As the night drew on, however, something began to trouble her. The camp had livened with his return--the men were clearly relieved that he'd evaded capture--but there wasn't the celebration that she'd expected. She frowned. And there was something strange going on. Other than her brother, no one else had gone near him. Instead of the backslaps, crude jests, and toasts that would usually be called for, she noticed more than one of the men casting him uneasy glances.
Arthur didn't seem to notice. He finished his food, finished the skin of ale that had been brought him, and retreated to the solitude of the forest.
She watched him go, feeling the overwhelming urge to do something. She looked around at her clansmen. What was wrong with them? Why were they acting like this?
When she couldn't stand it any longer, she excused herself and went to find her brother. He was speaking with some of his men, but seeing her approach, he dismissed them.
"I thought you'd be relieved," Alan said.
She didn't pretend to misunderstand what he was talking about. "I am."
"Then why the frown, little one?"
"Why are the men acting like this? Why don't they thank him? Why are they avoiding him?"
A wry smile turned his mouth. "Are you sure it's not the other way around, sister? Campbell isn't exactly known for his sociability. He likes to keep to himself."
He was right, but there was something more this time. The men were uneasy--almost fearful. When she said as much to her brother, he sighed and shook his head. "Something happened today when the men were scouting. Richard told me about it and probably some of the other men as well. Apparently, Campbell heard the riders well before there was any sign of them. Richard said it was unnatural."
Any delight she might have felt in having her own suspicions confirmed after what had happened with the wolves paled in comparison to the fury that stormed through her.
Outrage flooded her cheeks with heat. "That's ridiculous. Don't they realize that he saved us all? They should be grateful, not casting wild aspersions."
"I agree, but you know how superstitious Highlanders can be."
"That doesn't excuse it."
"Nay, it doesn't. I'll speak with Richard and try to put an end to it."
Anna drew herself up to her full hand over five feet. "See that you do or I will speak to him myself. I won't see Sir Arthur shunned for helping us. God's wounds, Alan! Without that 'unnatural' ability we might all be dead."
Alan gave her a long look, and what he saw there seemed to worry him. He frowned, and rather than admonish her coarse language, he simply nodded his head.
She started to walk away, intent on finding Arthur. Her brother must have guessed her destination.
He called out. "We'll arrive at Auldearn tomorrow evening, Anna."
She turned and gave him a quizzical look, puzzled by the non sequitur. "Aye."
"If you mean to go through with the betrothal, perhaps it would be best if you left him alone."
She hesitated, hearing the truth in her brother's words. But she couldn't. The men's actions had raised every protective instinct in her body. She had to thank him, even if they would not.
She found him by the loch, seated on a low boulder. He'd bathed. His hair was damp and he wore a simple linen shirt and tunic with his leather chausses. He was bent over, oiling his mail with a cloth, and his expression in profile seemed unusually somber.
She knew he'd heard her, but he didn't turn around. As she moved closer, she could see what he was cleaning.
Her stomach dropped to her feet.Blood.
Without thinking, she rushed forward, kneeled beside him, and put her hand on his arm. "You're hurt."
His gaze lifted to hers, catching in the moonlight. "It's not mine," he said.
Relief crashed through her. She exhaled deeply. Though his expression betrayed nothing, she heard a strange emotion in his voice. He almost sounded as if he regretted it. That the death of one of their enemies might have bothered him.
Perhaps it wasn't as easy for warriors to kill as she'd assumed. At least it wasn't for him. The realization made him seem somehow more human. More vulnerable.
Sir Arthur Campbell vulnerable? The thought would have made her laugh a few weeks ago.
