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Authors: Kathleen Morgan
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your tanist will have much time for humoring the likes o' me, though."
Her gaze turned to rest again on Niall, riding ahead, deeply immersed in conversation with Hugh and the sandy-haired man. "He seems to find Campbell concerns' o' far greater import. I wonder what clan he's planning to raid now that MacGregors can no longer be his enemies?"
Iain's mouth quirked at the bitterness in Anne's voice. "Och, lassie, don't be so hard on him. With his father ailing, Niall's had a heavy burden o' responsibility laid on him these past few years. Give him a chance. He's not a cruel man, just a wee bit harder since his wife's death."
"Aye," she muttered, I know how deeply he mourns his wife. Too bad he didn't mourn her enough to prevent our handfasting."
"Well, I'll not speak about something I know little about." He turned toward her. "Would you like to learn a bit about our clan, before we reach Kilchurn Castle? Mayhap 'twould ease your way."
Anne nodded. It was hard to stay glum with a man as handsome and charming as Iain Campbell at her side. "Aye, that would be nice."
She pointed to the older man riding on Niall's right. "And who might he be? Surely someone o' power, for he spoke for your clan in demanding Sir Niall's return."
A bitter smile touched Iain's lips. "Och, a man o' power, and no mistake. He's Duncan, laird o' Balloch Castle on Loch Tay and the Campbell's younger brother. He's also my father."
She shot him a sideways glance. He doesn't get on with his father, Anne thought, noting the tight expression on Iain's face. She quickly stifled the impulse to ask him more. It wasn't her concern. She had problems enough without seeking more.
"And Hugh, the witch-hater." Anne gestured to the brown-haired man riding on Niall's other side. "Where exactly does he hang on the Campbell family tree?"
"Mad cousin Hugh? His mother is Lydia Campbell, sister to the Campbell and my father."
"Is he really mad?" Anne asked, recalling the crazed look in Hugh's eyes the day of the raid.
"In some ways, aye. And yet, there are times when I wonder if there's not a method to his madness . . ." Iain paused. "At any rate, when he commits himself to a cause, he can be quite fanatical, going on for hours, even days, on the same subject. He bears a heavy grudge that his mother was born female, for it puts him fourth, after Niall, my father, and myself, in line for the chieftainship. As you can imagine, 'tis one o' his favorite topics. We tend to ignore him when he starts up about it."
"Poor man," Anne murmured pityingly.
"Niall told me Hugh tried to kill you." Iain shook his head in wonder. "Yet you can still say that, after what he almost did to you? Och, you're a rare one."
She glanced at him. "I'm a healer, Iain. My heart goes out to those in distress, whether o' the body or mind."
"Well, don't concern yourself with Hugh. He'd not appreciate your efforts. On the contrary, 'twould be very dangerous for you. He hates witches above all else."
"And why is that?"
Iain shook his head. "I don't know, lass. It makes about as much sense as most things Hugh takes a disliking to. But for your own sake, stay clear o' him."
"Aye," Anne muttered uneasily.
Movement up ahead distracted them into silence. They watched as Niall, with a wave of his hand, sent a rider galloping off down the road. Stretching tall in his stirrups, Niall stared after the man until he disappeared from view. Then, with a dark frown, he settled back onto his horse.
A plan. He must have a plan for discovering the traitor. Niall glanced behind at the ruddy, good-hearted faces of his warriors. To question the motives of even one of them sickened him. But he must, for more was at stake than his personal safety.
His clan was also in grave danger. If the traitor had truly stirred the feud all these years, ambition was evidently a higher priority than Campbell welfare. And he as tanist seemed to be all that stood in the way of that ambition.
But who would want him dead? There
Her gaze turned to rest again on Niall, riding ahead, deeply immersed in conversation with Hugh and the sandy-haired man. "He seems to find Campbell concerns' o' far greater import. I wonder what clan he's planning to raid now that MacGregors can no longer be his enemies?"
Iain's mouth quirked at the bitterness in Anne's voice. "Och, lassie, don't be so hard on him. With his father ailing, Niall's had a heavy burden o' responsibility laid on him these past few years. Give him a chance. He's not a cruel man, just a wee bit harder since his wife's death."
"Aye," she muttered, I know how deeply he mourns his wife. Too bad he didn't mourn her enough to prevent our handfasting."
"Well, I'll not speak about something I know little about." He turned toward her. "Would you like to learn a bit about our clan, before we reach Kilchurn Castle? Mayhap 'twould ease your way."
Anne nodded. It was hard to stay glum with a man as handsome and charming as Iain Campbell at her side. "Aye, that would be nice."
She pointed to the older man riding on Niall's right. "And who might he be? Surely someone o' power, for he spoke for your clan in demanding Sir Niall's return."
A bitter smile touched Iain's lips. "Och, a man o' power, and no mistake. He's Duncan, laird o' Balloch Castle on Loch Tay and the Campbell's younger brother. He's also my father."
She shot him a sideways glance. He doesn't get on with his father, Anne thought, noting the tight expression on Iain's face. She quickly stifled the impulse to ask him more. It wasn't her concern. She had problems enough without seeking more.
"And Hugh, the witch-hater." Anne gestured to the brown-haired man riding on Niall's other side. "Where exactly does he hang on the Campbell family tree?"
"Mad cousin Hugh? His mother is Lydia Campbell, sister to the Campbell and my father."
"Is he really mad?" Anne asked, recalling the crazed look in Hugh's eyes the day of the raid.
"In some ways, aye. And yet, there are times when I wonder if there's not a method to his madness . . ." Iain paused. "At any rate, when he commits himself to a cause, he can be quite fanatical, going on for hours, even days, on the same subject. He bears a heavy grudge that his mother was born female, for it puts him fourth, after Niall, my father, and myself, in line for the chieftainship. As you can imagine, 'tis one o' his favorite topics. We tend to ignore him when he starts up about it."
"Poor man," Anne murmured pityingly.
"Niall told me Hugh tried to kill you." Iain shook his head in wonder. "Yet you can still say that, after what he almost did to you? Och, you're a rare one."
She glanced at him. "I'm a healer, Iain. My heart goes out to those in distress, whether o' the body or mind."
"Well, don't concern yourself with Hugh. He'd not appreciate your efforts. On the contrary, 'twould be very dangerous for you. He hates witches above all else."
"And why is that?"
Iain shook his head. "I don't know, lass. It makes about as much sense as most things Hugh takes a disliking to. But for your own sake, stay clear o' him."
"Aye," Anne muttered uneasily.
Movement up ahead distracted them into silence. They watched as Niall, with a wave of his hand, sent a rider galloping off down the road. Stretching tall in his stirrups, Niall stared after the man until he disappeared from view. Then, with a dark frown, he settled back onto his horse.
A plan. He must have a plan for discovering the traitor. Niall glanced behind at the ruddy, good-hearted faces of his warriors. To question the motives of even one of them sickened him. But he must, for more was at stake than his personal safety.
His clan was also in grave danger. If the traitor had truly stirred the feud all these years, ambition was evidently a higher priority than Campbell welfare. And he as tanist seemed to be all that stood in the way of that ambition.
But who would want him dead? There
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