CHAPTER Eleven
When Calum jumped for the ledge and missed, Anne squeezed her arms tight against her body. Far above his head, there was no chance they’d reach it. She wished she’d never mentioned falconry. It took months to train a fledgling. What would happen to the bird once she left? Would Calum assign someone to care for it? Perhaps—yes, if she asked and if he was serious about hunting with raptors.
Anne looked at the sky. Teaming with birds, falconry would be another way the clan could help stave off hunger.
Calum had left his claymore sheathed to his saddle, but he pulled out his dirk and started chipping at the rock. Was he actually going to attempt to mount the ledge? Anne paced, wishing the men would just come down and forget this whole thing.
An eternity passed while Calum chipped and Bran clung to the rock below him. Finally, Calum put away his dirk and motioned to the boy. Anne held her breath. Calum looked like a spider climbing up a vertical wall. He launched himself onto the ledge and held on with his arms, his legs dangling over the side. Her feet tingled as if she were hanging in the sky along with Calum.
He swung his leg over the edge and pulled himself up. Anne clapped her hand over her mouth. The man must be part squirrel.
He motioned to Bran. Oh no, he couldn’t expect the boy to do the same. But Calum lay on his stomach and reached his arms over the side. Bran balanced on a rock and jumped up, grasping Calum’s hands.
Bran swung there for a moment, and Calum used brute strength to pull the lad over the ledge. Anne held her hands against her chest and exhaled. They were safe. She had no idea how they’d get down, but at the moment, both appeared unscathed.
An eagle screeched overhead. Calum knelt and Bran climbed on his shoulders. They teetered a bit while Calum stood. The eagle swooped at Bran’s head. He swatted it away and wobbled. Anne drew in a gasp, but Bran reached out his hands and steadied himself against the rock wall. Calum eased closer to the cliff. Reaching up, Bran seemed to catch something. He drew his hands back to his chest. Did he have a fledgling? The eagle dove, but Bran slid his legs down and sat between Calum’s shoulders. He waved at her. He did have one.
Anne glanced at his pony. Drat. Bran had left the cage behind. She dashed over and untied it from his saddle. She could climb up and meet them half way. She only hoped Bran wouldn’t crush the bird before she reached them.
Anne held up the cage so they could see it. Calum hollered something, but she couldn’t discern it. No matter, he’d tell her just as soon as she could reach them. She made her way around to the place where Calum had started to climb and stepped up. Steadying herself on a rock, she pulled up her heavy skirts. Women’s clothing could be ridiculously cumbersome. But, the men’s climb had looked as if it had been easy until they reached the ledge.
Anne held up the cage while she slid her doeskin boots over the big rocks. Unaccustomed to climbing, her legs burned. The weight of her riding skirts made the ascent all the more difficult. But she could see them now. Looking up the hill, straining to see Calum, she took a step. The stone beneath her foot crumbled. She flung out her foot to find traction. It dropped into a hole and twisted. Anne fell to her knees. The rubble below her gave way. Out of control, she tumbled down the crag with a landslide of rock and dirt in her wake.
***
When the rubble gave way and sent Anne careening down the hill, Calum forgot the bird and barreled after her. He feared the worst when she lay in a heap against a huge boulder. His heart flew to his throat, but then she moved. Anne had her back to him when she first tried to stand. She wobbled and dropped back down. His heart beat faster. Just as he reached her, she looked up, blood streaming down her face.
His gut seized. “Lord in heaven, you’re bleeding.”
She shaded her eyes then studied the blood on her hand. “’Tis my ankle that hurts. It twisted a bit.”
“Just yer ankle?” He tore a makeshift bandage from the hem of his shirt and held it to her head. “Ye’ve had a nasty blow.” He bent down and inspected the gash, just under her hairline.
“I dropped the cage. I hope I didn’t break it.”
Calum held the cloth to her head. “Ye cannot be serious. Ye’ve just tumbled down a rocky crag and you’re worried about a wee cage?”
Bran skidded to a halt behind him. “Lady Anne, are ye all right?” Bran took one look at her bloody face. “Och, you’re bleedin’ like a stuck pig.”
She pushed Calum’s hand away. “’Tis only a scratch. How about my fledgling? Did the poor thing make it down the hill?”
Calum reapplied the bandage, slipping his arm around her back to give her support. “Hold still. That fly-bitten bird is the least of our concern.”
Anne persisted. “Bran?”
The lad stepped forward and revealed the eagle cradled in his hands. “’Tis still a chick—no’ quite ready to fledge.”
Anne’s face lit up with an enormous smile. “Oh, look at that sweet little thing. He’s beautiful. Thank you, Bran. Thank you both.”
It was as if the bird was all that mattered to her. She rested against Calum’s arm and closed her eyes. “I’m afraid I need some help getting back to the ponies. My ankle’s awfully sore.”
Calum raised the hem of her dress and revealed the swelling. She wouldn’t be walking anywhere. “Dunna ye worry, milady. We’ll have Friar Pat to tend ye.” In one motion, he stood with Anne cradled tight in his arms. “Bran, put the bird in the cage. We’ve got to take Lady Anne back to Brochel quickly.”
He hated to see her bleeding. This was his fault. He should have brought Mara so Anne wouldn’t have had to stand alone while he and Bran climbed the crag. How could he have bounded up there just to impress her?
With one arm, he cradled Anne against his chest, led the horse to a boulder and mounted. Her tiny frame felt so small, so vulnerable. “Lead the mare,” he called over his shoulder.
Anne’s eyes opened and closed as he rode, as if she were having trouble staying awake.
He gave her a squeeze with his fingers. “Are ye all right? Am I holding ye too tight?”
She turned her head toward him and closed her eyes again, mumbling something he couldn’t understand.
He rode hard and fast, supporting her so she would not jostle overmuch. “We’re nearly there. ‘Twill be all right.”
His gut twisted in knots, Calum cantered the pony through the bailey and headed straight for the great hall. The arm supporting Anne burned, but he tightened his grip and held her steady while he kicked free of his stirrups and slid off. In the blink of an eye, he was surrounded by worried faces. He pushed his way into the hall. “Someone call the friar. Mara! I need ye now!”
He cradled Anne against his chest and bounded up the steps.
“Calum?” Anne’s sweet voice asked.
“We’re nearly there, love.” Did he just say “love”? He hoped she hadn’t noticed. His emotions had run on the edge of raw for too long. He repeated “milady” in his head until he reached the second landing.
Her fingers brushed against his chest. “Why are you so beautiful?”
Now he knew the knock to her head had made her delusional. Him? Beautiful? He’d been called a lot of things, but never beautiful. But Calum’s heart fluttered when he glanced at her eyes. They were half cast, her lips parted, as if she were dreaming. Even with blood caked in her hair, she looked an angel.
He pushed through the door and propped her against the pillows on the bed. Heaving a sigh, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “How are ye feeling, milady?”
“Better. My head’s throbbing a bit.”
“And your ankle?”
“I think it will be fine.”
She tried to lean forward to look at it, but Calum placed his hand on her shoulder and encouraged her to lay back. “Rest.”
Friar Pat barreled through the door with Mara right behind. She carried a basket full of bandages and bottles of herbs.
The friar rushed to Anne’s bedside, wheezing from exertion. “What happened?”
“She had a nasty fall.” Pat shot him an accusing look and Calum spread his palms. “I told her to stay by the ponies.”
“I wanted to help. ’Twas very clumsy of me,” Anne said, again trying to sit up. “I’m so sorry to cause such a stir.”
The friar patted her shoulder. “There, there, lass. Ye mustn’t exert yerself until I’ve had a chance to look at ye.” He turned to Calum. “Ye best take yer leave while we see to the baroness.”
Calum moved to the end of the bed. He wasn’t about to depart the chamber until he knew Anne would be well.
Friar Pat and Mara paid him no notice. The holy man leaned over and inspected the gash on her head. “And how are ye feeling now, milady?”
“My head hurts, but otherwise, I think I’m well.”
He stretched the skin of her temple with his fingers. “It doesna look too bad.”
“Her ankle is swollen too,” Calum said, grasping the footboard and leaning forward.
The friar’s brows formed a straight line across his forehead. His gaze darted toward Calum with a silent admonishment. Calum pursed his lips and folded his arms. If he didn’t keep his mouth shut, Pat would usher him out and lock the door.
“We’ll apply a honey poultice to keep the head wound from turning putrid, and then I’ll have a look at yer ankle.” The friar patted her hand and smiled. “How does that sound?”
“Just give me a moment to rest, and I’ll be up and around.”
Calum ran his fingers through his hair. “Ye were unconscious. Ye cannot just spring up out of bed and traipse around the keep as if nothing happened.”
Anne pushed herself forward, a flush rising to her face. “Pardon me, but I know my own body.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed and swooned.
Mara caught her before she fell forward and helped her back upon the bed.
The friar pointed at the door. “Calum MacLeod, ye need to let us tend to the lady in peace. Go stable yer pony and I’ll send word as soon as she’s ready to see you.”
He headed for the door, but Anne’s voice stopped him. “I want to see the eagle.”
He glanced over his shoulder. She looked so frail resting atop the huge bed. His heart twisted into a knot. This was his fault. If only he could hold her in his arms while the friar tended to her. He could protect her, mayhap even take some of the pain away. “I’ll bring him shortly, milady.”
***
Anne choked back the pain as Friar Pat gently flexed her ankle and determined nothing was broken. She examined it over her skirts. The swelling had already gone down some and aside from a little bruising, it didn’t look too bad. After applying a honey poultice to her head and rubbing a soothing salve into her ankle, the friar offered Anne a warm cup of willow bark tea. “This will help the pain. I’ll have Mara bring up a draught to help ye sleep, but ye must rest for three days.”
She cupped the tea in her hands. “Three days? That will drive me mad. I should be fine by the morrow.”
“We cannot take any chances with yer health, milady. Do as I say and ye’ll be walking on your ankle pain free in no time.”
Anne bit down upon her objection. There was no use arguing, but she would give it a fair test once she was alone. Stay in bed for three days? He must be daft.
As Mara and the friar took their leave, Calum tapped on the door and cracked it open. “I have the fledgling, milady.”
Thank heavens he’d returned so quickly. Calum’s brows pinched together and he held up the eagle. Sitting up, the bedclothes neatly tucked around her waist, Anne beckoned him forward. “Thank you, thank you. Bring him here, please.”
Calum grinned like a boy on Christmas morn. The downy eagle chirped and stretched its wings. Anne held out her arms. “Aw, what a sweet little biscuit.”
Calum set the cage beside her and dragged a chair over to the bed. “I think he’s hungry.”
“We must feed him. Have the cook grind up some meat and mix it with a bit of water.” Anne made kissing sounds. “Hello, little darling. We’re going to turn you into a fierce hunter.” He chirped back at her as if he liked the idea. Anne opened the cage and stroked his feathers.
“What should we call him?” Calum asked.
“It could be a girl.”
“Can ye tell?”
Anne lifted one of its little legs. “Not yet.” She smiled at Calum. “How about Swan, since we met on the Flying Swan?”
“I wouldn’t think ye’d want to be reminded of that.”
“Why not?” She studied his face and smiled at his worried frown. The feared laird was not so fierce now she’d come to know him. The thought that their time together would not last tugged on her heart. She allowed her eyes drift down with a sigh.
Calum sprang to his feet. “Are ye in pain?”
Anne forced a smile. “No. I’m sorry. I was just thinking how difficult it will be when it comes time for me to leave.” She shook her head. “Isn’t that daft? Here I’m your prisoner and I am ever so enjoying learning about life in the far reaches of Scotland. You must think me a fool.”
Calum resumed his seat and grasped her hand. “Nay, milady. It has been very pleasant to have ye here. Everyone thinks so.”
“Aside from Norman.”
“Aye, well perhaps no’ me brother, but he’ll come around.”
“Probably not before I leave.” Anne returned her attention to the fledgling and reached her hand into the cage. “Come here, darling. You’ll feel safer if you nestle with me.” She cupped the baby raptor to her bosom and Calum watched her with a faraway glint to his eye. “Would you be able to bring his food, please? I’d like to give it to him and start the bond.”
In no time, Calum returned with the soupy meat mixture, and Anne ladled it into Swan’s mouth with her fingernail.
“’Tis a bit tedious.”
“Yes, but I’ve nothing better to do.” She cradled the bird like a babe. “And he needs a gentle hand to care for him.” When she stopped feeding the bird, Swan gave her a peck on the wrist. Anne jerked her hand away. “He’s nearly ready to eat on his own this one—almost drew blood.”
“Perhaps ye should wear falconing gloves.” Calum leaned in and examined her hand. He rubbed the spot where Swan had nipped her then held it to his lips. “I never want to see ye hurt again, milady.”
Their stares connected and held. He cared. The swelling in Anne’s heart could not possibly be love. But this man had come to mean so much to her. How had she let that happen? She ached to bring Calum’s head to her breast and hold it there too. And though Swan settled into the crook of her arm and slept, she wanted more from Calum. Riding back to Brochel, he’d held her in his arms and she never had really lost consciousness. It felt heavenly to be surrounded by his powerful frame. She’d closed her eyes and wished she could stay there forever.
Anne clamped her fists to her head when the hole in her heart jerked her back to her plight. The daughter of the Earl of Southampton do as she pleased? Never. Her life had never been hers and never would be.
Mara entered the chamber with a goblet. “I have the draught the friar prepared.”
“Must I drink it?”
Calum reached out and grasped her hand. “It will help ye sleep.”
Anne closed her eyes—her life would be hers in this moment. “Set it beside the bed. I shall take it when I’m ready to sleep.”
Mara pursed her lips, but did as Anne asked.
“Thank you.” It was a small win, but one she needed.
Calum stayed beside her bed. In the chamber where no one watched, he was tender and gentle. Anne saw none of the hardened pirate who sparred with his men every morning and plundered ships to bring back food for his people. Next to her was a strong man with crystal blue eyes that looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman on earth. She would take this moment and lock it in her heart for all eternity.