumstances of her life may have changed, why should she relinquish her life's work? The censure of others had never stopped her before. Why should it do so now?

She'd risked death for a long while now. Even in Campbell lands, there was nothing more they could threaten her with than that.

Anne hurried away, soon returning with a trowel and an empty wooden box. A grim smile on her lips, she carefully dug up a sampling of every herb in her garden and placed it in the container. Somehow, someway, she'd find a spot to transplant and grow her precious friends at Kilchurn Castle. She had to. In some symbolic manner, their rebirth would also assure hers.

An hour later Anne stood in her father's chamber, dressed in the green gown with fitted bodice and tight sleeves with their trailing edges, her hair gathered in a pearl-studded snood and topped with a small green velvet cap. Her only jewelry, in deference to the journey ahead, was a long pearl necklace, knotted just below the high-collared neckline. Nervously, her glance scanned the empty room as she waited for her father, who had gone with Niall Campbell to fetch one of his men as witness to the impending ceremony.

She jumped at the heavy tread of footsteps in the hallway. Before Anne had a chance to compose herself, the door swung open. In walked her father, followed closely by Niall Campbell and another man. Anne swallowed hard and forced her gaze to meet that of the tall, dark-haired warrior, who strode over to stand before her.

"Lass," Niall's deep voice rumbled, "allow me to introduce another o' my cousins, Iain Campbell. Iain, this is Anne MacGregor."

At the mention of her name, the equally tall, darkly golden-haired man jerked his admiring gaze from her to Niall. "Anne?"

"Aye," he replied tersely. "Pay your respects."

Iain, who looked to be several years younger than Niall, looked back at Anne. He accepted her proffered hand. A pair of intensely blue eyes studied her for a moment, then his head bowed to kiss her hand.

"'Tis my greatest pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma'am. You are truly one o' the most lovely women I've ever laid eyes upon."

"And you are as gallant as any court gentleman to say so," Anne murmured stiffly. "I hope we can be friends."

A reckless grin split Iain's handsome face. "I'd have liked to be more than friends,' if Niall hadn't claimed you first. But fate being what 'tis, I suppose I'll be pleased to settle for a friendship."

At his blunt, forthright manner, Anne couldn't help but smile. Here was one Campbell, at least, who seemed willing to accept her. Perhaps there was hope.

Niall cleared his throat. "Now that my cousin is finished charming this gathering, let us get on with the handfasting. We've several hours' journey ahead and I wish to be home before dark."

Iain merely quirked an amused eyebrow, but Anne, irritated by his rudeness,' shot him an icy glance. "Aye, by all means. I've no wish to deter you from more important matters."

He opened his mouth to snap something back at her, then thought better of it.
It isn't her fault,
he reminded himself for the tenth time.
Be gentle. It's even worse for her than for you
.

Niall addressed the MacGregor. "The ceremony, if you please."

Alastair's gaze skittered anxiously from his daughter to Niall.
Let this go smoothly,
he prayed,
or all will be lost
. He opened the small book he held and, after a prolonged bout of throat clearing, began to read.

"There are those in our midst who seek the bond o' handfasting. Let them be named and brought before us." He raised his eyes to Anne and Niall. "Take each other's hand and step forward."

A large, heavily calloused palm extended toward Anne. After a moment's hesitation, she placed her trembling hand in Niall's. There was a momentary squeeze, as if he were trying to reassure her. Then, as one, they moved to stand before the MacGregor. Out of the corner of her eye, Anne saw Iain take his place beside his cousin.

Alastair directed his gaze to Niall. "Repeat after me. I, Niall Campbell, do come here o' my own free will, to seek the partnership o' Anne MacGregor. I come with all love, honor"

"I'm not a hypocrite, MacGregor!" Niall interrupted him harshly. "Leave love out o' this or I'll not make the vows."

"A-as you wish," the older man stammered, unnerved by the vehemence in Niall's voice. "I meant no offense. 'Tis the customary rite."

"And I don't give a damn what the custom is!" Niall hissed through clenched teeth. "Now, get on with it!"

"II come with all . . . honor and sincerity, wishing only to become one with her whom I lovhonor."

He paused as Niall repeated the words. "Always," Alastair then continued, "will I strive for Anne's happiness and welfare. Her life will I defend before my own. All this I swear. May I find the strength to keep my vows.

Niall spoke the words after him. Then Alastair turned to Anne, guiding her in her pledge. Once she'd finished, he withdrew two rings from his pocket. Of plain gold workings, the pair gleamed with the patina of age and loving use.

"These were your mother's and mine." His eyes misted with memories as he smiled down at his daughter. "There wasn't time to fashion new ones for the ceremony. I'd be pleased if you'd wear your mother's."

''Aye, Father," Anne whispered, tears of bittersweet joy welling in her eyes. "'Twould please me, too."

He handed the ring to Niall. "Place it upon her finger."

Niall slid the golden circlet onto the third finger of Anne's left hand. Then his gaze returned to Alastair's.

"W-would you consider wearing my ring?" the older man asked. "'Twas part o' a long and happy union once before. Mayhap 'twill bring the same fortune again."

Niall gritted his teeth, a muscle twitching furiously in his jaw.
'Tis a farce, all o' this,
he inwardly raged,
yet the old man persists in trying to force some romantic symbolism into it. Well, this goes too far! I won't compromise my honor
.

A gentle squeeze of his hand halted him. Turning, Niall found himself captured by a mesmerizing pair of silver eyes. Warm with silent entreaty, they pulled at him. He knew, for Anne's sake at least, he couldn't refuse.

"II'd be honored, MacGregor," Niall mumbled, still ensnared by the strange feelings roiling within him. Benumbed, he watched as the man presented his daughter with the ring and she placed it on his finger.

"As the grass o' the fields and the trees o' the woods bend together under the pressures o' the storm," Alastair once more intoned, "so too must you both bend when the wind blows strong. But know as quickly as the storm comes, so equally quickly it may leave. Yet, will you both stand, strong in each othees strength. As you give lovhonor, so will you receive strength. Together you are one; apart you are nothing."