Page 71 of The Highlander's Captured Bride
“Come, join me,” his uncle gestured, “I’m feeling lonely all by meself up here.”
The very thought galled him but he knew he had to act naturally or he would give himself away. He mounted the dais and took a seat, not ignoring that his uncle was back again in his father’s seat, at the head of the table. It felt wrong.
“Went for a ride, did ye?” Callum said while gesturing for a servant to come to them. “How was it? Ye was gone for a long time.”
Shrugging nonchalantly, Ethan sighed, “I just roamed the countryside, nothing took me fancy, so I laid down for a nap. Time slipped by me I suppose.”
A cup of water was placed before him and he nodded his thanks to the woman. He drank, trying to not let tell-tale gooseflesh erupt on his skin while feeling the trail of his uncle’s eyes over him. Now that he knew his Uncle was not as innocent as he seemed, a wary sensation settled inside him, as if he was constantly on the watch for a rabid dog to pounce. Placing the cup down he languidly rubbed the back of his neck. “I keep worrying about Faither.” He lied.
“Me too, nephew,” was his reply, then in a harder tone, his uncle added, “Which is why I will be nae relenting on O’Cain. Until he gives up where me brother is, he will nay be seeing the light of day.”
Irked, Ethan asked, “But Uncle, how could ye suspect him? He’s been here with us through it all, finding clues to who killed Finley. How could ye ken he is a part of all this trouble?”
He might have pushed too far as his uncle’s eyes narrowed, just as his hand tightened around his goblet. Then, the tension disappeared and the older man only smiled. He put the cup away then crossed his arms on the table, “Ye’re worried about Miss O’Cain. Dinnea ye deny it, I can see it plain across yer face. I give ye me word, she won’t come to any harm if her faither does what is right and tells me where me brother is.”
“Why dae ye ken he has that knowledge?” Ethan asked. “When I saw him at Ackwell, Faither wasnae with him.”
“Aye, but they left together so something must have happened when or if they truly parted ways,” his uncle added logically. “It’s simple, nephew, if he will just admit what he kens, all this will go away.”
Slumping in his seat, Ethan murmured, “And if it doesnae, what then?”
“Ye wouldnae object to me taking over the Lairdship, will ye?” His uncle asked kindly. “I have had so many improvements to this place but ye faither never took one of them into his decisions. In a year, I can make this place so prosperous, ye wouldnae believe it is the same place.”
The words were light, kindly and calm but Ethan felt a chill race down his spine. Staring at his uncle, he felt the chips begin to fall in place. He knew his uncle and father had many disagreements when it came to the lairdship, then, the village boys report about a tall, thin man asking him to write the note.
Then, his uncle disappeared before Miss O’Bachnon was found dead. Finley would have fought anyone who attacked him, but not those he knew and trusted. If O’Bachnon had only lured him outside and his uncle had given Finley the sleeping draught…
There was no hard evidence to support his suspicions but Ethan knew that he was staring Finley’s murderer in the eye. Cold, crippling fear began to ice his inside, but he never let the trepidation for showing on his face. As the realizations settled, he decided, to drop any respect he had for this man that was once his uncle. Now he was just Callum.
He reached for his cup but it was empty.
“What are we eating?”
“I was told roasted fish and steamed down with carrots and leeks,” his uncle replied. “A new cook said she had a hard time working the ovens so the bread is currently baking. Why dinnae we drink some wine instead of this plain water.” He called a servant over and requested the wine.
Ethan was about to refuse but he did not want to do anything to draw his uncle’s suspicion, he shrugged, “I suppose.”
When the woman came with the wine and filled the goblets, Ethan tried to limit his sips or not drink at all as he needed to be clear-headed after this, but he still drank some. When the trenchers of food came, he gladly went to eat than drink.
The conversation was stifled from his end as he took care to have his mouth filled, but his uncle needed no prompting to begin his monologue on how he was going to change how the people went about business, and how he was going to incorporate technology from the city to make their farming more efficient.
A servant came to take their cups to refill them, he swallowed over his last morsel. The cups were deposited with his uncle’s first then his. His large gulp had him coughing as he tasted…the same sweet, tart taste of mandragora.
His eyes fluttered and his fingers began to tremble as he rested the cup back on the table. He swallowed again, but then, a curious aftertaste was in his mouth. It was…the wine? As he stared at the cup, his vision began to blur. He grabbed at the table as the realization came to him—his wine had been laced with the draught. Those tiny sips had added up enough to start to drug him.
“Nephew?” his uncle asked concernedly. “Are ye all right?”
Bastard, ye’re the son of the Devil, acting so concerned for me.Drugging me, kenning I’m already drunk from the wine.
His body felt heavy and his eyes were dimming more. Though the fog in his head, he heard his uncle call for men to help him. “He’s drunk. Carry him to—” his mind blurred with those words and soon all he saw was black.
* * *
When he woke, he was upright and his body felt weighted down with lead. The room he was in was dim and when he tried to move, he found his arms tied to the chair with rope. When his eyes adjusted to the dimness, they laid on Mister O’Cain, restrained as he was.
No one else was in the room and as he looked around, he realized—with relief—it was not in the depths of the castle. He could see a faint light coming through the thick drapes but nothing much was around them, just the drapes, him, Mister O’Cain, and the cold floor. His traitorous uncle was not there and he could hear noises coming through the floor.
Are we over the great hall?
