Page 34 of Glasgow Rogue

The unsmiling man strode toward them, although a look of surprise flitted across his face as he noticed Annie looking out the window. She quickly pulled her head back in. Dear Lord! If that was Ian MacLeod, he certainly didn’t look welcoming. What would they do if he turned them away?

“Why are ye bringing a woman here?” he asked the driver. “And in my own carriage?”

Before the driver could answer, Annie pushed open the door and jumped down. The black-haired man frowned and looked down at her. Good heavens, he was tall. She lifted her chin. “I am nae important. I have a wounded man in here.”

The frown deepened. “We are hardly a way-stop. Why bring him here?”

“For heaven’s sake, does it matter?” a female voice asked behind him.

Annie started as a young woman, with chestnut hair that had an odd blonde streak through it, appeared beside the man. A resigned look replaced the frown. “I thought I told ye to stay inside, Jillian, until I kenned it was safe for ye to come out.”

“I believe you did say that, Ian.” The woman turned to look at Annie. “My husband is quite overly protective of me. How badly is your friend hurt?”

Her accent was English, but Annie felt an immediate empathy for her. “His leg is infected from a stab wound four days ago—”

“Four days! Why did ye nae take him to a physician?” Ian asked, giving her a look that said in no uncertain terms she must be completely daft. “I ask again. Why bring the man here?”

“’Tis where he wanted to come and Captain Vance has already sent for the physician from Glenfinnan,” Annie replied. “Niall said ye were Alasdair’s brother by marriage—”

“Alasdair? Niall? Ye have a MacDonald in there?” Ian pushed past her without waiting for a response and jerked the door wide and then cursed. “God Almighty! He is near death.”

Jillian gestured toward two soldiers standing nearby. “Come here and assist.”

“Just have them get the door,” Ian said as he pulled Niall halfway out of the carriage, then stooped to bring Niall over his shoulder. With a grunt, he stood and began walking toward the house.

Annie stared after him. Niall was a solidly built man and not short, yet Ian MacLeod did not seem to be bothered by the weight. Jillian caught her look and smiled. “As laird of this branch of MacLeods, my husband also insists on being the strongest.”

“Laird? I thought the English outlawed that claim,” Annie said as she and Jillian followed Ian inside.

“Oh, they have.” Jillian smiled again. “But one thing I have learned since marrying Ian is that Highlanders do not much care what the English think.”

“But ye are English?”

Jillian nodded. “It is a long story and one which you will probably have time to hear while your…husband?…heals.”

“He is nae my husband.” Annie felt her face warm at Jillian’s inquiring look. “’Tis a long story too.”

“Then it can wait,” Jillian answered as two identical-looking girls no more than four-and-ten rushed into the foyer, trying to shout over each other.

“Who is the stranger?”

“Why is he here?”

“Was that why the carriage—”

“Hush,” Jillian said and looked at Annie. “Our nieces, Kaitlin and Kaylin. They are a rather long story, too.” She turned back to them. “I want one of you to go upstairs and get the faerie stone, then go to the glade in the forest and wait for the crone. Bring her here.”

“We will both do it!” one of them said as they rushed off.

“And no loitering!” Jillian called after them.

“The faerie stone?” Annie asked as they followed the twins up the stairs at a somewhat slower pace. “I ken of rumors that Clan MacLeod keeps the remnants of a faerie flag at Dunvegan castle on Skye, but I have nae heard of a stone.”

Jillian nodded. “The flag is part of the ancestral legend, but the stone was given to me by a young girl at the local market two years ago. It is brown with a golden streak through it, much like my hair. The child said a faerie lived inside and I could call on her for help if I needed it.”

“And ye think she spoke true? That the stone has powers?” Annie tried to keep the skepticism out of her voice, but Jillian probably heard it, because she raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.

“I can only tell you that when Bridget and I went back to look for the girl, she was nowhere to be found and no one else had seen her.” Jillian hesitated and then went on.

“And, a few weeks later, when my life was in danger, a young woman appeared out of what seemed nowhere and intervened.” Jillian stopped in front of a door on the second floor.

“But enough on me. It is your…um, Niall…that is in danger now. The Crone of the Hills is a healer.”

Jillian opened the door and stepped aside to let Annie enter.

She looked around in amazement. In the few minutes it had taken for them to get up here, servants were bustling about.

One maid stoked the fire in the hearth while another poured water into a kettle and set it in front of the fire to heat.

A third ripped strips of linen into bandages while a fourth dipped a washcloth into a basin and pressed it to Niall’s forehead and then down his neck and on to his shoulders as he lay in the bed, a crisp white sheet pulled halfway up his bare chest. All of his clothing, including the bloodied breeches, lay neatly folded in a stack at the foot of the bed.

Annie frowned, wondering which one of the maids had undressed Niall. They were all young.

Ian stood in the middle of the room, an apparent pillar of stone in the midst of all the movement. The servants were evidently well-trained—not a surprise if they considered Ian their laird—because he didn’t say a word but commanded with a glance.

He did look somewhat relieved, though, when Jillian came in to take charge. “I will go and get the crone.”

“I have already sent the twins for her,” Jillian said, looking around the room with a practiced eye.

“The twins? Are ye sure that was a good idea? The healer has nae liking for the noise they make. She might well hide instead.”

Jillian shook her head. “She will come when she sees the stone.”

Ian grimaced. “Let us hope they doona lose it first.”

“They will not lose it.”

Annie didn’t know how Jillian could be so sure, but she moved away from the conversation and went to stand by Niall’s side. She held out her hand to the maid who was semi-bathing Niall. “I will do that.”

The girl glanced in Jillian’s direction before giving over the cloth with a grumpy look. Annie ignored it and dipped the cloth again before sitting on the edge of the bed to apply it.

Niall’s eyes were still closed, but she thought his breathing was stronger.

That, along with the two times his eyes had fluttered open, made her think he might be coming out of his laudanum-induced coma.

She desperately wanted him to, but then wondered if the pain would be unbearable if he did.

If he started thrashing around, it would only make the infection spread.

Annie lifted the sheet slightly to check Niall’s leg. Ian had left the bandage on so all she could see was the redness around it. The swelling hadn’t gone down, but she didn’t think it had gotten worse either.

She hoped the doctor wouldn’t be long in coming, although she didn’t know how long it would take for him to climb the mountain. Would he make it before nightfall or would he wait until morning? Annie bit her lip as she applied the damp cloth again. It seemed all they did was wait.

As if reading her mind, Jillian came to her side as Ian left the room. “It should not be long. Once the crone sees the stone, she will hurry.”

“Ye put a lot of faith in that stone,” Annie said, hoping she didn’t sound too cynical.

Magical stones and local healers whose reputations were often more folklore than fact didn’t exactly set her mind at ease.

But then she remembered the conversation she’d had with Mrs. O’Connor at the convent home regarding the Fae.

Maybe one day ye will believe, she had said.

“Perhaps, but superstitions run strong in the Highlands. What Ian said is true. The healer has no liking for all the chattering the twins do. It is one reason I sent them.” Jillian winked conspiratorially. “To hurry her along.”

Annie smiled, in spite of the grave situation. She liked Jillian even if Ian did seem a bit imposing. “Where did your husband go?”

“He is going to send a messenger to Arisaig to let Niall’s family know he is here.”

“’Tis a good idea. Could ye send a post to his other brother in Glasgow—as well as my mother—to let them ken where we are?” Annie said and then paused. “Niall was going to take me to Arisaig to be safe.”

Jillian gave her a curious look and then shooed the maids out of the room. She waited until the door had closed behind them. “Safe from what?”

“My life might have been in danger,” Annie said.

Jillian studied her a moment. “Are you in trouble with the local authorities?”

“Nae. At least, I doona think so,” Annie answered as she thought about how complicated the whole situation was.

“I am only asking because if I do not, my husband certainly will,” Jillian said quietly.

Ian MacLeod would no doubt command to know not only how the stabbing had happened, but why it had happened.

He and Jillian had the right to know if they were protecting fugitives.

Annie swallowed hard. They certainly wouldn’t put Niall out since he was wounded and kin by marriage, but she was not related to them in any way.

Ian looked formidable enough to toss her out and let her fend for herself.

Before she could begin to speak, Ian returned. The room suddenly seemed smaller with him in it.

“Annie was about to tell me what happened in Glasgow,” Jillian said.

Ian folded his arms across his chest. “And I was about to ask. ’Tis why I came up here.”