Chapter 10

Graeme stepped silently into the bedchamber he now shared with Annella, and then quietly closed the door. Despite his best

efforts, there was still a soft click as it closed. Wincing, he glanced quickly to the bed where his wife slept. Fortunately,

while she stirred and turned on her side in her sleep, she didn't wake up.

Relieved, Graeme relaxed and silently crossed the room, removing his belt and sheathed sword as he went. He managed to set

them on the chest at the foot of the bed without causing a clatter, then straightened, his gaze moving over his sleeping wife.

Even in the dim, dancing light cast by the fire, she was beautiful. But it was a different beauty than when she was awake.

During the day, Annella was a beautiful Valkyrie, proud, strong and commanding. In sleep her beauty was softer, almost innocent.

The difference fascinated him and he wondered which better represented her true nature. Perhaps both did, he thought now.

His wife was a study in contrasts, and so far, he liked every facet she'd revealed to him.

Annella stirred sleepily and rolled onto her back, the fur shifting downward as she went so that more than her personality was revealed to him. The woman might be wearing a sleeping gown, but it—like every other scrap of clothing she owned—was worn and frayed. The difference was the sleeping gown, thin to begin with, had become damned near see-through after years of wear. He could see her nipples clearly through the nearly transparent cloth, and the sight made Graeme freeze. He then closed his eyes and barely restrained the groan that wanted to leave him.

He'd stayed up late talking to the men about the attempt to poison him and Annella that evening at sup. They'd tried to puzzle

out who could be behind it while Annella had still been there, but had failed miserably. She had suggested that perhaps his

mother was angry about his removing her from the castle. However, Graeme had found it hard to believe that was likely, as

had the other men. In the end, even Annella had admitted that murdering them seemed a strong response to the action.

Unfortunately, not one of them had been able to come up with an alternate possibility by the end of the meal. Annella had

given up then and retired, but Graeme had remained at the table to talk to the men. Not about who might be behind the attempt

to poison them, but what should be done about it.

They had all quickly agreed that two trusted soldiers should be set to guard the buttery at all times. It would be taken in three shifts so that all beverages were guarded day and night. These guards would oversee the servant presently in charge of the buttery and the distribution of the beverages stored within. They would make sure that nothing was done to the drinks, and that Graeme and Annella's beverages were always served from fresh barrels or butts. The servant would then test each drink himself, tasting it to be sure it was not poisoned, before personally delivering it to Annella and Graeme. He and the drinks would be escorted to the table by one of the two soldiers on duty to ensure that nothing was done to the drinks before they reached Graeme and Annella. All of them had agreed that this was the best way to ensure that another attempt to poison them could not take place.

When Dauid had then suggested that a similar system should be made for the food they ate as well, Graeme had agreed. He'd

also been rather annoyed that he hadn't thought of it himself.

After assigning Angus the chore of picking the soldiers he considered the most reliable for the task, Graeme had announced

that he wanted to set some men to guard his wife as well until the matter of who had poisoned them was resolved. No one had

argued this plan of action. The problem had come because Teague, Symon, Payton and even Angus all seemed to think that he

should have a guard as well. Graeme hadn't thought it necessary and they'd argued the point for quite a while.

It was Payton who had pointed out that Teague and Symon were usually with him anyway. They should just be sure to always be

with him while he was up and about, then Annella's guards could stand watch outside their chamber at night.

"Unless Teague and Symon plan on leaving Gunn soon?" Payton had added, glancing to the two men in question.

Graeme had been startled and even a little alarmed at the suggestion. He'd met the pair on the first job he'd taken as a mercenary

on leaving Gunn. The job was to stand with the MacIntoshes against the neighboring clan, the Robertsons, whom they'd been

battling with over land, or perhaps the hand of one clan's daughter. Graeme couldn't remember now. At any rate, he'd encountered

Teague on the journey there, and once they realized they were both heading to the same place and for the same reason, they'd

joined up for the tail end of their travels.

They'd reached MacIntosh just ere darkness fell and after talking to the MacIntosh laird's man, had set up camp together on

the edge of where the other mercenaries were already settled. They'd worked together, building a fire and making oatcakes

to eat and then had rolled up in their plaids to sleep on either side of the fire. The next morning they'd woken up to find

a third man asleep at the far end of their dead fire. That had been Symon. He'd arrived a couple of hours after dark and the

MacIntosh laird's man had apparently directed him to bed down with Graeme and Teague, who had been the last to arrive before

him.

Thus had begun a friendship that had only strengthened and grown with the passage of time. The three had continued to camp

together, keeping an eye out for their comrades' possessions along with their own, guarded each other's backs in battle and

traveled together to each new job, their number making them safer than a man traveling alone would have been.

When Dauid had arrived at their last job at MacKinnon and babbled his tale of a missing William and the search for him before falling into exhausted sleep, Graeme had talked over the situation with Teague and Symon. They'd previously planned to travel south to the Fergusons, who were looking for warriors to join them against the Douglases. But both of his friends had said family was more important than coin, and if he wished to join the search for his brother, they'd be happy to accompany him and lend their aid. Graeme was grateful for the offer, but all he'd said was that he'd decide after questioning Dauid in the morning. The three of them had then rolled up in their plaids to sleep.

Graeme had never got the opportunity to ask more questions of Dauid in the morning. He was the first to wake the next day,

had considered waking the others, but a serious need to relieve himself had sent him into the woods instead. Graeme had returned

just moments later to watch Payton MacKay riding into camp with two dozen soldiers at his back.

"That's Nellie's brother," Dauid said, waking up quickly at the arrival of so many men and horses in the small clearing.

Ignoring him, Graeme had given Payton a long once-over. Deciding he looked like he could handle himself, he'd said, "MacKay?"

"Aye" had been the spare answer.

"Ye're headin' out to look fer me brother William?" Graeme had asked.

"Aye," Payton had repeated, this time adding, "Will ye join us?"

Graeme had glanced to Teague and Symon, and when each gave an almost imperceptible nod, he answered for all of them. "Aye. We'll join yer party. Just let us saddle up."

And so, the three of them had headed off with Dauid, Payton and the MacKay soldiers he'd brought with him to look for Graeme's

brother William, a journey that had ended up taking them nearly all the way to Jerusalem. The excursion had lasted just a

few days more than six months by the time they'd reached Gunn, yet Graeme hadn't even considered that his friends might move

on now that he was laird. Now he admitted to himself that they would eventually move on. The idea saddened him, but he knew

it was inevitable. Still, he was grateful for their loyalty and friendship when—after exchanging a glance with Symon—Teague

had said, "We'll stay here at Gunn until these troubles are resolved at least."

"There ye are then," Payton had said with satisfaction. "They can continue to watch yer back while ye're up and about. Then

Annella's guards will take over standing watch at the door o' yer bedchamber at night." He didn't give anyone a chance to

protest, but had then turned to Angus to ask, "How soon can ye set up a guard fer Annella?"

Angus had hesitated and frowned. "That depends on which ye think is more important. I've two men right now I could post to

guard the buttery or Lady Annella, but the rest o' the men I'm thinking about are either manning the wall or sleeping after

a long shift. It'll take a bit o' time to find replacements for the men on the wall, and to rouse—"

"I do no' want men who are like to fall asleep on the job," Graeme had said firmly. "Put the two men available at the moment on the task o' guarding the buttery. Tomorrow morning is early enough to assign guards to Annella. She's already safely abed, and I'm heading up meself now, so..." He'd shrugged. "We should be safe enough this night."

When the men all murmured in agreement, Graeme downed the last of his mug of ale and stood to leave the table with a murmured,

"Good sleep."

He had to take a somewhat circuitous route to the stairs. All but the high table had been taken apart, the pieces stacked

against the wall to make room, and the great hall floor was already half covered with people settling in to sleep. But there

were still a lot of people milling about talking to others, or looking for family members or friends they usually slept near.

Graeme had to move cautiously to avoid stepping on anyone, but was grateful to leave that behind and start up the stairs.

He knew it had been a while since Annella had gone up to the chamber they shared and hadn't expected her to still be awake. Even so, if he was being honest with himself, he'd been disappointed when he'd entered the room to find her sound asleep. As usual his body had started to perk up at the very idea of joining her in bed, and didn't seem to care the least little bit that she was not awake. Her well-worn to the point of being see-through sleeping gown was not helping with that, and for one moment, Graeme actually considered kissing her awake, stripping away the sleeping gown she wore and sinking himself into her moist heat. But then his better, less selfish side spoke up, telling him that he should let her rest.

Graeme's head heard and agreed with the suggestion. From what he understood, his wife had suffered more than enough disturbed

nights in the six years she'd been at Gunn, thanks to her skills as healer. In fact, she was still suffering them. Annella

had been woken up a few times since their wedding. Graeme had accompanied her each time she was called away to tend to someone.

Twice it had been children with the ague and fever. The third time had been a woman in labor. Annella had sent him out of

the cottage for that one, but he'd waited outside for her to finish and then had walked her back to the castle and their chamber.

That being the case, he would not disturb her sleep, Graeme told himself firmly.

Sadly, his cock didn't have ears and couldn't read his mind. That or it simply did not care how he felt on the subject. Whichever

the case, it was up and ready to go. Since scowling down at the tent it was making under his plaid did not help, Graeme decided

a quick dip in a cold loch was in order. He considered going back out through the door, but that would mean creeping through

the people spread out on the great hall floor. Not to mention that if Payton and the others were still below at the table,

they might decide he shouldn't go alone. Frankly, he wasn't in the mood for company, or to be more precise, he wasn't in the

mood for the comments and taunts his tented plaid would bring about.

That thought in mind, Graeme crossed the room and silently opened the entrance to the secret passage. While there were several exits to the passages, the furthest one actually opened up into an area not far from the clearing where he'd first made love to Annella. The water in the river that rushed by there came down from the mountains and was always ice-cold. A dip in that should definitely take care of his overeager erection. In fact, as he stepped into the passage, Graeme fancied that it was shrinking a little just at the thought of what was awaiting it at the end of this walk. Distracted as he was with these thoughts, he never saw the person lurking in the darkness, but as he turned back to pull the panel closed, agony suddenly exploded in his head.

At first, Annella wasn't sure what had stirred her from sleep. A sound maybe? Aye, there it was, a soft rustling as material

moved, and then... Was Graeme dragging something across the floor? Confusion roused her a bit more from the deep sleep

she'd been in before being stirred awake, and then the sound of liquid splashing on the wooden floorboards caught her ear

just before the scent of uisge beatha reached her nose.

Nose twitching, Annella finally opened her eyes. She barely caught a glimpse of the dark figure standing next to the bed before

fire exploded all around her, seeming to engulf the figure.

Sitting up abruptly, Annella stared with confusion at her bedchamber. At first, she thought the entire room was afire. The flames certainly seemed to be everywhere. Certainly, it was in front of, and on both sides of, the bed. For one moment she sat still, unsure what to do, and then she managed to shake herself out of her paralysis and began to move. She had to get out of there. Somehow. She had to figure out a way through the fire. How far did it stretch beyond the bed?

That question poking at her mind, Annella shifted the furs and linens aside and stood up on the bed to try to get a better

idea of what she was dealing with. Was it just a ring of fire around the bed? Or was the whole room aflame? Unfortunately,

smoke rises and standing up put her firmly in the cloud of smoke gathering above her. She managed to get a quick glimpse of

the situation, but then was claimed by a coughing fit. It was as she lowered her face to cover her mouth that she spotted

the body on the floor next to the bed.

Annella immediately dropped to her knees on the bed. The air was better here, but she had to wait for her hacking coughs to

stop before she could crawl to the edge of the bed. Despite the thick smoke, she could see the body on the floor, and with

her face just inches from his, she immediately recognized her husband. He was being roasted alive by the fire surrounding

them. As was she.

Reaching down, Annella shook Graeme's shoulder, hoping to wake him. All that did was make his head move a bit from side to

side until it fell all the way to the right. It was then she saw the wound on his left temple. Graeme had taken a terrible

blow to the head and was unlikely to wake up. It was on her to get them both out. The question was how?

Annella took a quick look around to see what she had to work with. Not much. Both bedside tables were empty, and the bed itself held only furs and linens. Cursing, she slid off the bed, dragging the furs with her. Holding them close to keep them as far from the fire as she could, Annella eyed the area nearest her and then shifted her gaze to Graeme. Did she throw the furs on the fire and hope it covered them without bursting into flame? At least long enough that she could run across without getting burned and perhaps get to the water pitcher and basin by the windows and—And what? There wasn't enough water there to put out the fire. It would also leave her on one side of the flames and her husband on the other.

Okay, Annella reasoned, then maybe she threw the furs down and dragged Graeme across it to the other side of the fire. From

what she'd seen when standing, the flames did not fill the whole room. Yet. At the moment, it was perhaps a foot-deep band

around the bed. If Graeme were conscious, they probably would have just jumped off the bed and through it, praying the whole

while that their clothes did not catch fire. Sadly, he was not conscious.

"All right," she muttered determinedly and stepped over Graeme so that she was between him and the fire. Annella then took

a deep breath that she hoped would get her through what was coming, tossed the fur over the flames in front of her, then quickly

turned and bent to grab her husband's hands. Straightening her legs then, she attempted to drag him swiftly across the fur

to the area of flooring not yet on fire.

Graeme moved with surprising ease. As large and heavy with muscle as he was, she'd expected it to be a struggle. Instead, his oiled plaid allowed him to glide across the wooden floor with more speed and much less effort than she'd expected. He didn't, however, slide over the fur, instead the pelt was caught up around his head and shoulders and moved with them. Annella almost stopped when she noted that was happening, but then saw that the flames had been smothered where the fur had lain and she was dragging Graeme across lightly charred floorboards, not fire.

Desperate to get them both away from the flames as quickly as possible, she tried to move more swiftly, and didn't stop moving

backward until her behind bumped up against something. Raising her head then, she took in the situation at a glance. What

she'd bumped into was the wall. They were outside the ring of fire, although Graeme's booted feet were closer to the flames

than she was happy with. However, from this side, she could better see that it wasn't the floor so much as the rush mats on

the floor that were on fire, and judging by the light scorching where the pelt had smothered the flames, the fire hadn't yet

got a proper hold on the wood under the mats.

Dropping Graeme's hands, she tugged the fur out from under his head and shook it out. Blackened rushes fell around her. The

fire that had been eating them had been doused and pulled away from the others by the fur. If she was quick enough, she might

be able to smother the rest of the flames and completely put out the fire before it spread or did too much damage to the room.

Annella had barely had the thought when a coughing fit claimed her. Knowing time was of the essence, she ignored it, stumbled around Graeme and cast the fur over the section of flames between the wall and the spot she'd dragged her husband through. Annella then stomped on the fur for good measure before lifting it from the floor. Relieved to see that it had worked, she moved back the way she'd come and threw it down again over another area of flames, and then another.

By the time she reached the bottom of the bed, Annella had dropped to her knees to take advantage of the better air there

as she repeated that task over and over. She was working her way around the end of the bed, gasping for a breath that wouldn't

choke her, when she was suddenly grabbed by the shoulders and dragged to her feet.

Glancing around with confusion, she recognized Payton, and then he scooped her up. Annella tried to tell him to get Graeme,

but a paroxysm of coughing made that impossible. When it finally stopped, she leaned weakly against her brother's shoulder

and peered behind him, relieved to see Teague following them out of the bedchamber with Graeme in his arms. Past them, Symon

was leading a group of men with buckets into the burning room. The fire would be out in no time, Annella thought with relief,

and sagged in her brother's arms, then frowned as she noted his hobbling gait.

"Yer ankle," she cried, but her voice came out a husky rasp rather than the sharp protest she'd intended.

"Me ankle is fine," Payton assured her grimly. "How are you? Were ye burned?"

Even as Annella opened her mouth to answer, her brother said, "Ne'er mind. I'll see fer meself shortly, and I'd rather ye

no' talk. The smoke obviously affected yer throat. I think it best ye do no' use it until we get some liquid in ye that can

soothe it."

"I'll find a maid to fetch her some honey mead."

Annella's eyes had started to droop closed, but blinked open at that and she saw that Dauid was keeping pace with her brother.

When he saw that her eyes were open, he smiled reassuringly. "'Tis glad I am that ye're alive and well, Nellie. When we saw

the smoke seepin' out from under yer bedchamber door and the light of flames showing through the cracks, we feared what we

would find inside."

"Fetch enough honey mead fer Graeme too, Dauid," Teague said sharply. "I'm sure he'll need it as well."

Annella saw fury flash briefly on Dauid's face at the order, but it was quickly gone as he turned to move out of sight. Presumably,

to fetch the mead, or order a maid to do it. She wasn't really sure which, but was just glad he was gone. It saved her from

snapping at him about calling her Nellie and perhaps doing her throat damage.

"Can ye tell us what happened?"

Annella shifted her gaze to her brother, but before she could speak, he again said, "Ne'er mind. Ye should no' talk yet."

She managed not to roll her eyes at this, but then glanced around with curiosity when he carried her into a room. His room,

she realized.

"Payton can take my room, and I'll bunk with Symon until yer room is fit fer use again," Teague announced when her expression

showed her confusion.

Annella just managed to offer him a smile before Payton was suddenly turning toward the bed to set her down. Her bottom had barely hit the fur-covered surface when Teague was laying Graeme down on the other side of the bed. She immediately moved to try to check on his head wound, but Payton caught her by the shoulders and pulled her back around to sit facing him. He'd settled on the side of the bed, no doubt to give his injured ankle some respite, and was now examining her hands.

A scowl immediately claimed his expression. "Ye burned yerself."

Annella frowned at his choice of words. He made it sound like she was responsible for it, instead of the person who'd set

the damned fire. Then she realized what he'd said and snatched her hands from his hold to examine them herself. Much to her

relief, while she'd sustained a few burns, probably while trying to put the fire out, they weren't that bad. Some were blistering,

but most were just red spots where she'd got lightly scorched.

"Do ye ha'e a salve to put on yer wounds?" Payton asked, and then immediately said, "Do no' answer that. Ye should no' be

talkin' just now. I'll find Florie. She'll ken where yer medicinals are." Standing up, Payton then started to hobble away

muttering, "I hope they were no' destroyed in the fire."

"I'll go find out where Dauid got to with that mead else we'll ne'er hear how the fire started," Angus announced, and Annella

glanced with surprise to where the old soldier stood beside Teague. She hadn't realized he was there too, but supposed she

shouldn't be surprised. The man had been sitting with her husband and the others when she'd left the table.

She was watching the soldier leave, when Teague asked, "Was the fire an accident?" Before she could try to speak, he added, "Nod yes, or shake yer head fer no."

Annella shook her head for answer, then rose up onto her knees so that she could shift on the bed to face Graeme and look

him over. He was lying with his right side to her, so she couldn't see his head wound until she caught his chin and turned

his face.

"Then I gather that was no accident either?" Teague asked.

Knowing he was talking about the head wound, Annella hesitated the briefest moment, but then shook her head again. She hadn't

seen how her husband had taken the injury, but she had seen a dark figure before the rush mats had burst into flame and briefly blinded her. It seemed likely that the intruder

was responsible for both the fire and Graeme's wound.

Wanting to wipe away some of the blood from his wound to get a better look at the damage done, Annella glanced around for

a clean bit of cloth to dab at it with. Unfortunately, unless she wanted to start ripping up the bed linens, there was nothing

she could use. She'd have to wait for Payton to return with her bag.

Sighing, Annella shifted her gaze over the rest of him then. Unlike her, his hands seemed fine and there didn't appear to be any other burns on his person. But recalling his booted feet lying close to the fire, she shifted down the bed, taking a quick glance at his legs as she went to be sure there were no burns or other wounds there. A quick perusal didn't reveal any, so Annella shifted her attention to his boots. They seemed fine, which she supposed wasn't surprising. Leather tended to stand up well under fire in her expe rience. That didn't mean his feet were fine inside them though. Leather might resist melting or igniting when fire was near, but that didn't mean it didn't grow hot. Worried about his feet, she reached for the nearer boot and started to try to remove it, only to stop on a cry of pain. Actually, Annella didn't cry out. She meant to, but the sound that came out was more along the lines of a pained croak.

"Yer damaging yer already damaged hands," Teague said with reproach. "Just sit still. I'll remove his boots fer ye if ye think

'tis necessary."

Annella nodded to assure him that it was indeed necessary, and then waited impatiently as he walked to the foot of the bed

and set to the task. He had both boots off faster than she would have managed one, and then stepped back to allow her to examine

Graeme's feet. Annella didn't touch them. She didn't need to. Besides, her fingers were still throbbing from her attempt to

remove his boot. The activity had burst a couple of the blisters on her fingers, and she knew that—aside from hurting like

a bugger—it increased the risk of infection. She couldn't touch anything until the burns on her hands and fingers had been

cleaned, salve applied and fresh linens wrapped around them.

Sighing, Annella sank back on her heels and glanced impatiently toward the door. But the sight of her brother returning with

her bag of medicinals in hand, and Florie trailing him with two pitchers, two mugs and a concerned expression on her face,

had her perking up at once.