Child of the Mist (25 page)

But Anne, freed of the ties of kinship, had seen the man's true intent. It frightened her. Duncan cared little for his nephew's welfare. And it had begun to appear he wished for yet further conflict to weaken Niall's standing as the new chief.

But why?

Ena's words shot through her mind. "The young lord is in great danger. You must help him."

Fear prickled down Anne's spine. Niall was indeed in grave dangerhis position as chief yet unacknowledged, a dangerous enemy made in banishing his unstable cousin, and now his uncle who seemed bent on undermining him.

She glanced up. Niall strode along beside her, tall and proud, his broad shoulders resolutely squared.

Strong shoulders, aye, she mused, but increasingly weighted with new and more serious problems. Problems he'd no one to share with as, one by one, his closest advisers and family slowly slipped awayand all because of her.

For an instant, Anne's eyes burned with unshed tears. Then a fierce determination swelled within her. They were innocentshe and Niallof any wrongdoing, any fault, in this gathering storm of intrigue and betrayal. The time had come to fight.

And fight she would. She was vowed to the new Campbell chief, the enigmatic and tormented warrior who'd fought the battle for her heart and won. Aye, she'd stand by him to the end. Even if ultimately that end meant death.

The funeral procession wound up the road to the cemetery, the preacher at its head periodically ringing his brass bell, followed by the six clansmen carrying the coffin. Behind them marched the chieftain's personal retinuehis bard and bodyguards who carried his sword and shield, the standard-bearer, piper, then tatter or spokesman, and the two special men designated to carry the chief over running water. Niall came next, Anne at his side. The rest of the family followed. As the procession passed, the other mourners lining the road fell into place behind it.

The sun crept up from behind the hills, the cloud-shrouded sky dampening its light to a hazy glimmer. A misting of rain began to fall. One by one, the gathering pulled their plaids over their heads.

Thunder rolled in the distance. Anne winced at the sound. Wasn't the day miserable enough without the imminent threat of a downpour?

Gradually, a new sound intruded. The rhythmic thud of hoofbeats heading up the hill behind them must have caught Niall's attention as well. He turned. A dark scowl spread across his face. With a growing feeling of unease, Anne turned as well.

A man on a bay horse reined in at the back of the procession then flung himself down and began to make his way through the crowd. Though his dismount was quick, Anne caught a glimpse of his face. It was Iain.

Her unease spiraled as she glanced at Niall. His fists were clenched at his sides. A muscle ticked along his jaw. With the exhaustion that dogged his every movement and etched deep lines into his face, Anne knew the strain of dealing with Iain right now might be too much.

Niall was near his breaking point. He'd been functioning on sheer will alone for too long. But what could she do to ease the tension? How could she help him?

"A truce?" Anne whispered. "Til your father's buried?"

Niall leveled his gaze upon her, his blazing anger fading to one of flat accusation. "You turn my words upon me."

Anne calmly returned his gaze. "What's fair for the father is fair for the son. And, besides," she added, her eyes softening with concern, " 'tisn't the time or place to renew the battle between you. 'Tis no affront to you that Iain attends his uncle's funeral. Let it be for now."

He eyed her for a moment longer, then sighed. "Aye, lass, that I willfor now."

Niall awaited his cousin, his stance still rigid, but Anne knew now there'd be no fight. Her eyes met Iain's. She gave him a welcoming smile.

His mouth quirked in reply, then he riveted his attention on the dark-haired man standing before him. Iain's blond head lowered briefly in greeting. "I came as soon as I heard. I ask leave to attend the burying."

" 'Tis your right."

At Niall's emotionless reply, Iain exhaled a long breath. There was no forgiveness between them, he realized with a dull ache, only a brief peace for the sake of the dead Campbell chief.

He watched Niall stride on, his glance reuniting with Anne's for a fleeting moment before she turned and followed. Compassion warmed her silver eyes. Iain's gaze never left her as she walked away, a small, delicate contrast to his dark, fierce cousin. Far too kind and good for the likes of him.

Rage surged through Iain. Vainly, he fought back against the destructive emotion, against the frustration that followed quickly on the heels of the admission of his anger. His hands clenched and unclenched with the ferocity of his struggle.

Curse you, cousin,
he mentally flung the words at Niall's retreating back.
You don't deserve her, you arrogant, power-crazed fool! You don't deserve her
. . . .

Iain hesitated to knock on Anne's bedchamber door. Sound judgement cautioned against speaking with her, especially now, after all but being banished from Kilchurn. After the funeral, his cousin had lost no time summoning him into the castle's private meeting room.

There, all pretense had been flung aside. Niall had coldly informed him his continued presence was no longer desired. As soon as the meeting to confirm his chieftainship had met on the morrow, Iain was to return to his own lands.

He had considered swallowing his pride and, for the sake of kinship, attempting to make amends. But the hard, unyielding look in Niall's eyes had immediately squelched that. He'd be damned if he'd grovel, beg forgiveness for something that only existed in Niall's jealous imagination.

A large part of Niall's anger toward him had to be exactly that. Jealousy over his innocent friendship with Anne. Not that he didn't want her. He did. Iain was too honest to deny the truth.

But, until this moment, he'd never have considered betraying his cousin, nor attempt to convince his woman to leave with him. He'd risked Niall's wrath in even bringing up the topic of Anne's continued safety at Kilchurn. For his efforts, he'd received threats if he dared even think of seeing her again.

There was something seriously wrong with his cousin of late, but what it was remained a mystery. Surely the death of the Lady Anne Stewart hadn't addled Niall's brains. Iain had seen no sign of it before. But would jealousy turn a man as levelheaded as Niall into such an irrational, suspicious fool? Yet if it wasn't jealousy, what was it?

Well, whatever it was, Iain decided, with this last meeting his cousin's threats and unreasoning attitude had destroyed any lingering feelings of loyalty and affection. Though he wouldn't seek revenge, Iain no longer felt any commitment to support Niall, either.

Anne would be better off with him.
He
would treat her kindly, would give her the love she deserved. And, besides removing her from Niall's cruel presence, he was also rescuing her from the storm of animosity and false rumors rising against her.

In the few hours since his return to Kilchurn, Iain had already heard enough foul tales about Anne to justify a burning at the stake. No, he thought with a small shudder. His plan to take Anne away had come none too soon.

With renewed resolve, Iain knocked at her door. Anne's sweet face greeted him a moment later. He smiled.

"Iain?" Her brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "Why are you here?"

He glanced down the corridor then took a step closer. "I need to talk with you. May I come in?"

She shook her head. "Twouldn't be seemly. Agnes isn't here."

"More the better. What I have to say is best said in private." When she hesitated, Iain grasped her arm. "Please, Anne. You know you can trust me. I wouldn't ask if 'tweren't important."

She eyed him for a moment longer, then sighed. "I know, Iain." Anne stepped back. "Come in."

He waited until she closed the door, then motioned toward it. "Bolt the door. I don't want anyone walking in on us. I can always escape out the window."

Her eyes widened at the fierceness of his request, but Anne complied.

"What is it, Iain? What's wrong?"

" 'Tisn't safe for you here." He walked toward her and pulled her to him. "I want you to come away with me."

" 'Tisn't safe? Come away?" She shook her head. "Truly, Iain, you make no sense."

"Don't I, lass? I haven't been back a day and already I see naught has changed for you. Niall still treats you harshly, the people have yet to befriend you, and the witch talk about you grows to deadly proportions. You're in danger if you stay here another moment!"

"Och, Iain." Anne smiled and patted him on the cheek. "Always my friend and protector. But you needn't worry yourself over me. True, I've made little progress where the Campbell clan's concerned, but 'tis but a matter of time. And once they befriend me, I feel certain the rumors will die. So you see, 'tisn't as bad as you fear."

"And I say you are blind to the truth!" He captured the hand that lay upon his face and turned his lips to it. "You risk much in remaining here, and for what reason? Your vows to Niall?"

Iain lowered her hand to rest upon his chest. "Nay, Anne, you owe him naught. He broke the handfasting long ago when he failed to treat you kindly. Do you forget I was there when he promised to strive for your happiness and welfare?"

He paused when Anne's gaze moved from his. With a firm hand, he grasped her chin and turned her eyes back to his. "You know the truth as well as I, lass. Come with me. I'll love you, care for you as you truly deserve."

Anne sighed. She'd thought time and distance would ease that hunger burning in Iain's eyes. Did he realize how it tore at her heart to have to hurt him? But what choice had she now, even more than before?

"Nay, Iain," she whispered. "I can't go with you. To do so would ruin your life. Niall would come after us. He'd not give up until he killed you. I wouldn't have that upon my conscience."

"And I don't care!" Iain cried. I love you, Anne! 'Twould kill me if I left you here and something happened to you. Would you have
that
upon your conscience?"

"Nothing will happen." Her voice lowered to soothe his anguish. "Niall will protect me."

"Like hell he will!"

"I know he would, and so do you." Anne gently disengaged herself and stepped back. "There is more, Iain."

At the steady, solemn look she gave him, something inside Iain died. "He has bedded you, hasn't he?"

She gave him a sad little smile. "Nay, but it doesn't matter. I don't love him any less."

A grimace of pain twisted his handsome features. "Nay, Anne! Don't say it!"

"Would my lying change what is?" she asked softly.

"But surely he doesn't love you. I've seen no sign o' itin his actions or his words."

Anne lowered her head. "I think he feels something for me. 'Tis enough for now."

"Your goodness blinds you to the truth!" Iain pulled her to him. "You'd see that in time. I should take you away, with or without your consent. Far from his presence, you'd soon see your mistake."

"But you won't." She steadily returned his gaze.

He studied her for a long moment, then exhaled a deep breath. "Nay, I won't, for 'twould destroy what there is between us. But if anything happens to you, I swear I'll come back and kill Niall. I'll never forgive him if he doesn't protect you."

"He will. He's a good man."

A dark blond brow arched. "Is he now? I used to think so, but o'late I'm not so certain." Iain smiled down at her, a bittersweet light in his eyes. "I think you're mayhap blinded by your love."

She returned his smile. "Mayhap."

He sighed and released her. "Well, bemoaning what I can't have is pointless. Give me your word that if Niall ever fails you, you'll send word to me. I must know you'll do that at least."

"I know you're my friend."

"Promise me, Anne!"

Her smile widened. "Och, but you're the most persistent, pigheaded"

"Promise me," Iain persisted softly.

"I promise."

The look in his eyes as his gaze swept over her sent a sad despair rippling through Anne. She'd never meant to hurt him, but what else could she do? She'd sealed her fate when she'd admitted to loving Niall. There was no turning back.

Anne touched his arm. "You should go."

"Aye."

He made no move.

"Now, Iain." She gave him a small push.

Iain forced himself backward, his eyes never leav-

ing hers. When he reached the door, he paused. "Remember your promise, Anne."

"I will."

He slid aside the bolt and opened the door. Not looking back, Iain slipped from the room.

Niall gazed at the flickering tongues of fire lapping their greedy way through the pile of logs. He sat before the hearth, slumped in his chair. In his hand, he clasped an untouched glass of claret.

It was nearly midnight. The castle folk had long ago been sent to bed, but still he sat there, painfully, acutely awake. Niall's eyes burned fiercely. His exhaustion weighted him so heavily even the thought of getting up and walking to his bed required more effort than he was capable of. Yet the blessed reprieve of sleep still eluded him.

Disjointed thoughts whirled through his mind, mocking him with the futility of any possible solution. Duncan . . . Hugh . . . Iain.

Iain. He knew his cousin had been up to see Anne earlier this evening. Nelly, whose primary duties were centered in the kitchen when she was not lustily warming someone's bed, seemed to be all over the castle of late. She had come to him a few hours ago, still hopefully seductive, and informed him she'd passed by just as Anne had let Iain into her bed-chamber. Though Niall had thought to deflate her eager confidence with the comment that he knew all about the meeting, he sensed his ruse hadn't worked. Nelly hadn't looked convinced.

His grip about the wineglass clenched. Indeed, what
had
gone on between Anne and, Iain in her chamber? He'd wanted to trust her, thought he had, but the news of this latest liaison strained even his newly admitted affection for her. What possible reason could she have for letting Iain visit?