Child of the Mist Read Online Free PDF Page A

Anne turned to him. "And why should one MacGregor more or less matter to the likes o' you? Don't waste your pity on me, Campbell! My debt is paid, 'Tis my only comfort, and little will it be in the coming days o' caring for you!"
    Anne strode away. Soon Niall Campbell would take his rest in the damp, fetid depths of MacGregor dungeons. He'd need food, water, and his wounds tended, and he was now her responsibility.
    Even the thought of touching him sickened her, vile, vicious beast that he was. But touch him she would, nurse him in the best way she knew how. Until her father decided the proper course of action, Niall Campbell's welfare was now of utmost concern. For her people's sake, Anne would care for the devil himself.
    "More," Niall gasped, thinking he'd never get enough to slake his thirst. "Give me more."
    Anne pulled back with the cup and water pitcher before he could reach it with his chained hands. She firmly shook her head. "Nay, 'tis enough for now. Youll only make yourself sick if you drink too much so soon. Give your belly time."
    Niall wiped his mouth with the back of a grimy hand. "Och, and aren't you the heartless wench? Is this but another MacGregor torture? Tormenting me with a sip or two, not enough to slake my thirst but only tease it?"
    "Call it what you will." Anne set the pitcher and cup aside and took up her herb bag and a box filled with bandages and bowls. "One way or another, you'll get no more to drink until I deem fit."
    She paused to eye him closely, her glance moving down his body with a coolly detached air. "Your leg looks the worst. I'll tend it first. Raise your kilt."
    Dark eyebrows arched in weary amusement, for Niall's thigh wound was long, extending nearly to his groin. "Are you certain you want me exposing myself? You're a maid, aren't you?"
    She expelled an exasperated breath. "And sure, don't you suppose I've seen a man's body or two in my years o' healing? 'Tisn't your privates I'm wanting to tend, only your leg. Do you want your wounds seen to or not?"
    Niall shrugged and lifted his kilt to expose the full length of his leg. "I only thought to spare your sensibilities." He gestured toward the jagged cut. "Have at it, lass."
    Silence hung heavily over the dank chamber as Anne worked in the flickering torchlight. She could feel his eyes upon her, sense them slide over her body as she carefully labored on his leg. It angered her, though she knew it for the normal masculine act it was. That realization disturbed her most of all.
    Gritting her teeth, she forced her attention back to the task at hand. The wound was shallow. Apart from some redness at the edges, it appeared it would heal well enough.
    Her gaze moved outward from the cut, noting the powerful, iron-thewed thigh. He was in superb physical condition, the muscles and sinews bulging under tautly stretched, hair-roughened skin. A terri -
    ble, lethal enemy in battle, Anne mused, the murderer of many a fine MacGregor lad . The thought once more stirred her anger. Her touch, as she applied her herbal healing salve, was brisk.
    "Why are you so angry at me, lass?"
    The unexpected query startled Anne. Her head jerked up. Her eyes careened into his. Calm brown eyes, flecked surprisingly with gold, stared back at her. For a moment, no words would come.
    "A-angry?" she repeated in disbelief. Was he daft? What did he expect, Campbell that he was? Anne shook her head, perversely refusing to give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right.
    The faintest glimmer of a smile touched his lips. "You nearly bit my head off earlier when I told you I was sorry to cause trouble between you and your father. And now you're tending me with less than a gentle hand. I haven't said a word since you began, so how have I suddenly angered you?"
    Anne opened her mouth to reply, then clamped it shut. She didn't owe him an explanation and he'd not get one. Inhaling a calming breath, she turned back to the bandaging of his leg.
    "I'm not here to be your