Page 85 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
“Set her here,” Smith pointed to the table, and Damon set her down carefully.
The healer’s hands were sure and steady despite her advanced age. Smith, whose temple was bandaged tight, acted as Mrs. Bryant’s aide.
Damon hovered at Lilith’s side, his fingers curling into her skirts, his knuckles white.
Mrs. Bryant clicked her tongue. “She’s been given a large dose, Me Laird. I think I have enough of what I need to counteract the effects.”
She got to work making the antidote without another word.
“Apologies, Me Laird. I was?—”
“Nay, ye were caught up in this as well, Smith. Are ye well?”
“I’m fine, Me Laird…” Smith trailed off, obviously disappointed in herself.
“She was lucky,” Mrs. Bryant murmured as she came back and dabbed a cloth against Lilith’s damp forehead.
Smith stepped in seamlessly as the healer turned away again and brought the antidote.
“They poisoned her with the aim to weaken her, nae to kill her outright.” Damon repeated Ariah’s pleading words, even though he didn’t believe them.
“If ye hadnae gotten her here when ye did, Me Laird…” Mrs. Bryant trailed off, but the words hung heavy in the air.
Damon swallowed hard. The weight of what he had nearly lost bore down on him. His hand found Lilith’s, pressing her cold fingers between his palms.
“She will recover?”
Mrs. Bryant nodded. “With rest and care, aye. But she’ll be weak for some time. Nay sudden movements, nay stress.”
Damon barely heard her. His thumb traced slow circles along Lilith’s knuckles, his chest tightening at the unnatural pallor of her skin.
Hours passed before Ryder finally entered the chambers, his expression dark. Damon hadn’t moved from his spot at Lilith’s bedside. He barely acknowledged Ryder until the man spoke.
“We questioned Ariah,” he began, after Mrs. Bryant and Smith left the surgery.
Damon’s head snapped up, his jaw tight. “And?”
Ryder exhaled, crossing his arms over his chest. “She gave nothin’ of use. She swears she didnae mean to do it.”
Damon snorted, his grip on Lilith’s hand tightening. “She is a fool.”
“Aye,” Ryder agreed. “But we both ken that she couldnae have gotten her hands on such a poison without help.”
Dread coiled in Damon’s gut. “Ye think she had an accomplice.”
“Aye. And I think ye ken who it is, Me Laird.”
Damon stiffened.
Tristan.
The thought of the man he had trusted, had allowed to remain his inner circle, sent a fresh wave of fury through him.
“Send for him,” he ordered, his voice like steel.
Ryder hesitated. “That may be a problem, Me Laird. He left for Glasgow directly after the council meeting. Clan business, supposedly.”
Damon’s eyes narrowed. “Clan business?”
