Aiden could see that his brother wanted to go to Ana, to hold her, but he did not. He waited, as impatient as Aiden, for the healing to take its course.
Finally, after a long, unbearable length of time, Ana dropped both hands to her sides. She appeared utterly drained. Dark circles had formed under her eyes, and Aiden swore she’d gotten thinner in the hour or so she’d taken to complete the healing.
Niall rushed forward and dropped a blanket over Ana’s shoulders. Displaying more tenderness than Aiden had ever seen, Niall scooped the redheaded healer into his lap and sat with her before the fire, her body cradled against his chest.
“Is it done?” Aiden asked hoarsely.
Isabail still had no color, and he feared the worst.
“Aye,” murmured Ana from the depths of Niall’s arms. “I’ve done all that I can do.”
“Will she awaken?” he asked brusquely.
“I believe so. Let her rest.”
The promise of a happy resolution seemed weak, but Aiden chose to believe in it. He gathered Isabail and her blankets into his arms and strode toward his chamber. Just before he left the close, he called back to his brother, “The door to the tomb is open. Seal it as soon as you’re able.”
* * *
Isabail awoke with a scream on her lips.
“Hush,” said a familiar deep voice that vibrated against her cheek. MacCurran. “You are safe.”
Midafternoon sunlight poured into the chamber through an open-shuttered window, creating a thick stream of golden air, which highlighted every mote of dust in the air. The dark void was gone, and the steady beat of MacCurran’s heart had replaced the unbearable silence.
Safe.
Cocooned in his embrace, supported by the well-stuffed contours of his down-filled mattress, Isabail could easily believe her hours in the tomb had simply been a dreadful nightmare. Except her throat was sore from screaming and her fingers throbbed from tearing at the granite slab.
“You found me,” she whispered.
“Aye.”
“How?”
“What possessed you to venture into the tunnels alone?” he asked.
Isabail’s cheeks flushed with guilt. How could she tell him she’d been seeking evidence that he was a liar and a murderer? True, she’d done it more for Daniel than to answer any of her lingering doubts, but it was still betrayal. “I was curious about the winch. I spied it while looking for spices and wondered what it was for.”
“Curiosity drove you from your bed in the middle of the night?”
Here at least, she could be honest. “I knew you would be angry if I ventured into the tunnels again, so I did it when I knew you were gone.”
“Foolish lass.”
Indeed. The last thing she remembered from her ordeal was the tight feeling of airlessness in her chest and a dizzy lightness in her head that made it difficult to think. She had been certain she was drawing her last breath.
“Who is buried in the tomb?”
“That’s not important.”
“A king or a prince of some sort, judging by the crown,” she guessed, unwilling to let the subject die. She’d spent a lot of time wondering whom she would be buried with. “A Pictish king, if the symbols on the door are to be believed.”
He tipped her head to look in her eyes. “What do you know of Pictish kings?”
“Lochurkie was once owned by the Picts. There are standing stones etched with their symbols all over the land.” She bit her lip. “John was curious about them and told me stories of the Painted Ones. Savages, he said, who once roamed the land, hunting and slaying the Gaels at will.”
He grunted. “Your brother knew naught of what he spoke.”
