Chapter 9
Chapter 9
’Twas past dark by the time Anna was able to leave the castle and go down to Janet’s cottage for Kyla. She found her friend reclining on the pallet where she’d left her, feeding her bairn. A bowl of savory broth sat discarded beside her.
“How is she?” Anna asked Janet.
“Weak. Tired. Afeared.”
The skin ’round Kyla’s eye had turned an ugly purple, and there was a large, lumpy bruise welling up around the gash on her lip. Anna wished she could take her to Spirit Isle and soak her in the healing waters there, but her friend was in no shape to travel across the straits to get there. Nor was it likely she would be able to crawl through the narrow stone cave that tunneled through the mountain to the interior of the isle.
“Has she any broken bones?”
“Nay, but she’s bruised all over,” Janet replied. “He knocked her about pretty well this time.”
Anna’s concern flared to anger. “ ’Tis all I can do to keep from searching for the miserable beast and putting a bullet into his brain.”
“Anna, no,” Kyla gasped. Tears shimmered in her eyes.
“And why wouldn’t I?” Anna demanded, unable to contain her anger. “No doubt the bleeter went back to the pub after his dunking and he’s still so jaked he wouldn’t recognize a pistol if I stuck it right between his eyes. What I wouldn’t give to blow the clarty monster’s—”
“Well, I do’na know where ye’d get a pistol, lass,” Janet said, “but ye’ve no time for it now, anyway. Ye need to get Kyla away before the man comes to his senses and remembers where she is.”
Anna blinked back her own tears, aware that Janet was right.
She crouched down before her friend. “Kyla, do you think you can walk up to the castle?”
“No, Anna,” Kyla said quietly. “I must take Douglas and go home.”
“Not tonight,” Janet countered. “Not until someone talks some sense into your bloody husband.”
“Or beats it into him.”
“What?” Kyla whimpered.
Ach, Anna knew her friend had loved her husband once, but how could she now—after all the beatings and the horrible, harsh words? “I’ve made Gudrun’s cottage ready for you,” she said, for there was no point in arguing with Kyla about Birk’s worth. She was blinded by love, and there was no telling when she’d get her sight back. “Well, at least the bed is ready. I spared little time moving the old crates aside or doing anything more.”
When she’d finished her chores at the keep, she’d hurried out to the wee thatched cottage where Gudrun had lived until her death ten years ago. ’Twas Flora who’d suggested the old croft, for no one ever used it these days except for storage, but it was habitable, if crowded with crates full of discards from the castle. “Birk doesn’t know of it, so he won’t find you tonight. You can sleep in peace ... and heal.”
Kyla gave her a dubious look. “What about his uncle? Mungo Ramsay will be about the castle grounds.”
Aye, Mungo was a large, muscular man, well suited to doing any heavy work that was required within the castle walls. There was little smithing to do these days, and Anna did not know what to make of him. But he always kept his distance, rarely even speaking to her.
But he watched her, and he kept his eyes on Kyla whenever she came up. It was unnerving, but he’d never made a move to harm either of them. Anna suspected Mungo was one of Catrìona’s conquests, but she did not care to give that distasteful thought too much attention.
“No one ever thinks about Gudrun’s cottage. Not since it’s been closed up all these years.” Anna took Douglas from Kyla’s arms and patted his back. “Please, Kyla, don’t argue.”
The bairn gave out a loud belch. “Well now. That’s a braw lad,” Janet said.
“Anna ...”
Anna ignored her friend’s plaintive tone. “You’ll be fine tonight up at the castle. Can you walk up there?” Anna would borrow a horse and cart if need be.
Kyla touched her injured lip and winced. “I’ll try,” she said, and Anna was relieved there would be no further discussion—and no tears—about going home to her nasty turnip of a husband.
Anna handed Douglas to Janet and helped Kyla to her feet. Kyla was unsteady at first, but she managed to walk to the door.
“Come on, then. Lean on me.”
Kyla took Anna’s arm, and Anna took Douglas from Janet. “I’ll look in on you tomorrow, lass,” Janet said. “And bring ye news of yer husband.”
Kyla nodded. “Thank you, Janet. For everything.”
’Twas a slow walk up to the castle, with Kyla leaning heavily upon Anna. Douglas fell asleep in Anna’s arms, and when they finally reached the castle keep and skirted ’round to the side gardens and beyond, Anna could see that Kyla was spent.
“Only a few steps more,” Anna said, urging her friend forward across the overgrown cobbled path to the cottage. ’Twas tucked away far from the keep, so no one would hear Douglas if he cried during the night.
Anna wanted to avoid Mungo Ramsay seeing them, and she didn’t want young Glenna to know she’d brought Kyla to the castle. She feared neither of them could keep Kyla’s whereabouts secret.
She pushed open the door to the cottage and slipped inside. Fortunately, there was just enough light from the open window for them to see the bed beyond the stacked crates, on the other side of the fireplace. Kyla lay down, and Anna put Douglas beside her, then knelt to build a fire.
“I put an extra blanket out for you, Ky.”
“I cannot thank you enough for all you’ve done for me, Anna. But you know I must—”
“Let’s not think about what you must do. Not now.”
The fire flared to life, and Anna rested back on her heels. She thought of those early days after her mother’s death, when she’d been left to fend for herself.
MacDuffie had been so drunk he hadn’t even noticed Anna’s absence, and there’d been no one but Gudrun to object when Catrìona had ejected Anna from the bedchamber she’d been given next to her mother’s.
Back then, Kyla had been no more than an orphan herself, but she’d become Anna’s anchor in her time of grief. They’d quickly become as close as sisters. “Do you remember when my mother died?” Anna asked.
Kyla nodded and brushed one of Douglas’s russet curls off his forehead. “We were alone, but for Gudrun. And she was grieving your mother, as well.” She lay quietly for a moment. “Anna, if anything should happen to me, I want you to promise—”
“Naught will happen to you!” This was not the direction Anna had intended the conversation to go.
“But you know it could. You and I lost both our parents at a young age,” Kyla said, laying her head down. “I just want the comfort of knowing you’ll see to Douglas if—”
“You think Birk will allow it?” Anna retorted. She knew what Kyla wanted, and ’twas hardly realistic. “Just be sure to take no chances, Kyla. With anything.”
’Twas clear Kyla knew she should fear that Birk would one day kill her. The thought of it made Anna’s blood run cold, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that ’twould not happen tonight.
Ah. So much for the madness of love. ’Twas a state that served no one well.
Anna made sure Kyla was comfortable and Douglas sound asleep. “Go to sleep now, min kj?re venn.”
The Norse term Gudrun had taught them brought a cautious smile to Kyla’s injured mouth.
“I’ll just run up to the kitchen and gather some supplies for us,” Anna added, rising to her feet. She tucked the extra blanket ’round her friend, for ’twas damp and still chilly in the cottage. “I’ll be back soon.”
She left the cottage and closed the door tightly behind her. No one would find Kyla there. No one would even think of looking for her at the cottage. Except Flora, and she was no threat to anyone beyond trying to overfeed them.
Anna walked through the dense brush toward the keep and turned ’round to make sure the smoke from the cottage’s chimney was not too thick. Reassuring herself ’twas hardly visible, she turned back—
And crashed into something entirely unexpected.
She whirled ’round.
“Anna?” Lachann MacMillan stood directly in her path. He bowed slightly, and Anna pressed one hand to her breast as though it could slow her heart. “We seem to be meeting in odd places.”
“What are you doing out here?” Anna blurted, careful not to turn ’round again or give any other clue about the cottage.
“I could ask the same of you,” he said. He stood far too close for Anna’s peace of mind. One step more and they would be touching.