Page 45 of Highlander's Captive Bride
Daisy got up and walked him to the door. “Good night, Bellamy,” she said.
They embraced and kissed lightly before he opened the door.
“Good night, bonny lass. Sleep tight, for tomorrow, there’s much to do.”
* * *
Bellamy strode through the empty, silent castle halls until he came to his chamber on the first floor. He went inside. As always, lamps had been lit for his convenience, and a fire burned low in the grate. The room was pleasantly warm, so he stripped off his clothes and threw them on the floor before pouring himself a generous dram of whisky and sipping it, standing in front of the fire, buck naked.
He thought about washing but rapidly dismissed the idea. He could still smell Daisy’s scent all over him, and he was loath to wash it off. The dreamlike time they had just spent together was unlike anything he had ever experienced with a woman. He wanted to preserve it, for one day soon, she would be gone, and they would likely never meet again. That, he knew, was going to hurt as badly as losing Bridie.
But, for now, he had important things to consider, so he locked away their secret hours in a compartment in the deepest recesses of his heart and focused on the matter at hand. He needed nothing to help keep him awake, for he knew he would not sleep a wink for the remainder of the night. Nor did he wish to. He wanted to think.
The whisky on top of the wine Daisy had given him warmed his vitals, oiling the wheels of his mind as he plotted and planned how he was going to catch whoever had been torturing his daughter and repay them tenfold.
He downed his dram, then, taking the bottle with him, padded across to his bed—a huge, carved, mahogany construction his great-grandfather had made for himself and his wife many years ago. It was the place where Bellamy did some of his best thinking, which was exactly what he intended to do in the wee small hours before the new day began, and he went about putting his plan in motion.
He leaned back on his pillows, taking a long slug of whisky. “When I catch them, they’ll wish they’d never been born,” he muttered to himself through clenched teeth, his hand tightening around the whisky bottle, fervently wishing it was the culprit’s neck.
* * *
Early the next morning, Bellamy went straight to Elodie’s chambers. He sent Poppy off on an errand to the kitchens to bring back some hot, buttered bannocks for breakfast, which he intended to share with his daughter.
When the servant was gone, he checked the hallway for anyone who might be lurking. It was empty, so he shut the door firmly and returned to the bed, lying beside Elodie and putting his arms around her as they lay against the pillows.
“Now, me wee bonny lass, I have a secret to share with ye, and ye must swear nae to tell a soul. Nae Poppy and nae Nadia. ’Tis very important that ye keep it just between us and Daisy. D’ye understand?” he told her in a gentle, hushed tone.
“Aye, Da,” Elodie said, nodding and looking up at him, her expression half anxious, half excited. “I swear. What is the secret?”
“Well, this is goin’ to be a bit of a shock for ye, darlin’, but ye ken when ye were taken so bad last night?”
“Aye. ’T’was terrible, Da. I’m glad I cannae remember much of it, and I feel better this morning. I wish I could get better,” Elodie said plaintively.
Bellamy squeezed her gently in his arms. “Ye will. I guarantee it, hinny. Ye’ll nae have any more of those attacks. Ye’ll be as right as rain from now on,” he promised, his heart clenching with emotion.
She looked up at him quizzically. “Am I, Da? But how d’ye ken?”
“Because last night, when ye were taken so ill, Daisy found out what’s been causing ye to be sick all this time.”
Elodie wriggled around in his arms to face him, her little face a picture of surprise. “She did? What is it?”
Bellamy chose his words carefully before saying, “Somebody has been putting something nasty in the things ye eat and drink, lass. Something to make ye terribly sick.”
“Have they? Who? And why would they do that, Da? Do they nae like me?” Elodie asked, her face crinkling in confusion.
“Nay, ’t’was not that at all. They wanted to hurt ye because they kenned it would make me sad,” he explained. “By hurting ye, they were trying to hurt me.”
“Why, that’s a horrible thing to do!” Elodie exclaimed with childish outrage. “To make me so sick like that on purpose! Who was it, Da? I want to tell them off for doing such a mean thing to me.”
“Well, hinny, the thing is, ye see, we dinnae ken who’s been doing it. And that’s why I need yer help, so we can find out… and I can punish them,” he explained, a hard edge to his voice.
“Oh,” Elodie said, sounding disappointed. “But how can I help ye find out who it was? I’m just a wee lass.”
“A very clever wee lass,” Bellamy corrected, stoking her hair. “I have a plan, to trick them into showing themselves. And that’s what I need yer help with.”
“All right. I want to catch them. What d’ye want me to do?”
“I want ye to pretend ye’re still poorly. Very poorly.”
