Page 67 of Highland Renegade
He was tempted to ignore her order. When had women suddenly started telling him what to do in his own castle? He’d taken only a step forward, when Lorelei grabbed his ankle, causing him to lurch sideways against the wall. He frowned at her. “Are ye trying to kill me, lass?”
“No.” She rose slowly, leaning against the opposite wall. “But from the sounds I heard out here, Emily would not want you in the room.”
That was the second time he’d been admonished. His frown deepened. Then he finally nodded. It did sound like the upheaval was still going on. After what seemed like yet a second eternity—and the sounds quieted—the door opened and Gwendolyn stepped out, her face grim. She put down her bag and handed him the glass.
“Hemlock.”
He stared at her. “Are ye sure?”
She gave him a look that instantly reduced him to a lad in knee breeches. “I recognize hemlock when I smell it.”
“I dinna mean—”
“Nae matter.” She waved off his apology. “Ye did the best thing possible, making her purge her insides.”
He breathed a silent prayer of thanks. “She will be all right then?”
“She should be. I gave her mashed mandrake root to make sure her belly was empty. I left another dose to clean her insides.” She eyed Lorelei. “Ye and your sister need to make sure she drinks warm water with salt every hour as well… ’Twill make her retch again, but ’tis the only way to make sure all the poison is gone.” She picked up her bag. “I will come by tomorrow.”
He turned to the door after the healer left, but Lorelei stopped him once more. “You cannot think Emily wants to see you in her condition?” She ignored his glower and instead patted his cheek as though he were a bairn. “Juliana and I will take care of her. That is what sisters are for.”
With that, she slipped through the door, leaving him standing in the hallway. He sighed and turned away. Emily’s sisters stuck together like his brothers did. That made his thoughts turn to Devon. He hoped his brother had nothing to do with this, but he could not deny that Devon hated the English…and he’d resented Isobel as well.
The vivid dream that Emily had about the man with a knifemighthave just been a nightmare based on Fiona’s stories. The alcohol in the teacouldhave been a coincidence. It was possible the board on the steps had accidently come loose. But he couldn’t deny this fourth incident. Someone was trying to kill Emily.
“I suppose ye are going to blame me for the poison.” Devon made the statement without much inflection as he looked at his brothers gathered in the library once more, late that afternoon. “I mean, who else is there?”
The question definitely held a note of sarcasm. Ian winced. The last thing he wanted to do was think Devon actually capable of murdering a woman. From the looks on the faces of his other brothers—and Fiona’s—he knew they felt the same. Their very silence spoke volumes. Evidently, Devon sensed it, too. He slumped in his chair.
“Go ahead and call the magistrate then.”
“We’ll nae be calling the magistrate,” Ian replied. “And we are nae accusing ye.”
Devon raised an eyebrow but didn’t answer.
“We aren’t,” Carr said quietly, “but we need to get to the bottom of this.”
“True,” Alasdair said. “Ian’s questioned the servants—”
“Aye,” Ian interrupted. “Effie said she turned down the covers on the bed about half past eight o’clock, but she did nae leave wine or marzipan. The other maids were busy in the kitchen and Hall. They all vouched for one another.”
Rory gave him a skeptical glance. “Of course they would.”
“But would they lie?” Carr asked. “Especially to Ian?”
“That is a point,” Alasdair said. “Any MacGregor kens lying to the laird would mean banishment.”
“Once upon a time, it would have,” Rory retorted. “But ye do remember the English took away a laird’s power?”
“But nae loyalty,” Alasdair said. “The English may assert their laws, but it doesna stop any clan from keeping to our old ways.”
Fiona spoke up. “What if it was nae a maid?”
“Hamish said the men were all accounted for,” Ian replied.
“It might nae have been a servant, though. The Great Hall was full.”
Rory smirked. “I doubt one of our clansmen would have sneaked upstairs with wine and marzipan.”
