“I fell in love with the Highlands when Ian brought me here.” Jillian smiled. “Besides, can you see my husband acting the part of an English gentleman?”
No, Annie clearly could not grasp that image. Ian MacLeod looked more like he belonged on a horse, leading a wild charge down a hill, waving a sword and sounding a battle cry. She smiled too. “So ye have an overseer tending the land?”
“Ian’s brother Jamie, who does not care much more for English life than Ian does.” Jillian’s smile broadened. “But he is more or less stuck since my sister Mari is his wife and she prefers England.”
“He must love her verra much to make such a sacrifice.”
Jillian nodded. “They are crazy about each other, although you might not know it, given that they argue at the drop of a hat.”
Annie felt a little nudge of guilt. She and Niall did much the same. Not thatarguingsignifiedcaring.
“Neither of them likes admitting they are wrong either,” Jillian added.
That sounded like her and Niall too. While stubbornness probably wasn’t a great trait, it was still nice to know other women didn’t back down either. And—even better—given the right circumstances, a woman couldownland. In herownright.
Hopefully, Jillian would be willing to explain how that had come about, at some time. It was information Annie could use when it was safe to return to Glasgow.
Meanwhile, the priority right now was to get Niall well.
****
Niall opened his eyes slowly, letting his sight get accustomed to the dim light of the room. He became aware that he was lying in a very soft bed of feathers, covered in a crisp sheet that smelled of fresh air and sunshine. Niall felt no pain. The last thing he remembered was the anguish of something akin to a red-hot knife searing through his leg. Was he dead? He faintly recalled a female voice singing softly to him and looked up, half-expecting to see a ceiling fresco of angels. Instead, he saw high timber beams and walls of stone. An earthly room, then.
A warm fire blazed in the hearth across from the bed. Dark blue velvet drapes were closed against a window that was probably also shuttered to keep the cool air out. A small table and chair stood near the window. On the opposite wall, a tapestry depicting a hunting scene hung over a solidly built dresser. Earthly things. No sign of an angel who had sung to him.
A creak in the far corner caught his attention. He turned as a middle-aged lady rose from a rocking chair. Had she sung to him, willing him to live? She didn’t look like an angel, but then, what did he know about angels? He only knew that melodic voice had kept him clinging to life.
“Ye are finally awake!” The woman came closer. “’Tis glad Ian and Jillian will be to hear of it.”
Ian. Reality returned to Niall with a jolt. He had been taking Annie Ferguson to safety at Arisaig, but his stab wound had forced him to change his plans. “I am at the MacLeod holding, then?”
“Aye. I am Mrs. Cameron, the housekeeper. Ye arrived two days ago.”
“Two days! I have been unconscious for two days?” Niall struggled to sit. “Did a young lady come with me? She has red hair—”
“Rest easy, lad,” Mrs. Cameron said as she provided a strong hand to help position him against the headboard. “If ’tis Annie ye are asking about, she is here, safe and sound.”
Niall breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I was escorting her—”
“Nae need to explain. Save your strength.” The housekeeper straightened. “I’ll go down to get ye some broth.”
“I appreciate that, but can ye bring something I can set my teeth into?” Niall asked. “I feel as though I haven’t eaten in weeks.”
“Broth is what ye need,” Mrs. Cameron said in a tone that brooked no argument. “’Tis the best thing to start with. Ye doona want your stomach rebelling, since it’s been without food.”
Niall gave her a smile that he used to use on his mother to wheedle another fruit scone when he was a child. “But I am hungry.”
“A good sign.” Mrs Cameron paused and then relented. “All right. I’ll put a wee piece of bread on the tray as well.” She moved to the door. “Would ye like me to send Annie up? Jillian insisted she have a bit of rest since she’s hardly left this room, but ’twas an hour ago.”
“Doona disturb her, then,” Niall said. “But if nae too much trouble, I would like some hot water to clean up with.”
The housekeeper nodded. “I’ll have some lads fetch it straightaway.”
After she left, Niall pushed back the cover and swung his legs over the bed. The injured thigh had a clean bandage wrapped around it and the swelling had gone down. Whoever the healer was, she had done a good job. He stood slowly, hating that he felt wobbly as a newborn foal. A slight wave of dizziness washed over him, but that was probably from hunger. He forced himself to move, willing his strength to return with each step. By the time Mrs. Cameron reappeared with the food, he had made it to the table and chair.
“Do ye think ye should be sitting up so soon?” she asked as she put the tray down.
“Aye. Lyin’ abed does nae help,” Niall answered.
