Page 68 of Highland Renegade
Fiona narrowed her eyes at him. “Doona act like I’m daft. The maids stay on the top floor. Would anyone question a man walking out with wine and sweets to tryst with one of them?”
“Hmmm.” Carr turned to Ian. “Mayhap we should question Maggie as to whether one of the maids has a lover?”
“She would probably box my ears.” Ian gave him a grim look. “Besides, Emily said she arrived at her chamber just past nine o’clock. The maids would still have been busy cleaning up for at least another hour. The wine had to have been left in the thirty minutes after Effie was in the room and Emily got there.” He shook his head. “Any supposed swain leaving that early for a tumble—carrying wine and a plate—would have been noticed.”
Devon stirred. “So it comes back to me then.”
Ian frowned at him. “Nae one is saying that.”
“Ye doona have to. My feelings about Sassenachs are well known to all.” Devon shrugged. “Nae one would question one of us carrying a glass of wine and a plate of marzipan away. And…” He grimaced slightly. “Nae one can account for my whereabouts.”
“Ye always go straight to your bedchamber.” His brother liked to read, a fact Ian had discovered one night when he’d barged in without knocking. Devon’s interest was the classics, no less, which was why he tended to keep his hobby a secret. Ian also suspected it was a form of escape. He’d never shared the information. And now, Devon was giving him a knowing look.
“I canna prove it.”
“Well, ye doona have to,” Rory said. “At least, nae to us. We are family.”
And they were, Ian thought. But so were Emily and her sisters. He didn’t want to have to make a choice between them. It was his responsibility, now, to protect both.
But could he?
…
Emily startled at the knock on her door, praying that it would not be Ian. Even though the room had been cleaned, the floor scrubbed and fresh sheets put on the bed, she wasn’t ready to face him. She’d spent most of the afternoon forcing herself to swallow the mashed mandrake and drink that horrible concoction of warm, salty water. Consequently, she’d also spent much of her time hovering over the chamber pot.
“I will see who it is.” Lorelei rose from her chair.
Juliana gave Emily a quick look, evidently reading her thoughts. “Do not let any man in.”
But it was Fiona at the door, holding a cup of broth. “Gwendolyn said ye are nae to eat anything for twenty-four hours, but I thought ye could use this.”
Emily accepted the warm cup eagerly. She felt weak as a kitten after her ordeal, to say nothing of the purging. She started to take a sip, but Juliana stayed her hand.
“Did you pour this yourself?” she asked Fiona.
“Aye. There is mutton stew for tonight. I stirred the pot and scooped the liquid out myself.” She drew her lips into a tight line. “If there is poison in that, we will all be eating it.”
Juliana relaxed her hold. “I just wanted to make sure.”
“I doona blame ye,” Fiona answered. “Ian has given orders anything Emily eats has to be tasted by someone else first.”
Emily stared at her. “Does he think that is really necessary?”
“I just came from a meeting with my brothers,” she answered. “Until we find out who the culprit is, Ian is nae taking any chances.”
Juliana studied her, then opened her mouth to speak and closed it again. She furrowed her brows.
“I think I ken what ye want to ask.” Fiona looked from her to Emily, then back. “Ye are thinking Devon may be a suspect.”
“Maybe?”
“Juliana!” Emily exclaimed, nearly spilling her broth. “Fiona is his sister!”
“I know, but…” Juliana hesitated, then lifted her chin. “I am sorry, but we all know Devon hates us. Who else—”
“Devon said the same thing himself,” Fiona broke in. “And he has nae excuse for his whereabouts.” She looked at each of them. “I canna believe my brother would stoop to murder.”
“Of course you cannot,” Lorelei said. “I would not believe anyone who accused my sisters of a crime, either.”
