Child of the Mist (28 page)

It was early afternoon before Anne awoke to bright sunlight streaming into the bedchamber from the two stone-cut windows. She shifted, stretched lazily, then stiffened at the realization that this wasn't her own room or bed. A warm, hair-roughened body moved against her backside to draw her close.

Last night with its wildly, wonderfully passionate lovemaking came back to Anne in a rush. She smiled, a contented, secret woman's smile, and carefully turned in Niall's arms.

He was still asleep, his recklessly handsome face relaxed, his black mane of hair laying long and tousled on the pillow. For an instant Anne's gaze lingered on his firmly molded lips, lips that had given her such pleasure. Then her eyes, hungry for the sight of him, moved down the full length of his magnificent nakedness.

Niall lay there, completely exposed, the heavy fur thrown aside sometime in the night. Anne feasted her eyes on the broad, flat planes of his hair-whorled chest, admiring the smooth bronzed flesh beneath the dark, wiry crispness. His abdomen was a rippling undulation of muscle covered with a lighter growth of hair that narrowed into a dark river as it plunged down to his tautly sculpted groin.

Anne's glance lingered there, admiring the organ that had driven her to such heights of ecstasy. Even in sleep, Niall was a big man, the heated length of his manhood semi-turgid and full. She ached to touch him, to curl her fingers around that thick evidence of his need, to stroke him once again to full arousal. Anne's hand moved toward him, then fell away.

It would be selfish to wake him. She knew he must be exhausted. Even after their initial lovemaking, Niall hadn't slept for a long while, content to hold and stroke her until his passion flared again.

Their second coupling was gentle. Niall knew, even if she hadn't until he'd carefully sheathed himself within her, that she'd be sore. Her joy at having him quickly muted the discomfort. The eventual release was full of a quiet, yet ardently powerful pleasure.

Afterwards, they'd soon fallen asleep, warm and sated in each other's arms.

Gazing now at the steady rise and fall of Niall's broad, solid chest, Anne contented herself with the knowledge there'd be more of that same loving, time and time again. But, for a while longer, it was enough to let him sleep. Though the Chieftain's Council would meet soonmost likely in another two hour's time if the height of the sun were any indicationin the meanwhile, Anne meant to buy Niall all the rest she could.

She smiled down at him, then moved to slide out beneath the arm clasped so possessively over her hips. At the action, his hand tightened.

Niall's eyes opened to impale her with a questioning stare. "And where do you think you're going?" he growled in a sleep-thickened voice.

Anne's heart quickened as his slumberous glance raked her naked form. "You were asleep. I didn't want to wake you."

"And you see you were mistaken. Your attempt to leave has wakened me instead."

His throaty chuckle vibrated down the length of Anne's body, stirring her desire. The realization brought a flush to her face.

Was she that besotted with his body that all she could think of was coupling with him? She suddenly felt shy. Anne drew the fur up to cover her.

"II beg pardon," she stammered, blushing gorgeously. "Truly, I meant only to slip away and let you sleep."

With a dark scowl, Niall grasped the fur and wrenched it away, exposing her silken, long-limbed form. "Don't ever hide yourself from me again. You are mine in every way. There is no shame in our nakedness, or in our desire for each other."

His large hand cupped her chin, lifting her down-

cast eyes to his. ''You want me again, don't you, lass?"

Anne swallowed, hard against the tightness in her throat. "Aye."

Niall's mouth curved into a beautiful smile, one of pure, masculine delight. "And I want you, Annie lass."

He pulled her to him, his mouth moving to her face to caress her forehead, eyelids, then down her pert little nose to hover a breath away from her mouth. "I want you," he repeated huskily, "again and again and . . . again."

Anne sighed with happiness and snuggled contentedly against his hard strength. For a long while Niall stroked the sleek line of her waist, hip, and thigh, his look of unguarded pleasure gradually deepening to a thoughtful frown. Her hand moved to stroke his hardening jaw.

"What is it, Niall? What makes you scowl so?"

He raised tormented eyes to her. "You said there'd be no other man but me. Did you truly mean it, or were they but love words, spoken in the heat o' passion?"

Even in his strength Niall was vulnerable, vulnerable because he'd let himself care for her. There was no other explanation for a question such as his. The knowledge sang through Anne with a fierce, exultant joy. She nodded, a soft smile curving her lips.

"Aye, I meant it," she admitted with sweet candor. "You know now I was a maiden when you took me. I told you I loved you. Did my response to you last eve play false my words?"

Niall's eyes smoldered at the memory. "Nay, but still. I have one favor to ask, one last proof, let us say, o' your love for me."

Anne exhaled a long, unsteady breath. "And, pray, what is it?"

He unwaveringly returned her gaze. "I want your promise you won't speak to or be alone with Iain again."

Niall's request left her speechless. How could he ask such a cruel thing? It spoke more eloquently than words of his continued distrust. But was it just of Iain and his possible motives or of her, too? Bitter resentment warred with the knowledge that trust was the rarest of luxuries where a traitor was concerned.

Anne laughed, the sound ragged. "And what will that oath win me? Your undying devotion?"

"Don't mock me!" Niall's fingers dug into the soft flesh of her hip.

"Mock you?"

With a grimace of pain, Anne rolled away from him, scooting off the bed. Stalking to where her bed robe lay, she picked it up and flung it about her. Then she rounded on Niall.

"How can you believe I still mean to betray you after what we shared last eve? Do you think I could give myself to you like I did if, in my heart, I was plotting your death? What kind o' woman do you think I am?"

His brows lifted sardonically and he shrugged. "Women have always used their bodies to get what they wanted."

"Do you seriously think I coupled with you to win your confidence?" Anne cried in outrage. "To lull you into thinking I'm not one o' your traitors? And all the while 'twas Iain's arms I wished to be in?"

Anne's words drove home. Niall flushed in guilty embarrassment. "Nay, Annie, I didn't mean that. I only asked that you not see nor talk with Iain. Lord." He sighed. "I didn't realize I was asking such a sacrifice. I withdraw my request."

"Nay." Anne strode over to stand beside the bed, her silver eyes flashing her displeasure. "Nay, Niall.

You spoke the words, now explain them. Why don't you want me talking with Iain?"

He shot her a hot, angry look. "Because I fear he'll try to use you to get to me and, in the end, destroy us both!"

She returned his gaze and a thoughtful frown puckered her brow. "You don't know your cousin very well, do you?"

"If you mean to defend him"

"Why are you so certain 'tis Iain?" Anne demanded. "What o' Cousin Hugh and Uncle Duncan?"

"What o' them?" Niall drawled coolly.

Incredulity widened her eyes. "Are you saying you've never considered either o' them? Hugh's mad with' ambition, not to mention just plain mad. And Duncan." Anne shivered. "Duncan is cold and heartless. There's something about him . . ."

"Why not add my bastard uncle Malcolm?" Niall offered dryly. "Though a man o" the cloth, mayhap he, too, dreams o' wearing the chief's feathers. Nay, Anne. Because they don't like you is no reason to accuse them o' treachery."

"Yet you accuse one who does like me o' it! I'm not so blind or so emotional that I cannot set aside my personal differences and clearly see the truth o' the matter," she countered, stung by his arrogant assumption to the contrary. "You accuse me o' the same bias you have against Iain."

"That isn't true."

Anne's hands fisted at her hips. " 'Tisn't it? You've resented Iain's attentions to me from the start. Yet what, aside from that, has Iain done to deserve your suspicion?"

"He has much to gain from my death."

"And what o' Hugh and Duncan? Would they not profit as well? They, too, stand in line for the chief-tainship. And have you ever considered others in your clanyour lairds, any outlaws you may have banished? Only a fool closes himself to all possibilities."

"Are you calling me a fool?" Fury flashed in Niall's dark eyes. "Next you'll be calling me a liar and you know how I feel about that!"

He climbed off the bed to tower over her. "And, aye, damn you. I
have
and am still considering others."

For an instant, Anne was cowed by his naked masculinity. Then defiance flared. She gazed up at Niall with mutinous eyes. He glared back.

Suddenly, in a long overdue rush of perspective, the total ridiculousness of their argument struck her. A giggle bubbled to her lips.

"What's so amusing?" Niall demanded with narrowed eyes.

"Why, that we're both fools!"

A sound a lot like a soft laugh escaped, in spite of Anne's best intentions not to make Niall any angrier. "Here we are, fighting each other, expending all our efforts in a battle royal, while the traitor stands back and watches. He's no need to do more than that. We'll gladly destroy each other for him."

Amusement tugged at the corners of Niall's lips. The tenseness eased from his body. "We really should join forces."

Anne's expression sobered. "Are you saying you trust me?"

He smiled at her in gentle understanding. "You won't cease until you've forced that admission from me, will you, lass?"

"Nay, m'lord."

"You're a stubborn, defiant little wench."

"Aye, m'lord."

Niall sighed in exasperation. "My name is not 'm'lord'."

She grinned. "Aye, Niall."

His arms opened. "Come here, lass."

With a delighted chuckle, Anne went to him and he carried her down to lie beside him on the bed. She kept the bed robe tightly wrapped about her. Niall's eyes skimmed the offending garment meaningfully.

"I'd like you better without that."

A delicate brow arched in thoughtful consideration. "Do you now? Well, mayhap I'll shed it, and mayhap I won't. I can't quite decide, with my question still unanswered."

"And what question was that?"

A hesitant little smile trembled on her lips. "Do you trust me, Niall?"

His gaze was fiercely tender as he scanned her sweet features. "Aye, lass," he whispered achingly. "I trust you."

Anne slipped the garment from her shoulders and crept into the warm, welcoming haven of his arms. Niall's hands moved down her back, molding her tighter and tighter to the hard length of his body. He leaned over to touch his tongue to her lips, teasing, coaxing them apart. At his insistent probing, she opened. His tongue plunged suggestively into her mouth, and pleasure shuddered through Anne.

Niall's musky scent enveloped her, filling her with the desire to surrender to the needs he stirred within her. Anne's hand slid between them, seeking the hot, swollen organ pressing so eagerly at the junction of her thighs. Och, how they could fight, yet the loving was just as powerful.

The bedchamber door slammed open. In a few swift moves, Niall swung over to grab the dirk that hung by his bed, then shoved Anne behind him.

"Niall!" Caitlin cried as she swept into the room oblivious to the fact her brother wasn't alone. "A murrain! The cattle have a murrain!"

The girl halted, finally noticing Anne huddled behind her naked brother. Caitlin paled, then col-

ored fiercely. Anger quickly replaced the shock.

Her turquoise eyes flashed as she first looked at Anne, then Niall. "So, brother-dear," Caitlin ground out the words through clenched teeth, "While our father is barely cold in the grave and our cattle are dying of a pestilence, you lie here abed. And the one woman you choose to couple with is the witch responsible for it all!"