As the words fell from Niall’s lips, Anne’s horrified gaze sought out Duncan. A humble half smile lifted his mouth but, for a fleeting instant, she caught an exultant gleam. Was it the triumph of a traitor, or just an ambitious man?
The men rose from the table to congratulate the new tanist, then left for the chief’s installation ceremony. Iain stood there, staring at Niall, who grimly returned the favor. Finally Duncan clapped his son on the back.
“Come, have ye no congratulations for yer father?” Duncan inquired jovially. “Allow an old man a few years of power. Then it’ll be yer turn.”
Iain wrenched his gaze from Niall to stare blankly at his father. “What? Och, aye, ye’re to be complimented on attaining such a high position. May ye bring the wisdom of years Niall so dearly desires.”
He wheeled about and strode from the chamber before his father could utter a reply. Duncan frowned at his son’s retreating back, then turned to Niall. “The lad’s disappointed, that’s all,” he said with an apologetic grin.
“I care not for Iain’s feelings in this,” Niall snapped. “As long as he swears fealty in the ceremony, I’ll be content.”
“Och, he will, and no mistake. The lad’s as loyal as they come.”
“So it’d appear,” was Niall’s sardonic reply. He motioned for his uncle to precede him. “The ceremony draws nigh. See to the final preparations. I’ll meet ye in the Great Hall in ten minutes’ time with the Lady Anne.” He raised his hand to silence Duncan’s attempted protest. “She’s my wife in all but marriage vows and, as such, lady of this castle and our clan. We’ll forget what was spoken in this chamber and start afresh. Agreed, Uncle?”
Duncan hesitated then reluctantly nodded his head. “Agreed, m’lord.”
Anne headed down the corridor to her bedchamber, grateful the feast wouldn’t begin for another hour. The tension-fraught atmosphere of the council chamber, combined with the ordeal of the installation ceremony, had drained her energy. The past three days had been exhausting, full of pain as well as joy. Only now, at long last, was she finally able to relax.
Och, what I wouldn’t give for a nice, hot bath, Anne thought with a wistful sigh. If only there were time . . .
Distracted, she rounded the corner and slammed into a hard male body. Sturdy hands grasped her arms to steady her. Anne stared up into dark eyes only a few inches higher than hers.
They were cold eyes. As they gazed down at her, a humorless smile touched the man’s lips.
“So where are ye going, my wee witch?” Malcolm Campbell inquired. “To procure some potion to put into the Campbell’s drink? Or mayhap to chant a few incantations over yer witch fires to hasten the death of our cattle?”
Anne jerked free. “I do no such thing! Yer unreasoning hatred blinds ye to the truth!”
A bushy brow lifted in amused tolerance. “Och, angry are ye now at being caught in yer devilish schemes?” Once more, Malcolm grabbed her by the arms, pulling her close. “Yer time’s short, devil’s spawn. Ye’ve bewitched the Campbell with yer seductive powers, but my powers are stronger still. Mine are the thumb and leg screws, and the fires of the stake. Think ye to prevail against them?”
At the fanatical gleam in Malcolm’s eyes, fear shot through Anne. He meant to see her dead. She struggled wildly in his arms. “Let me go, I say!” she cried. “If Niall should hear—”
“He’s not fit to rule us,” the preacher hissed. “His soul’s lost. Even when ye’re gone, the spell can’t be undone. He’ll have to be tried and burned as the witch’s consort that he is.”
Niall. She had never thought of that horrifying consequence. But Niall had defended her and, in that defense, had come perilously close to insulting the Kirk and denigrating its fanatical witch persecutions. Men and women had been burned for far less.
Fear for him drove Anne to the edge of panic. “Ye mustn’t blame him for his loyalty to me,” she said in an anguished whisper. “He’s a decent, God-fearing man. I beg ye. Don’t punish him for whatever crimes ye think I may have committed.”
“And what crimes are they, lassie?” Malcolm prodded smoothly, his dark eyes gleaming, mesmerizing in their sudden intensity. “Tell me now. Mayhap there’s yet time to save the Campbell.”
Dizziness swirled through Anne. The past days had drained her more than she realized. She couldn’t seem to find the strength to fight back.
“That’s enough, cousin!”
Iain’s deep voice wrenched Anne from the hypnotic spell of Malcolm’s gaze. In a stunned slow motion, she turned toward him. He looked angry, but why, Anne didn’t know.
“Release her!” Iain demanded. “Now!”
Malcolm freed Anne abruptly. If not for Iain’s quick leap to her side, she would’ve lost her balance and fallen.
“Ye tread where ye shouldn’t go,” the preacher warned. “Best ye leave while yer soul’s yet untainted by this woman.”
“Nay.” Iain shook his head. “Best ye leave before I forget ye’re family, and smite ye for yer cruel words to this lady.”
Malcolm’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Ye wouldn’t dare! I’m a man of the cloth.”
“At this moment, ye’re not fit to claim such protection. Now, get out of my sight!”
The preacher backed away, his face mottled in rage. “Young fool! Beware the witch or ye’ll rue it to yer dying day!” He stalked away.
Anne inhaled a shuddering breath. “Ye shouldn’t anger him, Iain.
He has the power to be a deadly foe.”
“The man’s a fool,” Iain muttered. “Did he hurt ye, lass?”
She shook her head. “Nay. But the threats he made against Niall . . . Och, Iain, what am I to do?”
“It’s as I said before,” he murmured, tenderly stroking her cheek. “Come away with me, Anne.”
At his touch, the memory of her promise to Niall came to mind. Remorse surged through her, but she steeled herself to the difficult task. She had given her word and would support Niall in any way she could, even if it meant denying herself the harmless pleasure of Iain’s company. Even if it meant hurting him.
With a resolute sigh, Anne stepped back. “Nay, Iain. It’s as I said before. My place is with Niall.” She gave him a gentle shove. “Now, get on with ye and don’t attempt to speak with me again.”
Iain frowned. “And why not? Has Niall forbidden that too?”
“I gave him my word.” Anne’s voice broke. “Please try to understand.”
“Och, I understand,” he ground out. “The man’s jealousy has rotted more than his heart. It has now rotted his mind. This is beyond tolerance!”
Anne grabbed his arm as he turned to leave. “Ye’re not going to see Niall, are ye?”
“Aye, that I am. I’ll have it out with him, once and for all.”
“Nay, Iain,” she implored. “I beg ye—”
“Let him go, Anne.”
At the flat command, Anne swung around. Niall stood there in the corridor leading from the Great Hall. In a few quick strides, he was upon them. Gently, he pried Anne’s fingers loose and moved her aside. Then, in a quick move, Niall grabbed his cousin by the throat, slamming him against the wall.
“I’ve told ye time and again to stay away from her,” he said, his voice low and savage. “What more will it take? A dirk between yer ribs?”
Anne grasped Niall’s arm, tugging frantically. “Stop it! Stop it, I say! Don’t do this, Niall!”
He shrugged her aside, his glance never leaving Iain’s.
Iain’s hand encircled Niall’s wrist and clamped down tightly on it. “Release me now,” he said in a soft voice, “or there’ll be more than one dirk drawn this eve.”
Panic rose in Anne. They meant to fight each other. Neither man’s pride would allow him to back down. She glanced wildly around, searching for help, and found none. Then, in a flash of inspiration, she relieved Niall of the dirk that hung at his side before hurrying around to take Iain’s.
Iain’s hand stayed hers. Anne’s gaze met his. “Let it go, Iain.”
He eyed her for a long moment then released her hand. Anne withdrew his dirk.
Without warning, she turned and pressed Niall’s own dagger against his ribs. He stiffened, going quiet and still, but maintained his grip on Iain.
“Do ye mean to kill me, lass?” He never shifted his gaze from that of his cousin’s. “If ye do, make yer first thrust deep and sure. Otherwise, I swear I’ll break his neck before I die.”
“And ye’re a great brute of a fool,” Anne muttered in disgust, “if ye think I mean to kill ye. I only wanted to get that pigheaded attention of yers.” She pressed the dirk a little deeper, until its tip pricked his skin. “Do I finally have it?”
“Aye,” Niall said through gritted teeth. “Say what ye have to say, and be quick about it!”
“Ye’re wrong to treat Iain thusly.”
“I told him to stay away from ye!”
Anne smiled. “Aye, but I’m the one who gave my word, not Iain. Why aren’t ye throttling me against that wall instead?”
Niall shot her a furious glance. “One thing at a time. I’ll see to ye later.”
“And will ye also see to Malcolm?” she persisted sweetly.
“Malcolm?” Niall scowled, puzzled. “What has my uncle to do with this?”
“He was threatening me, warning me of the dire consequences in store for not just me, but ye, if I continued with my witchcraft.
Iain,”—she motioned toward the younger man—“rescued me from yer churlish cousin. And, just as ye arrived, I was informing him that I couldn’t speak with him again. Let Iain go.” Anne slid Niall’s dirk back in its scabbard. “Ye’ve falsely accused him.”
The request was uttered in a low voice, but the authority beneath it was commanding, nonetheless. Niall hesitated, then released Iain and stepped back. Neither man, however, relaxed his rigid stance nor extinguished the battle-ready look in his eyes.
“Ye owe Iain an apology,” came the soft voice beside Niall.
His jaw hardened. “If it’s truly as Anne says, I beg pardon.”
Iain rubbed his bruised throat. “It changes naught, and ye know it. I don’t want yer apology, nor will I accept it.”
Anne touched him on the arm. “Iain, please.”
He rounded on her. “Leave it be, lass. Ye’ve made yer choice, and that choice is for him. It’s time ye start living with the consequences of his arrogance and mistrust. I only hope he doesn’t destroy ye in the process of destroying himself.
“And ye,” Iain said hotly, his glance swinging back to Niall. “I’m not so sure I made the wisest choice in the council. And that’s a decision I may live to regret.” Without another word, Iain strode away.
Tears filled Anne’s eyes, but they were ones of fury. “How could ye treat him like that?”
Niall studied her impassively. “I apologized. What more do ye want?”
Her fists clenched at her sides. “And did ye convince Iain of yer sincerity? I think not! Ye could’ve tried harder, Niall Campbell!”
A look of utter weariness flooded Niall’s eyes. “Aye, mayhap I could’ve. But this has been a trying day, and my patience is worn to its breaking point.” He gathered Anne into his arms. “I’ll seek Iain out and try again on the morrow. But only for yer sake,” he hastened to add, seeing the joyous light flare in her eyes. “I still dare not trust him. Not him, nor any man.”
She flung her arms about his neck. “Och, my love, ye’ll not regret it. I swear it!”
He smiled down at her. “Mayhap. Now, where were ye going?”
“To my chamber for a short rest before the feast.”
A dark brow arched in feigned consideration. “If things were different, if we hadn’t made that cursed pact, I’d be joining ye there, ye know.”
Excitement shot through her. Ah, but it was so good to be wanted by a man such as Niall Campbell! Still, as much as he tempted her, Anne knew she could never come to him in such a way.
Her arms fell from his neck. “But we did make the pact and are honor bound to keep it.”
“Aye, honor bound,” he repeated softly. “For a time more, I’m thinking. A verra short time more.”
“Until God tells us otherwise.”
Niall’s mouth twitched. “Are ye saying I need to be talking all this over with the Lord, then?”
She grinned and tossed her head of russet curls. “It’d be an excellent place to start, m’lord. His wisdom far surpasses ours, ye know.” Anne offered him her arm, and he took it. “Now, if ye will, pray accompany me to my bedchamber door. Though ye slew a passel of dragons at the chief’s council, I fear there are yet a few more lurking about.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Well, then as a newly proven dragon slayer, I’m just the man to protect ye,” he said and proceeded to escort her down the hall.
Late the next morning, after a feast that lasted well into the night, Anne rose just in time to share a quick breakfast of porridge and cream with Niall before he headed off to his daily duties. At Anne’s request, Agnes then had a bath drawn. Anne was soon lost in contemplation as she enjoyed the soothing water and her maid scrubbing her head.
Her thoughts harked back to last eve’s encounter with Malcolm. Though Niall had discounted his cousin’s threats, Anne was still worried. The man had the power of religion behind him, and that power wasn’t easily discounted. Not when Niall’s very life hung in the balance.
She’d do anything to protect him—anything. And that included giving up her healing. She had never thought she could ever compromise on such a vital issue, never imagined she’d be willing to sacrifice the good of many for just one. But Anne had never envisioned loving a man as deeply, as completely, as she loved Niall Campbell. And his life held precedent over everything else.
In time, the animosity toward her would cool. She’d be accepted. In the meanwhile, it was too dangerous to sit by and allow things to take their natural course. She had already given her word she’d not heal in Kilchurn, but Anne knew now there was yet more she must do.
If the clacking tongues were to be silenced, her visits to Ena must stop. Her store of potions and salves had to be discarded, or they could be used as evidence against her. And her secret garden in the forest must be destroyed. Every threat to Niall’s safety must be eradicated. Her physical presence in Kilchurn was problem enough. She’d not knowingly add more.
When her bath was done, she dressed in a simple gown of deep blue wool, then hurried to the chest where she kept her herbal medicines. Not bothering to hide her actions from Agnes, she began to carry the jars to the privy, where she dumped their contents down the long chute. Her task, painful as it was, was carried out with fierce determination. Only when Anne reached the last of the jars did her resolve waver.
The container of dried foxglove caught her gaze. She had gathered the potent leaves under Ena’s watchful eye. Under that same thorough tutelage, Anne had learned of the plant’s curative, if sometimes deadly, powers. Holding the jar up now for a final, regretful appraisal, her heart skipped a beat.
She had put the container away full and had never had the opportunity to use any of the plant, yet the jar was now half empty. There was enough foxglove missing to kill twenty men!
Anne’s throat went dry. She rose on unsteady legs and, the jar clasped in her hand, sought out Agnes.
The old maidservant was next door in Niall’s bedchamber, sprinkling sweet woodruff on the freshly laid rushes. Anne crossed the room to shut the door, then returned to Agnes’s side. She held up the jar of foxglove.
“Have ye taken any of this plant for some ailment, whether yers or some other’s?” Anne demanded, her heart now pounding in her chest. “If so, tell me true, Agnes. There’ll be no punishment.”
Agnes’s eyes widened. “Nay, m’lady. I’ve never been in that chest. I know naught of the healing art and would never presume to treat anyone from it.”
“This jar’s half empty. The last time I looked in my chest, it was full.”
“Truly, m’lady. I haven’t knowledge of such things.”
Anne sighed. She trusted the old woman, yet someone had taken the leaves. But who? And why? “Have ye seen any looking in my chest, Agnes?”
“Nay, m’lady.”
“Then who has access to this room? Who could come in here and not be found suspicious? I must discover who took these leaves.”
Agnes pondered that for a moment. “Almost any of the female household staff. And even, on occasion, some of the male staff, as well. Like just now when they removed the old rushes and brought in fresh ones. We rarely lock the chambers in Kilchurn.”
“Aye, that I know,” Anne muttered, remembering Caitlin’s unexpected, and most unappreciated, arrival yestermorn in the library.
Uneasiness crept through her as she headed to the privy with the jar. Mayhap it was just a well-intentioned servant bent on curing some relative of the dropsy. There were others who knew the healing art besides her and Ena. Mayhap the servant had come upon her chest one day by accident and had merely helped herself to some of the herbs there. Until she had reached the foxglove, Anne really hadn’t paid much attention to the exact amounts left in the jars. Mayhap that servant had taken samples of most of the chest’s contents.
But what if there were nothing missing but the foxglove? And what if the leaves had been stolen for more sinister purposes? There was no known antidote to the plant’s heart-slowing and eventual heart-stopping effects. Only time and the body’s own abilities to rid itself eventually of the drug could save a victim of overdose. And only if that overdose were discovered and halted in time.
Fear rippled through Anne. Och, dear Lord, don’t let my herbs become an instrument of someone’s death! Not now, not when my position in Clan Campbell is yet so precarious. It’d be the end of everything. Everything.
Anne quickly finished disposing of the remaining herbs. Then, grabbing up a trowel that she slipped into a fold of her skirt, she made her way back to Niall’s room. Agnes glanced up from her sprinkling of the last of the sweet woodruff.
“Where are ye going, m’lady?”
Though she didn’t wish to alarm the old woman, Anne knew it would be wise to let someone know where she was headed. “I go to my herb garden in the forest. I won’t be there long.”
Agnes frowned. “Ye shouldn’t go alone. Let me accompany ye.”
“Nay.” Anne shook her head. “I’ll be careful. If I’m not back within the hour, ye can tell Niall.”
“An hour is time enough for harm to befall ye,” the maidservant muttered. “At least take the stable man. He won’t talk about what he sees. He and Maudie are too grateful for what ye did for their wee Davie.”
Anne sighed and nodded her acquiescence. “As ye wish. I’ll fetch Angus on my way out of the castle.” Agnes’s look of relief was enough to make her smile. “I’m a trial to ye at times, aren’t I? I’d imagine the other Anne never gave ye a moment’s trouble.”
The old woman grinned. “Well, she wasn’t as headstrong or impulsive. But then she didn’t have yer fire or fierce spirit, either. Ye’re a different woman, to be sure, but as perfect a mate for the Campbell as they come. So, don’t concern yerself with another woman’s ghost. The young lord loves ye for yer own self. There’s naught more that matters.”
Anne sighed. “He hasn’t said he loves me, Agnes. Not that I’m complaining,” she hastened to add. “What he does give me is wonderful. But I don’t know if he’ll ever love me. I think that emotion may have died with his first wife.”
“And I say ye’re mistaken, lassie. What the young lord truly feels and what he recognizes can be two different things. I’ve known him since he was a lad, and I tell ye true. He’s happier now, even in the midst of all these troubles, than he has been since the Lady Anne died. He loves ye, and no mistake. He’ll see it soon enough.”
At Agnes’s words, a fierce joy leaped within Anne. “I pray yer words come to pass. In the meanwhile, I can’t stand idly by and allow others to control our lives. I must do all within my power to help Niall. And the one thing more that needs tending to is my herb garden.”
In a determined flurry of skirt and petticoats, Anne headed for the door.
Nelly saw Anne leave. A pleased smile twisted the corners of her darkly pretty face. The MacGregor wench was naively unaware that her every movement was being watched. Watched, weighed, and reported back to Nelly’s master. He had paid her well, in and out of bed, to spy on Anne. And it had been money easily earned. As easy as was the theft of the foxglove leaves from the chest in her bedchamber.
Keeping to the shadows as best she could, Nelly followed Anne and the stable man from the castle and into the forest, until she was certain of the other woman’s eventual destination. The fool, Nelly thought as she slipped away as unnoticed as she had come. The wench assumed everyone was unaware of that herb garden of hers.
Well, it had served her master’s purpose to let her think so up until now. But when Nelly supplied him with the news Anne was there once again, mayhap this time her presence there could finally be used to her downfall. Mayhap she could at last convince her master to kill the MacGregor wench. A crossbow’s quarrel straight through her heart would leave no witness or suspect.
Then Nelly could devote all her efforts to comforting the bereaved clan chief. Her pace quickened. That particular errand of mercy would be sweet. Very sweet, indeed!
Niall’s first order of the day was to find Iain. Though he loathed attempting to apologize a second time, he had promised Anne and would see it through. Summoning up the right amount of enthusiasm would be another matter. Not that he wasn’t sincerely grateful to Iain for rescuing Anne from Malcolm. The preacher would be seen to later and receive a stern warning, with dire consequences if it happened again.
But to feel any warmth for Iain or dare lower his guard was out of the question. Though Niall knew it was foolhardy to suspect his cousin to the exclusion of all others, it still served him best to have Iain gone from Kilchurn. If nothing else, he didn’t need the added distraction of Iain panting after Anne.
Aye, it was far wiser to send him away, Niall resolved. What went against his grain was having to thank his cousin in one breath, then in the next order him back to Balloch Castle. Unintended or not, of late he was beginning to feel the fool in nearly all his interactions with his family.
As he strode across the Great Hall, frustration roiled within him. A fool indeed . . . And he had the traitor to thank for that.
Iain was in the library, according to a passing servant Niall questioned. He took the steps to the first landing in several quick strides, then stalked down the hall.
The blond man glanced over his shoulder when Niall entered the room. A wary look in his deep blue eyes, he replaced a leather-bound volume on the shelf and turned to meet him.
Niall inhaled a steadying breath and approached his cousin. “My gratitude yestereve was lacking. I truly thank ye for helping Anne.”
“She’s in grave danger here,” Iain said, dispensing with the amenities. “Ye should let her go. Now, before it’s too late.”
Niall stared at him, incredulous. “And who are ye to tell me what to do with her? If ye recall, I’m the one handfasted to Anne, not ye.”
“Yet it seems I’m the one most concerned about her welfare,” Iain shot back. “If ye weren’t so stubborn, ye might see that. She isn’t some prize to be held, no matter the cost. Anne’s a living, breathing woman with a life to lose.”
“And ye doubt my ability to keep her safe?”
Iain saw the anger darken Niall’s eyes. He knew he trod on dangerous ground. For Anne’s sake, though, Niall must be made to face the reality of her danger.
“Ye saw how difficult it was to win over the council, how many were willing, nay, eager, to attack ye. And the strongest argument of all was the allegation of Anne’s witchcraft. Those aren’t accusations ye can choose or not choose, like infidelity or barrenness, to deal with in yer woman. If she’s convicted, she’s in violation of the law—and ye know what the punishment is!”
“I don’t need ye telling me the obvious,” Niall ground out. “I told ye. I’ll take care of her!”
“And if ye fail, what then, Niall?”
“It won’t happen!”
Iain took a step closer and gazed into Niall’s eyes. “If it does, I swear I’ll kill ye.”
Niall returned the look of deadly earnestness. “Ye’ll never have that opportunity. I’ll be dead before I let anything happen to her.”
His cousin gave a mocking laugh. “Indeed, ye might be, but then what’ll become of Anne, alone and at the mercy of her enemies?” He gripped Niall’s arm. “Send her away before that happens, Niall. Swear to me ye’ll at least do that!”
Hesitation plucked at him. What if Iain’s dire predictions came to pass? If the traitor found some way to kill him, what would become of Anne?
Duncan would be chief, and Duncan, at the very least, disliked Anne. Would Malcolm’s fanatical ravings influence Duncan against her? And if Hugh was brought back from exile . . .
Of all his family, Iain was the only one who seemed truly to care for Anne. Niall knew that with a sudden certainty that startled him. Cared for her above and beyond whatever use he might have for her in his role as traitor. If something happened to him, Anne would be safe with Iain.
But even to consider giving Anne over to another! Niall knew Anne cared for Iain, if only in a sisterly fashion. But that could change, given time and his absence.
Iain was a handsome, charming man. The trail of broken hearts, however unintentional, his blond cousin always left in his wake was ample testimony to that. Aye, Anne could well come to love Iain. But to imagine her with another, whispering her love as she lay in his arms . . . It was like a knife gutting his insides!
Still, the time might well come when he’d have to let her go. To save her life, he’d do anything, even if it meant giving her up. But that time had yet to arrive, Niall reminded himself, and he’d not give Iain the pleasure or any premature advantage over him by admitting that possibility.
He was now the Campbell. Now was not the time to show weakness or hesitation. Not to Iain, or anyone.
Niall shook his head. “I won’t swear that or aught to ye, cousin. Though yer concern for Anne’s commendable, if concern is truly what it is, it changes naught. She’s mine, and mine she’ll remain.”
“And that’s all ye have to say? All ye’ll do?”
“Aye, for the time being.”
“Ye’re a fool, Niall Campbell!”
Niall took a step forward. “Nay, Iain,” he said softly. “Ye’re the fool, for ye’ve finally gone too far. Get ye to Balloch Castle this verra day or I’ll send ye to the dungeon.”
Iain opened his mouth to challenge Niall, then thought better of it. If he were drawn into a battle with the Campbell, a battle he might well lose even if it were but of words, Anne would be the one to suffer. And, in the end, this was all about her welfare.
Better to make a strategic retreat, lull Niall into a false sense of victory. It was a bitter pill to swallow, backing down from a man he felt the match of, but Iain knew where his priorities lay. Anne’s life was of more import than his pride.
Free, he could still be of use to her. Clapped in chains in Kilchurn’s dungeon, he was helpless. Iain forced a grim smile and bowed low. “It’ll be as ye say, m’lord. This verra day I depart for Balloch Castle.”