Page 84 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
“I’ll find her!”
“And Mrs. Bryant! Hurry!”
The sound of Ryder’s heavy footsteps in the corridor was reassuring, but Damon wondered where in the world Smith was. Moments later, the hidden door flew open.
“Ryd—” he began, but his eyes didn’t meet his man’s familiar blue eyes or even Smith’s grey eyes. These eyes were brown.
Ariah stood in the doorway, breathless, her hands trembling at her sides. Her lips were parted as if she meant to speak, but no words came out. Damon’s blood ran cold, then blazed hot as rage overtook his senses. His arms instinctively tightened around Lilith’s lifeless form.
“Ye,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “What have ye done?”
Ariah took a half-step forward, raising her hands in protest. “I-I didnae mean?—”
“Didnae mean?!” His roar shook the very walls of the chamber. “She is barely clingin’ to life! Ye poisoned her!”
Terror flashed across Ariah’s face, but she quickly masked it with something else—desperation, defiance, perhaps even guilt.
“I only wanted—It was just supposed to—Christ above, is she… Is she…?” she stammered, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Supposed to what, Ariah? To make her suffer? To take her from me? Did ye wish for her to die? What did ye give her?!”
“I dinnae ken. It was yellow with purple veins and hairy leaves. I?—”
Damon surged forward, Lilith balanced in his arms. His movements were so quick that Ariah stumbled back onto the threshold.
“Ye poisoned yer best friend! Ye poisoned me wife! Ye’ve killed her!”
“It was only supposed to make her weak!” she cried out. “I swear it! I didnae mean for?—”
“Ye should have poisonedme—Ryder!” Damon bellowed.
His second-in-command materialized in the doorway, his expression grim.
“Take her to the dungeons. Now.”
Ariah’s eyes widened in horror. “No! Please, Da?—”
“I am yer Laird, Ariah Morris! I’m nae yer friend,” Damon snapped, his eyes wild with deadly rage.
“Me Laird, I-I swear, I didnae?—”
Ryder seized her by the arms. “Smith is at the healer’s chambers, Me Laird,” he said, before dragging Ariah out of the room, her pleading shrieks fading into the distance.
Damon barely noticed. His focus was on Lilith, his heart pounding with the unbearable agony of her stillness.
“Hold on, love. Just hold on. I’ve got ye,” he murmured against her hair before rising with her in his arms, his strides unrelenting as he carried her to the healer’s chambers.
Mrs. Bryant’s quarters were dimly lit by a dozen candles, their glow bathing the stone walls. The healer worked swiftly on Smith—the housekeeper’s head was split open. The instant both of them saw their Laird with Lilith limp in his arms, they jumped up to meet him at the door.
“What happened?”
“Poison,” Damon said quickly.
“Do ye ken which?”
“Only yellow with purple?—”
“Veins?” Mrs. Bryant finished expertly and started checking Lilith’s pulse, fingertips, lips, and eyes.
