Page 56 of The Highlander's Temporary Bride
“She is suspected of poisonin’ ye.”
Grant heard the words, but they made no sense to him until he met his mother’s gaze.
There were dark circles under her eyes. Her hair was hastily swept up, and she was wearing a somber gray gown. He noted the dirt on her hands and dust on her boots.
“Ye put her in the dungeons?” Grant boomed, and everyone flinched. “I shall have yer head, McWirthe.”
“It wasnae me, Me Laird,” McWirthe spoke steadily. “I was against it.”
“’Twas Reuben,” Brenda interjected.
Grant’s entire body went cold, then hot. He swung his legs over the bed and stood up, not caring that he was in nothing but his drawers.
Protests erupted around the healing chambers. Kyla shouted at him to get his arse back in bed, but he ignored all of them. He grabbed a pair of trews, shoved his legs into them, and then grabbed his sword.
He rounded on the folk in the room, and they all fell back, all silent as they beheld the Devil of Banrose.
“Where is me braither?”
CHAPTER 23
Grant kickedopen his study door, his bare foot smarting at the impact. The sound jolted Reuben out of a nap. He’d been lounging in Grant’s chair with his boots up on the desk, and his mouth dropped open as he beheld his older brother.
“Ye’re alive,” he breathed, gripping his heaving chest. “I cannae believe it. Is Kyla a witch?”
He scrambled up to his feet as Grant approached, offering him a smile.
“What are ye doin’?” He blinked. “Where’s yer shirt?”
“I’ve come to find out what the hell ye did,” Grant growled, leveling his sword at his brother.
“What?” Reuben sputtered, fear flickering in his eyes. He held up his hands and eased out from behind the desk. “Are ye sureye’re quite all right, Braither? Perhaps ye should still be abed. It was?—”
“Ye threw Emma in the dungeons,” Grant tried to roar, but it came out raspy and broken.
For a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of revulsion mixed with pity in Reuben’s eyes. His rage flared red-hot again, and he contemplated driving his blade straight through the smirking bastard’s chest.
Perhaps Reuben hadn’t pretended to survive their father’s cruelty by going along with it. Perhaps he’d been molded by it.
Even Brenda worried, Grant knew this. He’d overheard conversations between his mother and his aunts, whispered worries about Reuben’s darker tendencies, strange stories from the village—fights and brawls and weeping ladies. But there was never any proof, and Reuben seemed too foppish, too lazy for such things. And Grant had always felt sympathy toward him, for his brother had to live under the terrible shadow of their father.
“Is that what this is about?” Reuben asked, his lip curling. “Ye are that upset about theSassenach? What, d’ye want to bed her that badly?”
“Watch yer tongue, lad,” Grant said in a harsh voice, one that resonated with their father’s whip-like intensity, and it seemed to startle them both.
“Ye do, that much is clear,” Reuben said. “Ye want her so bad that ye’d look past her poisonin’ ye?—”
“She didnae do any such thing,” Grant snapped. “Ye are such a bloody fool, Reuben, ye ken that? Think—if she had done such a thing, why nae flee? Or why do it at all? What purpose does it serve?”
“Savin’ her friend from ye,” Reuben spat, his fists clenched and his pale face awash with fury. “I read her bloody letters. She cannae be trusted.”
Grant stared at him for a moment and then barked out a laugh. “Christ, ye are so thick. Even if I were to die, her friend would just be married off to another laird. There is nay escapin’ the Queen’s Edict by murderin’ a laird. And it’s quite a leap, to go from sewin’ parties and balls and music and gardenin’ tomurder.”
Reuben’s mouth had been opening and closing, but then he lifted a finger in triumph. “Aye, that’s it, too. The healers were babblin’ about her gifts with plants. She was in the gardens—she could’ve found it there.”
“The healers dinnae grow Skulleyes,” Grant hissed and shook his head, shoving a hand through his hair. “They only grow in the decay of conifer trees, in cold and wet environments. So, mountain streams.”
“Or the loch.”
