Child of the Mist (20 page)

"Curse the woman!" Niall groaned as he swung up onto his mount.

He urged the horse out of the stable yard, clearing the castle gate at a dead run.
Of all the morns to have to ride off after Anne,
he thought in groggy disgust. His head pounded, his eyes were gritty and blurred, and his stomach churned unpleasantly. But then when had she ever made things easy for him?

He turned his horse in the direction of the only place, besides Ena's hut, he knew Anne might gothe little burn where he'd found her and Iain that day. Some premonition, nudging uncomfortably at the edge of his consciousness, filled Niall with a rising sense of urgency. Though his swift steed could give no more, Niall couldn't allay his growing apprehension. Somehow, someway, Anne was in grave danger!

The movement of his horse's legs, striking the earth in relentless rhythm, gradually intensified the drumming in Niall's skull. He thought he'd go mad. He lowered his head in an attempt to ease the throbbing agony, the nausea welling inside him. Lord, how, in this sorry condition, would he be any use to Anne if she needed him? He could barely stay astride his horse!

With a supreme effort, Niall straightened. It didn't matter how he felt. He'd borne worse; battle was a pitiless arbitrator when it came to one's injuries. The rules were simple. Ignore the pain and continue fightingor die. And this time, it might be Anne's life that lay in the balance.

He cleared the top of the hill that overlooked the burn. Niall found her horse, grazing peacefully nearby, but no sign of Anne. His frantic gaze swept the area, finally following the little brook down to Loch Awe itself. There, well out in the lake, was a man, bent over someone. As Niall watched, the man shoved the limp form under the water.

''Cruachan!" Niall roared.

The man in the lake stiffened, then turned. An icy chill spread through Niall. It was Hugh, his hands clenched around Anne's neck. In the next instant he dropped her and began to move toward the shore. Anne slowly sank below the water. Rage exploded inside Niall.

He reached the water's edge just as Hugh gained the shore. With a powerful swipe of his arm, Niall knocked his cousin to the ground, then leaped from his horse and flung himself into the lake. He plowed through the water, his progress an eternity, but at last he reached Anne.

Niall pulled her into his arms. She was waxy pale, limp. "Annie," he rasped, "can you hear me? Lord, open your eyes, lassie." Niall turned, his long strides carrying them swiftly back to shore.

He lay her on the ground, tenderly brushing the wet, tangled hair from her face. A hollow, hopeless feeling swelled inside him, calling forth a memory of another time, another loss.

"Nay, not you, too, lassie," he whispered. With a ferocity he'd never known he possessed, Niall gathered her to him, pressing her tightly to his chest. "Not you, too."

"Move away, cousin."

Niall stiffened. Slowly, he lifted his head. Hugh stood before him, sword drawn, the familiar crazed light gleaming in his eyes.

He clasped Anne protectively to him. "Go to the devil! I won't give her to you!"

The tip of Hugh's sword came to rest against the side of Niall's neck. "She's a witch and I must be sure she's dead. 'Tis for the best, cousin. Unhand her, I say."

A fierce-burning fire in his eyes, Niall lowered Anne to the ground, then rose. He forced a casual motion in her direction. "You're right, o' course. Have at it then."

As he stepped toward Anne, Hugh's eagerness betrayed him. With a swift movement, Niall slammed into his cousin, knocking both of them to the ground. Hugh brought up his sword hilt, striking a blow to the side of Niall's head. Niall's grip loosened. Hugh rolled away.

Shaking the scattering of stars from his eyes, Niall sprang to his feet. His grip on his own sword was none too soon. With a wild cry, Hugh was upon him. Metal met metal as they traded blows. Hugh's madness lent him a power beyond most men. Niall backed off from his cousin's nearly overwhelming strength.

A metallic clang, irritatingly incessant, pierced the smothering fog surrounding Anne. Gradually, consciousness returned and she inhaled a painful, shuddering breath, then coughed. A choking spasm shook her. For a long, terror-filled moment, she thought she'd never breathe again. Then, bit by precious bit, the air began to fill her lungs.

She rolled over onto her stomach and expelled a weak groan. How it hurt to breathe! And her throat . . . At the realization of what had happened, of the danger she still might be in, Anne struggled to rise.

The effort proved fruitless. She had to content herself with raising her head. For a moment, confusion mingled with a nauseating weakness. Her world swirled before her. Then it righted.

The sight of Niall engaged in mortal combat with Hugh filled her with renewed strength. She pulled herself up to rest upon her elbows. He had come! Niall cared and had come to save her!

Hugh was tiring. Niall, however, though the sweat beaded his brow, appeared as fresh and strong as if he'd only begun to fight. His claymore moved with effortless ease, parrying each of Hugh's more awkward thrusts with battle-honed skill.

Relentlessly, Niall drove the other man backward, his face set in-grim determination. Hugh, scrambling away from the increasingly damaging blows, finally lost his footing. He fell, the sword still clasped in his hand.

Niall's blade found his throat. "Yield, cousin."

Hugh shook his head. "Nay," he gasped. "I won't yield to one who defends a witch. Kill her first. Then I'll surrender."

"You are mad." Frustration threaded Niall's voice. "Your unreasoning hatred has twisted your mind until you can no longer divine truth from fantasy." He resheathed his sword. "Be gone from me. You are banished from Kilchurn until you can find it in your heart to accept Anne."

Hugh struggled to his feet. "Y-you cannot! You haven't the authority."

Niall arched a dark brow. "Haven't I? Do you think my father would fail to back me in this?"

"Sheshe has bewitched you both!" Hugh's dark eyes narrowed. "You will see. The Campbell will soon die, no doubt helped along by her spells. But there's still you, then, isn't there? And you won't be fit to be chieftain, with your devil-whoring witch at your side. Something will still have to be done about you."

"And you're the one to do it, mayhap? Do you conceal your treachery behind a mask of false madness?"

Even as he spoke, Niall regretted his words. Hugh, even as a lad, had never been good at hiding his true intentions. And there was no point in belaboring the discussion at any rate. He'd never wring a willing confession from his cousin.

"Nay." Niall sighed, suddenly weary to the point of exhaustion. "Anne's no witch. 'Tis your madness that makes you see that." He motioned toward Hugh's horse. "Now, no more o' it. Your banishment stands. 'Tis death if I set sight upon you before you come to your senses.

His cousin glared at him. " 'Tisn't the end o' this, Niall. Don't think you've seen the last o' me. I'll be back to finish what I began this day, and no mistake!"

Hugh resheathed his sword and stomped off to his horse. With a despairing eye, Niall followed his cousin's progress until Hugh rode out of sight. One by one, his family was splitting apart. First Iain and now Hugh, both sent away by himand both because of Anne.

Nay, Niall quickly corrected himself, Iain had been sent away because he suspected him traitor. And Hugh, because he'd tried to kill Anne.

Anne!
Niall quickly turned and saw her sitting there, quite alive. For a fleeting moment he was overcome with the impulse to run to her, to gather her into his arms and tell her how thankful, how happy he was she had survived. But only for a moment.

The look in Anne's eyes was bitter. It rekindled the original emotions that had sent Niall out after her. The wench had the audacity to be angry with him, after all she'd just put him through? Well, two could play this game.

He strode over, refusing to be moved by her sodden, bedraggled appearance or by the purpling bruises on her neck and jaw. He surveyed her indifferently. "Well, madam? What have you to say? You seem determined to get yourself killed."

"And what do you care?" she was barely able to croak. "I'd have thought it would have solved all the problems our handfasting has caused you. Mayhap, for your own good, you were a bit too quick to arrive."

Something exploded in Niall. He pulled her up to him. "Little fool! Why do you say things like that? Why do" Ensnared in her tear-filled silver eyes, Niall couldn't continue. He gazed down at her and saw nothing but her delicately carved features, her soft, slightly parted lips.

Their glances locked. Something intense flared between them.

Anne's tearful defiance evaporated like the morning mists. Niall's overpoweringly masculine presence, towering above her, banished the memory of last night. Nothing mattered but this moment and the sweet reality of being in his arms. With a small moan, she laid her head upon his chest, her hands entwining about his neck.

Niall stiffened. His hands dropped. Afraid he'd push her away, Anne clung fiercely to him, pressing her body even more closely to his.

After a time weighted slowly on the passing wind, Niall groaned and wrapped his arms about her. "Och, Annie, Annie," he whispered into her damp tresses, "why do you persist in tormenting me? Do you know the terror I felt this mom when Agnes burst into my chamber and told me you'd gone riding alone? And then when I saw Hugh drowning you, I almost went mad!"

Anne clung to him, not quite sure she was understanding all she was hearing. Niall had been worried, even frantic over her leaving the castle alone? Was it possible? Did she actually mean something to him? If only it were so!

Then what about Nelly
? a small voice persisted in asking, squelching the rising joy.
Ask him about Nelly
.

Inhaling a deep breath, Anne released her grip. She leaned back to stare up at Niall. "There's no need to say things you don't mean, m'lord. I'm quite aware your tastes don't run to women such as myself."

A furrow wrinkled Niall's brow. "What are you talking about, lassie? What have I ever done or said to make you believe I don't find you attractive? As crude as my behavior was last night in your chamber, I'd hardly call it the act o' a man who didn't want you."

"Then why did you turn to Nelly?" Anne blurted the question in a painful rush of words, then immediately regretted them. Why, oh why, had she asked? Now he'd only smile smugly and inform her it was none of her business, that he'd do whatever he wanted with whomever.

"
Turn to Nelly
?"

For a long moment Niall couldn't fathom what Anne was talking about. Then the sickening realization struck him. Anne knew about his tryst with Nelly. But how?

"Who told you? Who"

"I saw you with her belowstairs!" Now that the truth was out, Anne couldn't seem to curb her words. "You were both half-naked and . . . and soon enough she had you completely exposed and her . . . her mouth was on your"

Niall gave her a small shake. "Enough, Annie. I believe you were there. But if you were, you must also know that was as far as it went. I couldn't go on."

She lowered her head. "I didn't see anything after that. I didn't stay. I couldn't bear it."

A gentle hand lifted her chin. Warm brown eyes met hers, and Niall's mouth curved up in the beginning of a beautiful smile. "Och, Annie, I didn't bed her. I swear it. She made the mistake of calling your memory back to me, and by then the liquor had begun to wear off. I realized 'twasn't her I wanted. 'Twas you."

He searched her face. Anne's expression was carefully blank, betraying nothing of what she was feeling. Niall sighed. "I know you've no reason to believe me, but I've never done that with a servant before. It doesn't condone my behavior, but I wanted you to know."

Anne cocked a skeptical brow. "Never lain with a servant? Then would you have me believe you came to your first marriage a virgin, m'lord?"

Niall rolled his eyes heavenward. "Lord, Annie, o' course I wasn't a virgin. I was as lusty as any lad. I suppose I meant I've never taken a servant or any other woman for that matter, since I wed. And that includes since my wife died."

"Truly."

Her flat response stirred Niall's growing exasperation. "You're determined not to make this easy for me, aren't you?" A wry grin touched his lips. "Well, I suppose I deserve it. I hurt you and now you're exacting a fair measure o' pain from me in return."

"I am not!" The denial was quick and hot. "II haven't a care one way or another what you do!"

"And I say
you
lie, Annie lass."

A spark of deviltry danced in his eyes, melting the last bit of Anne's resistance. She wanted to reach up and kiss him, feel, once again, his body respond to hers. At the thought, a sweet tremor shook her slender form.

Niall noticed the small shudder. "What a dolt I've been to keep you standing out here in this breeze, soaked to the skin as you are. If we don't get you out o' those wet clothes soon, you're sure to catch the ague."

Before Anne could protest it wasn't the cold that had her trembling, Niall swung her up into his arms and strode to his horse. He placed her atop the animal. In the next instant, he was sitting behind her.

Anne felt a momentary rush of disappointment in the failed opportunity for a kiss, then decided all was not lost. As Niall guided his horse to where her own mount waited, Anne comforted herself with the realization that, at long last, she'd managed to exact some admission of affection from the Campbell tanist. And, though a kiss would have been heavenly, riding back to Kilchurn in the strong embrace of his arms wasn't so bad, either.

After a hot bath and bracing toddy, Anne slept well into the afternoon. Then, quite refreshed, she rose and dressed. She decided to catch a breath of air up on the tower walk before seeking out the company of the Campbell, as was their late-afternoon habit.

The wind on the walk was strong. The flag bearing the Campbell arms of a fierce boar's head snapped briskly. Anne was soon forced to seek the shelter of the tower wall.