Child of the Mist (44 page)

Hugh's hands roamed over her body, tugging at Anne's clothes, while the weight of his body pressed down, pinning her to the bed. She struggled against him in rising panic, flinging her head from side to side to evade his hard, wet mouth. A large hand captured her breast, squeezing it viciously.

Anne cried out, then stilled. Hugh's fingers found her nipple, teasing it to a hardened nub.

He grinned down at her. "You like that, don't you, little slut? I thought as much." He grasped her hand and guided it to his groin, fitting her fingers to his swollen arousal. "You'll like
that
even more, once 'tis inside you."

"P-please," Anne forced her voice into a husky plea, "let me feel your flesh beneath my hand. Och, I want it so!"

"Then have it," Hugh rasped, his breath ragged with desire. "Have it all!"

He took her hand and slid it inside his trews. Anne's fingers glanced off the key, laying warm and metallic beside his aroused organ. She controlled the impulse to grab it.
Too soon,
she told herself. '
Tis too soon
.

Hugh covered her mouth with his as he began to rub himself against her. Anne fought down the surge of renewed nausea, willing her mind to remain clear.
Bide your time, Annie girl,
she inwardly cried against her rising fear and disgust.
Your chance will come
.

From somewhere, Anne heard a strange thudding sound. She wrenched her attention from Hugh's groaning sighs and found the source of the new noise. It was coming from the door. Someone was pounding on it!

She heard a voice, calling her name. Niall's voice! Anne grabbed for the key, tugging it free. Hugh yelped angrily and reared back from her. With one hand he grabbed Anne's wrist, capturing the hand that held the key. With his other, he slapped her hard across the face.

Anne gave a strangled cry. From somewhere deep within her, an instinctual feminine reflex responded. Her knee jerked up and jammed hard into Hugh's momentarily vulnerable groin. He screamed in agony and fell off her.

She leaped from the bed and ran across the room, the key clenched in her fist. Fingers jerky with desperation, Anne unlocked the door and began to pull it open. A hand tangled in her hair, then wrenched her backward. She lost her balance, stumbled, and fell.

Niall burst into the room. He paused to take in Anne and Hugh, then slammed the door shut and locked it. The key was deposited beneath his belt.

Hugh released Anne and backed away. Niall advanced, pulling Anne to her feet. He noted her tousled hair and the reddened imprint of Hugh's hand on her cheek.

"Has he harmed you in any other way?" Niall demanded softly, stroking the swollen side of her face.

"Nay," she whispered.

Niall turned to Hugh. Behind them, a shout of voices and pounding on the door began. Niall smiled grimly. "You'll die before they get to you," he snarled to his cousin. "I won't spare your life a second time."

"Or I, yours!" Hugh cried.

With panther quickness he sprang, grabbing for the dirk Niall held in his hand. The two men grappled wildly. Hugh's foot went out to entwine about Niall's lower leg. The movement was so swift, so unexpected, that it toppled Niall.

Both men fell heavily to the floor. Niall's head struck hard. For an instant he saw stars. It was enough opportunity for Hugh. He twisted the dirk in Niall's grasp until it was pointing toward Niall's chest. Then, with all his considerable strength, Hugh threw himself down upon Niall.

Anne screamed a warning, but it was too late. With all the power in his hard-muscled body, Niall twisted the dirk upward. Hugh fell, impaled on the blade.

For a stunned moment Niall lay there, then gently shoved his cousin off him. He sat up, cradling Hugh in his arms. Anne came to kneel beside him.

The dirk protruded from the middle of Hugh's chest. Even as they watched, the injured man turned ashen. Blood bubbled from his lips. Niall held him close, forgetting all past animosity, remembering only the boyhood friend. In the background, the pounding on the door worsened, as if it were now being battered by some kind of log.

"Why, Hugh?" Niall groaned. "Why did you do this?"

"W-why?" Hugh whispered, his eyes already beginning to glaze. "Because
I
should have been ch-chief, not you. "Twas my birthright. But no m-matter. You've won naught. The devil himself . . . is yet to be d-dealt wi" With a gurgle, Hugh's voice faded. His eyes rolled back in his head.

A large log shattered the door, splintering its way halfway through the wood. Anne glanced from it to Niall. He seemed oblivious to the danger.

"Niall!" She shook him by the shoulder. "Hugh's dead. Let him go. His men are almost upon us!"

He lifted tormented eyes. "Wh-what?" His gaze moved to the rapidly disintegrating door.

With a savage curse, Niall bolted to his feet, reaching for his claymore. He grabbed Anne, shoving her toward the nearest corner.

"I'll try to fight them out o' the room and down the stairs!" he shouted above the rising din. "Stay close behind me. If there's a chance for you to get out o' the tower then, run and don't look back. My men are on their way."

"I won't leave you!"

"You
will
!" he snapped back, moving into his warrior's stance, his two hands gripped about his sword. "I command it!"

Anne's lips tightened in a mutinous line, but she knew it wasn't the time to argue. What Niall needed from her now was help, not hindrance. With a sickening crash, the door gave way.

The outlaws spilled into the room. They formed a half circle before Niall, three men deep. Slowly, they moved forward. Niall was forced to back into the corner to keep any from slipping around behind him.

"Surrender while you can," he growled. "Even now, my men draw near."

"Surrender?" a large burly man at the forefront demanded. "To what? We've naught to lose but our lives. Ye took all else away when ye named us outlaws. And I, for one, want a taste o'yer blood before I die!"

He sprang at Niall with a fierce cry, the others surging forward behind him. Niall met them with the solid length of his claymore, cutting down the burly leader in a few quick strokes. The rest fell back to a more respectful distance from the longer span of Niall's sword.

Niall took advantage of their hesitation. He advanced. Slowly, doggedly, he battled his way across the room, forcing the pack of men out the door and down the stairs. Anne followed.

For a considerable time Niall fought with effortless strength. But the weight of his giant sword, as well as the cramped confines of the staircase which hampered its full effectiveness, eventually wore him down.

His movements slowed. His reactions became sluggish. More and more frequently, the outlaws were able to leave their mark upon him.

Niall began to bleed from several minor wounds. His mighty chest heaved with the strain of his exertions. The sweat rolled down his face and soaked the shirt to his broad, muscular back.

Hiding behind him, Anne sought desperately for some way to help. He could not go on much longer before someone caught him in a false move and delivered a disabling if not fatal blow. She needed a weapon.

Gingerly, Anne climbed over the next man Niall cut down, then bent to pry his fingers from around his sword. It was a short-sword, similar to the ones with which she'd been trained. Feeling more useful now, Anne followed Niall down the stairs.

Time lost its meaning as Niall hacked his way to the first floor. His arms felt like lead weights. Every blow he parried now vibrated excrutiatingly up his arms. He knew he couldn't fight much longer. Though eight men lay dead or dying behind him, seven more fought or waited to fight him still.

The tower's doorway loomed like some gateway to heaven, though he knew he dared not leave the confines of the tower. To do so would allow his attackers opportunity to come at him from all sides. If he could just hold them at the doorway. . . .

A movement at the door caught his eye. In an instant slowed in time, Niall saw a crossbow lifted to a shoulderand aimed directly at his heart. With a hoarse cry, Niall lunged aside, shoving Anne along with him. The quarrel flew by, missing him by a hairsbreadth.

The outlaw nearest Niall took advantage of his opponent's lowered guard. He sprang forward, his blade slashing into Niall's sword arm. Niall tried to recover, to raise his claymore to parry the second thrust, but his badly wounded arm was unequal to the task. His attacker's sword drove home, this time into Niall's thigh.

Niall sank to his knees, his weapon clattering to the floor. The man stepped forward. His sword lifted to deliver the killing blow.

"Cruachan!" Anne cried, and leaped in front of Niall. With all her strength, she thrust her sword toward the outlaw's midsection.

He halted, his arm frozen in its arcing descent. The man looked down stupidly at his belly. Then, with a choking cry, he fell.

From down the hill, an answering Campbell battle cry was heard. The remaining men hesitated, then turned, and fled. The pounding of hoofbeats grew louder. Shouts, mingled with screams, filled the air.

Anne ran to the doorway. A familiar face rode by. She sagged in relief. It was over.

Turning, she went back to where Niall lay, bleeding on the floor.

It took several hours before Niall was strong enough to travel after the cauterization of his deep arm and thigh wounds. He still insisted, however, on riding back to Kilchurn on his own horse, Anne clasped securely before him.

'Why did you leave?'' he whispered into the fragrant tumble of her hair after a time of silent riding down the road. "Do you know what it did to me, to have you desert me in my greatest hour o' need?"

Anne glanced back at him, her cheek grazing his lips. "I left to save you from further danger, danger that was mounting against you because o' me. I couldn't stand by and watch you fall, knowing I was the cause."

She choked back a little sob. "And, even after the events of this night, how has anything changed? Now Hugh's death will be added to your wrongs, for once again I was the cause."

"Nay," Niall replied gruffly. "Hugh was but a pawn manipulated, I'd wager, by the traitor. You heard him say I still had the devil himself to deal with. The traitor must have been using Hugh to further his foul means, just as he did Nelly. But no more. We took several o' the outlaws prisoner. I'll get the truth out o' them now."

He chuckled grimly. "And I have Iain just where I want him as well. I threw him in the dungeon when I discovered he was involved in helping you leave."

"But 'twasn't Iain's fault," Anne protested. "I went to him, begged him to help me. He never had any intent o' abducting"

"Who else but Iain knew o' your leaving Kilchurn? And who else wanted you for himself?"

"Nay, you are wrong," she countered stubbornly. "Think about it, Niall. If 'twas truly Iain's plot to steal me away for himself, he'd have never involved Hugh. Iain well knew Hugh's hatred for me. Yet he stayed behind at Kilchurn. Nay, Iain wouldn't have taken me this way."

"Your words have merit," Niall admitted. "But if so, who
was
behind the scenes, playing Hugh in such a black-hearted way? The traitor"

"You are wrong, Niall Campbell, if you still think it to be Iain!"

A wry grin twisted Niall's firm lips. "Ever the loyal friend, eh, Annie? Well, we'll find out soon enough now. Until then, I must consider all possibilities. Even Iain."

"And I say I am no fool! I can look into a man's heart and see what's truly there. How else would I have put up with a pigheaded dolt like you for so long?"

Niall's big chest rumbled with a chuckle. "A pig-headed dolt, am I? So, we are back to that again? Fine gratitude, indeed, for saving your life."

Anne smiled and slipped her arm about Niall's waist. "Aye, m'lord. 'Tis why I love you, I suppose."

"And I, you, lass." His expression grew solemn. "When this is over and settled, I want to take you as wife. Will you have me as husband?"

Silver eyes, luminous in the moonlight, stared up at him. "You wish to wed me?"

"Aye."

She laid her head back upon his chest, snuggling against him. "I would like that, very much indeed." Anne gave a small, pensive sigh. "If only the traitor would let that be . . ."

The darkness hid the tense, anxious look that passed across Niall's rugged features. "Aye, my love. That fight, I fear, is yet to be won."

"So, he persists in flaunting the MacGregor wench before us," Duncan growled. "The Campbell has sealed his fate with this last o' his foolish efforts."

"Aye, that he has," Malcolm snarled beside him. "And this time he won't win."

Iain glanced at the two men, then back down from the castle parapets to the party of riders drawing up before the closed gates. It was dawn, the first faint rays of light just filtering over the distant horizon.

He'd been free of the dungeon, thanks to his father, from the moment a force of Niall's men had ridden out to reinforce their leader in his rescue of Anne. And, in those hours since, the Campbell tanist and his half brother had worked to convince him that. Niall Campbell was no longer fit to rule the clan.

It had been a relatively simple task. Iain's anger and disgust at Niall's judgements of late, most particularly when they dealt with Anne, had finally come to a head when his cousin had confronted him in his bedchamber. He didn't understand the man anymore, much less respect him. And Iain could never follow someone he didn't respect.

"He isn't fit to lead our clan," his father had said. "Surely you can see it now. His power has gone to his head. He's crazed with it. Why else would he turn first against Hugh, then you, accusing you both o' treason? 'Tis a surprise he even named me tanist, as close in the family as I am to him. I can only surmise he chose me because I am old and no threat to him as your and Hugh's youth are."

"Hugh is mad, Father," Iain had replied. I can well understand why Niall banished him. He tried to kill Anne."

"Aye, but not why he turned against you. Niall's mad, I tell you. As mad as Hugh, in his own way. For the clan's sake, if naught else, we must unseat him before he drags us all down to destruction!"