Niall suspected that was an exercise in futility. Gossip would always follow her. That was one of the reasons he hoped she would see the value in what he intended to propose to her. “It’s probably my fault. I didn’t realize the attention our practice was gathering.”
Both men sat in silence. Their shared pain for the woman they both loved was palpable.
“I would spare her all this if I could,” Niall said.
“But you can’t,” Patrick said glumly. “And neither can I.”
It was a horrible acknowledgment for them both. Helplessness was not a state familiar to a Highland warrior.
“Go,” Patrick said after a minute. “See to your wounds. Your face looks like hell, and from the way you are holding your side, I’m guessing you have a few broken ribs that should be tended to. The healer has a storeroom next to the ale house where she has set up a small infirmary and apothecary. You should find her there.”
Which made sense as Niall knew the healer was also the castle’s alewife. Not all castles had buildings for brewing beer, but Niall knew that Patrick sold it to other local lairds as an extra source of income.
Niall nodded. “I should warn you that there might be other problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“Some of the Campbell soldiers seem to know who I am.”
Patrick’s curse echoed Niall’s thoughts. “I’ll talk to Donnan to keep them quiet. But you look so much like your sister it was bound to come out.”
“I don’t want to bring you trouble.”
Patrick gave a sharp scoff. “Then you shouldn’t have come here. But if you can make my sister happy, I might not kill you for it.”
As Niall suspected that was the best deal he was likely to get, he left.
Could he make Annie happy? He would do everything in his power to try.
* * *
Annie had been climbing the walls since her brother had sent the women from the great hall after the fighting broke out. Fighting in which Niall was at the center! She’d caught one quick glimpse of him before he’d disappeared into the mob of Campbells and Alys’s husband had steered the ladies from the room.
Lizzie, Alys, and Annie had waited in the keep for Patrick to return. Although he’d assured them everything was all right and that it was a misunderstanding, Annie’s heart dropped when she asked about Niall and learned he was “fine” and had been sent to the healer.
Clearly, she and her brother had very different definitions of fine! She raced across thebarmkinand burst into the storeroom right as Niall was lifting off his shirt.
Both the healer and Niall turned to her as she entered.
The shock of awareness akin to running into a stone wall at the sight of his chest turned to a cry of horror when she saw his face.
Their eyes met. “I’m fine. It looks worse than it is.”
Annie doubted that—and apparently, he shared her brother’s same flawed ideal of “fine.” Blood, cuts, and bruises were most certainlynotfine!
She looked to the healer, whose cackle of amusement seemed to fit her appearance. Not all healers were old women who conjured thoughts of black cauldrons and witchcraft, although this one was. But her clear blue eyes were kind. “Aye, don’t you worry, lassie. Your braw lad will be bonny again soon enough.”
Annie didn’t protest her erroneous take on the situation but stood by the door while the woman continued her ministrations. While the healer examined Niall’s ribs and back, Annie did the same.
Good gracious! She swallowed—hard. She’d seen Niall without his shirt a number of times when he was younger. He and Iain used to love to race each other across Loch Katrine, and Annie used to serve as judge on the winner when it was close, as it inevitably was.
But the broad span of heavily muscled chest and arms that was before her now looked nothing like the one she remembered. He’d added at least a few stone worth of granite-hard, expertly sculpted muscle. She’d never realized that muscles could be that sharply defined. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of extra flesh anywhere that she could see.
She moved a few steps to the right to get a better look at his stomach just to be sure. But good Lord, that was even more defined! The laundress could beat the clothes against all the ridges and lines of muscle working their way up his stomach.
Something strange started to happen. Annie’s heart started to beat a little faster—and heavier—but her breathing slowed. She felt flushed and hot—as if she’d just walked into the bakehouse instead of the infirmary.
But the moment she realized she was experiencing awareness again, it fled when he flinched as the healer inspected his ribs and Annie saw the mottled red bruise on his other side.
