Page 61 of Dark Side of the Laird
“We’ll lock her away,” I stated firmly.
Still he struggled, as though he wanted to say more.
“Water,” I said, and Agatha reached for a pewter mug, handing it to me.
I held the cup to his lips and Ewan drank a small sip, aspirating some of it and coughing violently. More blood sprayed onto his lips. “Slowly, Ewan,” I whispered.
He drank another few sips then laid his head back against the pillows, exhausted.
“The laird…” he murmured.
“Shh… We will get him.”
Again, Ewan shook his head. “She said… she said they…”
My heart skipped a beat. There was more that I needed to know. More to Isabella’s vicious attack than simply doing away with Logan’s second in command.
“They’ll kill him,” he finally managed to say.
“Who? The king?” I asked, desperate now for an answer.
Ewan nodded again. Isabella had confessed this to him as she thought he lay dying. There was every possibility she spoke the truth, wanting to gloat about her plans to someone who could do nothing but listen. My gut told me that she’d relayed the truth to Ewan. Which meant…
“Oh my God.” I staggered backward. My visions of Logan flooded my mind. I’d been right. They were true and he could be dead even now.
I wasn’t the only one shocked. The healer’s hands stilled and she glanced up at me, fear in her eyes. Agatha gasped and gripped tight to the side table as though she might fall.
“Rest now, Ewan. I will save the laird.”
Three sets of eyes looked at me as though I’d grown two additional heads, but I nodded, shoulders squared. Determined.
“I won’t let him die.” Whirling, I marched toward the door and flung it open. To the guard there, I said, “Ewan has spoken. Lady Isabella was his attacker. She plans to let our enemies within the walls and did confess to him that the king has plans to kill Logan.”
The guards’ eyes hardened as they shifted their glances between them.
“Ewan has issued orders for the lady to be remanded to the dungeon. Double the forces on the walls and get a party together to ride to Falkland Palace to bring home our laird.”
The guards nodded and three took their leave to go about the orders, and to send another guard up in case Isabella was found lurking about. The fourth remained behind to watch over Ewan’s chamber.
I bowed my head in thanks, then turned back to the room. “All will be well. It’s in the fates.”
I waited at the door until another guard arrived, not that I’d be much help in subduing an attacker should they try to gain entry, but if it were Isabella, I’d knock her out.
The guard arrived quickly, taking his post beside the door and I couldn’t help but ask, “Has she been taken?”
“Not yet, my lady.”
I frowned, and rushed to my room to dress. Adrenaline and anger fueling my body’s energy. I wanted to watch them lock her up. I wanted to see her behind bars. See her pockets emptied of any poison she might slip the guards. Isabella was not to be trusted a millimeter.
Leaving my chambers, I checked with the guards at Ewan’s door once more. No word yet. I raced down the stairs toward the great hall, finding a great many of the servants and clan folk gathered, worry etching their faces.
“All will be well,” I kept repeating, but my words offered little comfort. Their laird was gone and Ewan was badly injured.
Moments later we could all hear the bitch’s screams from a far corridor. They’d gotten her. I couldn’t help but hiss, “Yes!”
The sound of her anger made me smile. I rushed to the spot, pleased to see her trussed up like a pig. A guard walked in front of those who held her captive—perhaps to open the doors so those holding her didn’t have to let go. Two guards dragged her, her back to where they were headed, but she had to have known it was over. Must have given the guards some fight, too, for them to have tied her up, but then again, maybe not. The tall guard to her left, I recalled, was the brother of one of the poor guards she’d gotten drunk and was subsequently punished for getting drunk.
Isabella’s eyes landed on me, and she quieted, forcing all the guards to turn and see me standing there. Torchlight flickered on her face. Her lip curled cruelly as she watched me.
