Highlander Unbroken (Highland Adventure Book 8) (7 page)

Heat consumed Anna's face yet again.

***

Constance glared after Anna, wishing the huge iron candelabrum had struck the trollop on top of the head and killed her. Just as Neacal had killed Farquar. She still could not believe he was gone. Her eyes burned just as rage burned within her. She would have her revenge against Neacal before he married her off to some old bastard, but she had to hurry.

'Twas obvious how much Neacal liked Anna. He always watched her. No doubt they secretly spent nights together in his chamber. If she could dispatch Anna, then Neacal would know how she felt when he'd killed Farquar.

Had Neacal spoken the truth? Had Farquar tried to have his way with Anna Douglas? Why would he? Constance knew she was far lovelier than that dowdy little bird. Everyone told Constance she was a great beauty.

With unease, she remembered finding Farquar talking to Anna in the bailey one day. But just because he'd talked to her didn't mean he wanted under her skirts.

Who was Anna Douglas, anyway? Where was she from? She had to find out something about the jezebel. She glanced around and her gaze landed on the piper. He'd been playing when the fight broke out but now stood, holding his pipes, by one of the tables. He was not bad looking, though tall and scrawny. Mayhap she could find out something from him.

She sauntered toward him, pasting a sweet smile upon her face. "I was enjoying your playing. 'Twas too bad the fight interrupted it."

"I thank you, m'lady." He bowed.

Constance felt her smile widen; it wasn't often people mistakenly called her 'lady.' But she always enjoyed it when they did. "I do hope Mistress Douglas is all right."

"I'm certain she will be."

"What is your name?"

"Vardon Clemmens, m'lady."

"Where are you from?" Constance kept up the idle chit chat, pretending great interest, sending the daft man flirtatious grins and fluttering her lashes.

He blushed more than she ever had, even as a green virgin. She was happy to see he would be easy pickings. In a day or two, he would spill everything he knew about Anna Douglas.

***

The next day, the clan elders summoned Neacal to a meeting in the library. What the devil were they concerned about this time? He had more important things to do than counter their complaints. Training the soldiers and finding more was his first priority… except when he was thinking about Anna. He was glad to get a report from Tavia that Anna's burn was healing well, but he'd had no opportunity to talk to her this day.

Neacal strode into the library and took a seat at the head of the table where all the elders sat.

He scanned the expressions of the white-haired men, some dire and others forcing smiles.

"Why did you call this meeting?" he asked them.

"We need to discuss a few things," Sir Hugh said.

"Very well," Neacal said. "Which things? Farquar's death?"

Hugh waved a hand. "We believe you on that score. Several of the men said he was a menace and disloyal to you. I say you handled the situation well, all things considered."

"I thank you for that." Neacal relaxed marginally at the small victory. But if this wasn't about Farquar, what did they wish to discuss?

"Things are going very well, chief," Uncle Bhatar said in that placating way which only irritated Neacal more.

"I'm glad you think so, but that can't be what this is about."

Hugh inhaled a deep breath and let it out dramatically, as if he dreaded what he was going to say. "'Tis time we started searching out a bride for you."

A sudden spark of anger burst through Neacal. "A bride?" He demanded. "I've been chief for less than a month!" Were they all mad?

"'Tis never too early."

Bhatar leaned forward. "
Is e fortan no mìfhortan fir bean.
"
A man's wife is his fortune or misfortune.

Hugh nodded. "So we must find one who will bring fortune to us all. She must be the right
lady
for the clan."

Neacal ground his teeth. Why had Hugh placed emphasis on
lady
? Had it something to do with Anna? That they thought he would want to marry her, a commoner with no connection to a powerful clan?

God's teeth! Neacal wanted to throw something.

Regardless of whether Anna had caught his attention or not, the last bloody thing he wanted to think about right now was looking for a bride. He already had enough to keep him busy. He had always enjoyed women, of course, like any man. But a bride was something entirely different. As they said, she must be the right lady for the clan, not the right lady for
him.
No one would care what he thought of her. 'Twas more like a political office rather than a love affair. She must be highborn and proper, from an important clan.

Any such lady would see him as mad and barbaric. Considering his scars, she would think she was being sacrificed to a beast.

Forcing himself to speak with infinite patience, he said, "I'm going to wait a while longer before I start the search." He arose from his chair. "If that is all."

"Not quite," Hugh piped up.

Fists clasped to the chair back, he forced himself to stand in place and not lash out at the elder.

"As you well know, a bride can bring an ally and many strong soldiers to our clan. This we need above all else."

Damnation. Neacal hated to admit they were right. Regardless, 'twas too soon. He'd much rather ask his foster brother for assistance than to marry a lass who might make him miserable. He could also call on the MacKenzies for help, if worse came to worst. They were strong allies.

"You ken we make a good point," Hugh persisted.

Annoyance flamed over Neacal. "I will consider a bride when the time is right," he growled. "And now is not the right time. End of discussion." He strode from the room and slammed the door. If they wanted to replace him as chief, so be it. He would not be ordered around by them. To even imagine dealing with a wife right now set his teeth on edge.

***

That night, Anna climbed the dimly lit stairs after Tavia had applied another poultice and a new dressing to the burn on her ankle. It was healing well but still pained her.

She had not had the opportunity to speak with Neacal all day. When she had seen him, he'd looked especially vexed. He had spent most of the day training in the bailey with his men.

The evening's entertainment was over and everyone was retiring for the night. She heard a few distant voices as she passed the great hall, but then someone close-by murmured, "The daft bastard would not allow Sleat entrance. And then he killed the guard."

Anna froze in the darkened corner. They had to be discussing Neacal.

"He's nay daft; he's mad," another man said.

"Aye, 'tis true."

Wanting to take them to task immediately, Anna clenched her jaw.

"He's no fit chief for this clan," the man continued. "If he cannot be the ally of another MacDonald, he won't have any allies. We'll be attacked and killed and some other clan will take over these lands and this castle."

"What'll we do to make sure the clan is nay destroyed?"

"I'm going to help Sleat in any way I can. He'd make a far better chief for us."

Saints, what traitors, Anna thought. She could not believe how many in the clan were disloyal to Neacal. Not only Farquar, but also these two.

"Are you thinking Sleat will return?" one of the men asked.

"Before the MacKenzies kicked him out, 'twas what he said—that he would be back with a larger garrison. He figured the elders would put Neacal in as chief, but he knows as well as I that Neacal is not cut out to be chief. I'm going to talk to some other clansmen and find out who shares our view."

"As will I."

"We'll talk again in the morn."

Anna slipped forward and peered around the corner, through the wide opening into the great hall. The two men parted ways and, in the dim candlelight, she recognized them. She knew not their names, but she had seen each of them before.

She had to tell Neacal of his traitorous clansmen. She did not wish to wait until the morn, for these men could do a lot of damage in that short span of time. One of the maids had shown her around the castle days ago. She knew where the laird's chamber was.

As silently as possible, she crept up the steps, a lone sconce in the stone stairwell lighting her way. At the oaken door, she knocked lightly.

No response.

Blast! He must be sleeping.

She hated to wake him, but the matter of clan traitors was of vital importance. He'd likely be angry with her if she didn't wake him. This time, she knocked harder, but still heard naught from inside. Where was he?

Footsteps approached along the corridor. Was it him? She hid in the darkness of the nearby alcove to make sure. She didn't wish anyone else to know what she was about. As the footsteps drew near, she peeped out from her hiding place. A tall silhouette waited before the door and it seemed he stared straight at her.

'Twas him. She forced herself to breathe. "M'laird?" she mumbled.

"Anna?" His voice held surprise. "What is it?"

She emerged from her hiding place and moved toward him. "I was looking for you."

"Are you well? How is the burn?"

"I'm feeling better. I thank you." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "I must speak to you in private."

"Very well." He hesitated, his gaze searching hers. "Do you want to talk here or… in my chamber?"

Craning her neck, she glanced behind him, fearful some traitorous servant might be lurking there in the darkness.

"I gave my guard the night off," he whispered, following her gaze, then eyed her again. "We can go inside, if you dare to trust me that much."

"Aye, I think that might be best. And, of course, I trust you." How could she not after he'd rescued her from a rapist?

He opened the door and held it while she entered. A low fire burned in the hearth, lighting the room to a dim glow.

He closed the door and stood stiffly by, watching her.

"I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I heard something which concerned me a great deal."

"Aye? What is it? Have a seat." He motioned to a wooden chair by the hearth and she sat.

"I was passing by the great hall when I heard two of your clansmen talking." She spoke in a hushed tone, lest someone in the corridor overhear.

He took the seat across from her, watching her with great interest. "And?"

"They hated that you didn't allow Sleat entrance. They said they would help Sleat in any way possible."

"Help him do what?"

"Take over as chief."

Neacal frowned, a spark of rage entering his flame-blue eyes. "Who was it?"

"I know not their names."

"Can you point them out to me?"

"Aye, of course."

His troubled gaze searched hers. "What else did they say?"

"One said he thought Sleat would return with a larger force."

"Bastards," Neacal growled, then darted a quick glance to her. "Pray pardon."

"I understand how you must feel—betrayed by some of your clansmen."

He nodded and stared into the fire for a moment, then turned his gaze back to her. "Did they say anything else?"

"They're going to try to find out who in the clan might be on their side."

"Traitors," he muttered, then stood and paced.

"What will you do to them?" she asked.

Pausing, Neacal stared at the beautiful woman sitting before the fire. With her last words to him, he had a flash of insight—Anna was no peasant, nor even a merchant. He should have realized this before. She had a cultured way of speaking and was not the least bit subservient. She boldly asked him whatever she wished to know. Was she a lady? The daughter of a chief or laird?

"I will toss them in the dungeon and find out who they've managed to turn against me," Neacal said. "Were you afraid I would hang them on sight?"

"Nay, of course not." She gave a wee sheepish grin. "I simply didn't want you to go on my word alone. I know you'll need more proof or witnesses."

He nodded. "I'll have one of my most trusted men spy on them. Mayhap pretend to be on their side so he can find out more."

Her expression lightened. "'Twould be brilliant."

Saints, how lovely she was. He wished to know every detail about her, every secret which hid behind her enchanting green eyes.

"Is your true name Anna Douglas?" he asked.

Her gaze sharpened on him. "Aye. Do you think I'm lying?"

"Nay. I but wondered if you're a chief's daughter. You seem well-spoken and highly educated," he rushed to say. 'Twas the truth, but also he didn't wish to anger her.