After the torture and his father's death, he'd never thought to feel joy again. But now he knew he could, and he did every time she looked at him or touched him. And the kisses… saints, he thought each time he kissed her that he'd died and ascended to heaven.
Why would she not agree to marry him? He doubted it was because he was a chief and his clan might not approve. Though 'twas a good excuse, he sensed there was something else… something far worse which held her back. He'd seen it in her tear-filled eyes, felt it in the tension emanating off her. She possessed deep, dark secrets. Why would she not confide in him? Whatever it was, she'd said she did not want to anger him. Could it be something so terrible? Was she an outlaw? Had she killed someone? Was she on the run? His mind went wild with all the horrible possibilities.
He turned onto his back and sat up. 'Twas useless to try to sleep, as was often the case. His gaze traveled over the darkened tavern and up the stairs, then toward the entry door. He'd seen Korbin lock it, but what about the back door? If someone slipped in they could strike him a deadly blow before he even knew they were about.
When he arose, a pain shot down his leg from one of the old injuries. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the ache. The kitchen was dark. After lighting a candle from the glowing embers of the hearth, he ventured into the kitchen and found the back door locked too. At least he could rest a bit easier.
He returned to the bench and sat. Leaning his head against the back, he watched Anna's door at the top of the stairs. He hoped she'd bolted it to keep out any intruders. He couldn't help that he was overly vigilant, especially when it came to her.
Sweet, luscious Anna. What was he going to do about her? He should force her to return to Bearach with him. Whatever her past, he could protect her there. She was a good woman and he knew she wouldn't have done something heinous. If she'd killed a man, she'd probably had good reason. Mayhap some brute like Farquar had attacked her before and she'd killed him. If so, 'twas self-defense. Such bastards deserved what they got for abusing those weaker than themselves.
Could that be it? Neacal needed to ask her. Rising from the seat, he paced. He wanted to ask her now, but she was most likely asleep.
He shoved his hand through his hair and paced more.
"Neacal." Someone said in a loud whisper. He glanced up to find Anna at the top of the stairs.
Even though she was still fully dressed, awareness shot through him, stirring his blood. "Aye?"
"What are you doing?"
"Naught. Why?"
She glanced all around, then motioned to him. "Sleep up here, on the pallet in my room."
Hell, he shouldn't. But he could not decline the tempting offer. His heartbeat accelerated. After grabbing his things, he climbed the stairs. 'Twas his opportunity to ask her if she'd committed a crime and, if so, to let her know that didn't matter to him.
Once inside the room, he set his things aside and spread his bedroll on the pallet, but not too close to the hearth fire. He then turned to her. Even though he was curious about why she wanted him to return, he had more important questions. "Anna, I was wondering something."
"What is it?" She appeared hesitant and guarded.
He figured 'twould be best to simply get it out of the way. "Did you kill someone?"
"What?" she gasped, her eyes incredulous. "Nay. Why would you think such a thing?"
"Pray pardon. I meant no offense. But 'tis because of the way you're behaving. You're guarded, as if you hold a deep dark secret. And I thought if you'd committed some crime, like killing someone, you probably had good reason. Self-defense, mayhap."
She shook her head and clasped her hands tightly together. "I've killed no one."
What could it be then? "Stolen something?" he asked.
"Nay," she said firmly.
"God's teeth, Anna. Tell me. You can depend on me. I'll not turn you in. I'll protect you and hide you." Though he hated allowing her to see how vexed he was, he was losing patience with her. How could she be so stubborn?
She paced from one side of the small room to the other. "I regret allowing you in here."
Someone banged on the wall from the next room. "Stop your blathering! We be trying to sleep!" 'Twas a man's voice.
She jumped, then placed a hand over her mouth, her wide gaze darting to him. "Do you think he heard what you said?" she whispered softly.
Neacal shook his head, annoyance boring a hole through his vitals. He couldn't talk to her here. "Come back to Bearach with me," he said in a low tone.
"We've already talked about this. 'Tis time to sleep." She marched to the bed and lay down, fully dressed.
Aye, he was certain she was going to sleep. Ha. He shook his head, his frustration growing.
He lay down on the pallet and stared at the ceiling in the dim glow from the fireplace. Glancing at her, he found her lying still as a stone but she was not relaxed. He felt her tension, taut as a violin string ready to snap.
