"Anna Douglas."
"Aye, we all ken that, but which clan was she born into? Which village or town is she from? What of her past?"
"I know not, uncle. If you wish to find out, ask her. I'll not go prying into her private life. She's a musician and a singer. That's all I need to ken."
"Humph."
"What does that mean?"
Bhatar raised his white brows. "Just that… what with the way you've always got your eye on her, I think you would like to know her better.Triùir a thig gun iarraidh—gaol, eud, 'us eagal."Three that come unbidden—love, jealousy, and fear.
***
Anna sang the old ballad, putting her heart and soul into the delivery. Although the great hall was filled, she heard no sounds other than her own voice and Eli playing the lute behind her. She closed her eyes as she belted out the last line, the note hanging in the air for a long moment.
Afterward, the applause deafened her. She smiled and curtsied, happy tears burning her eyes because they appreciated her singing so much. 'Twas her only joy in life.
Blinking back the tears, she lifted her gaze and it connected with Neacal's. At first, he was not clapping, but was instead staring at her with that gaze of stark pain. He glanced aside and clapped as everyone else did.
Wishing she knew what he was thinking, she curtsied again and moved off to the side. Vardon, the piper, took her place, front and center, and began playing.
Since the pipes played indoors hurt her ears, she wove through the crowd to gain some distance from the shrill instrument.
An argument broke out a few feet in front of her, two clansmen yelling insults. She drew to an abrupt halt. Before she could move, one swung a fist, smashing the other's nose. Blood splattered. She leapt back as the injured man struck his attacker in the stomach. Cursing, they latched onto one another and staggered roughly about the floor, slamming into people. Other men grabbed onto them, attempting to break them up.
Anna stumbled back, surprised when the tall iron candelabrum across from her tottered, headed straight toward her. Alarmed, she leapt out of the way and landed on her backside on the floor. Close to her, the heavy candelabrum crashed to the stone floor with a loud clang. One of the lit candles bounced and landed against Anna's skirt, catching it ablaze. Panic seizing her, she tried to stamp out the fire, but couldn't manage it, seated on the floor as she was. The flames singed her ankle. "Ouch!"
"Out of my way!" someone yelled.
Neacal stamped his large, booted foot upon her skirts and smoke billowed up, the scent of burnt wool filling her nose and her lungs. She coughed and stared up at Neacal in shock. Everything had happened so fast.
"Are you burned?" he asked, helping her to stand.
She shook her head, though her ankle did sting. "Not badly. I thank you, m'laird."
"You were burned then?" His gaze bored into her, demanding the truth.
"Only a wee bit… on my ankle."
He glanced around. "Tavia?" he called out.
"Aye, m'laird." She waved a hand in the crowd.
"See to Mistress Douglas' burn. Use the library." His gaze swung to Anna again. "Follow Tavia."
"Very well."
The gawking people eased back, opening up a path across the great hall, and she moved toward the healer.
"You two, out!" Neacal commanded the two men who'd been fighting. "I will speak to you later. As punishment you will have extra work."
They mumbled their apologies as the guards escorted them outside.
"Come, Anna," Tavia said, taking her arm. "Let me look at your ankle. Does it pain you too greatly to walk?"
"Nay. I will be fine."
Soon they arrived in the library where Tavia lit three candles from the coals in the fireplace. "Have a seat."
