Dangerous Pride (49 page)

The old healer hesitated, choosing her words carefully in deference to the young laird’s obvious distress.  “It depends on what she was given, an’ how much.  ‘Tis is a good thing the lass was sick, for she might be rid of most of the poison.  We will no’ ken for sure for some time.  If she is still alive in the morn, there is a good chance she will recover.  It’s up to yer lady now,” she added, her eyes misting at the sight of the laird clutching his wife’s delicate hand.

Lachlan dropped Catriona’s hand like he had been burned, turning around abruptly to face the healer.  “Surely you do no’ mean to tell me my wife might die,” he said, his words more an accusation than a question.  The healer looked at him directly, her eyebrows raised at this display of pain and temper.

Gently, the dowager stepped forward, laying a calming hand on Lachlan’s arm.  “Son, Bertie has seen to the lass.  All we can do now is wait, and see that she remains comfortable.”

Lachlan released his breath in a heavy sigh, apologizing under his breath as he turned to look back at his wife.  “She is no’ in pain, then?” he asked quietly, unable to meet the healer’s gaze.

“She is no’.”

Lachlan shook his head to clear his thoughts, then brought a chair to the side of the bed.  Leaning forward, he again grasped Catriona’s hand in his own.  “We wait, then,” he said finally, his gaze never leaving his wife.

“And we pray,” his mother added, giving voice to the fear that stalked them all.

###

In the hours that followed, Lachlan never left his wife’s side for more than a few minutes.  Rory was given the task of finding out who’d had access to any food or drink that Catriona had consumed.  Lachlan questioned Annella thoroughly, until the young woman was again in tears, too distraught to reveal anything of any value.

The longer Catriona remained asleep, the more the healer became convinced the lass had been poisoned deliberately.  No one else in the keep had fallen ill, which ruled out an accidental poisoning from food or drink.  She explained to Lachlan that she believed Catriona had been given a lethal dose of a sleeping drought, probably in wine or other drink she had consumed a short time before she fell ill.  Because the lass had become sick, she had not succumbed to the full power of the poison.  Still, the healer cautioned Lachlan that Catriona was not yet out of danger.  If the poison had been strong enough – and if the lass had consumed enough – it was possible she might never awaken.

When the sun finally set, Lachlan was left alone with his wife.  The dowager and Annella had been sent to their own rooms, both too overcome with worry for Catriona to be of any use.  The healer, clearly exhausted from the time she had spent caring for the lass, had been given a room down the hall so that she could rest until she was needed again.

Fearing that his wife’s safety might still be in danger, Lachlan had ordered two guards stationed outside of their chamber, and had tripled the number of warriors on duty throughout the inner bailey.  The guards who watched near the portcullis were given stern instructions not to admit anyone to the keep without the permission of either Lachlan or his chief man-at-arms.

Early in the evening, Lachlan sent a runner to Boyne Castle with word of his wife’s illness.  While he doubted the Earl would trouble himself to make the journey to Tolquhon, he knew her brother Iain would want to be there with her.  It was near dawn before Iain made his way quietly into the chamber, his face ashen as he walked to his sister’s side.

“How is she fairing?” he asked Lachlan quietly, startled at his friend’s haggard appearance and his red-rimmed eyes.  Catriona lay still as death, and it was only the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest beneath the covers that convinced Iain she still lived.

“There has been no change,” Lachlan replied, rising to his feet and motioning for Iain to join him across the room.

“What in the hell happened to her?” Iain demanded, furious that his sister’s life should hang so tenuously in the balance.

“The healer thinks she has been poisoned.”

“What do you think?”

“I’ve yet to find any proof of it.  But it is the only logical explanation.”  Quietly, Lachlan explained the circumstances under which Catriona had fallen ill.  “I canna think of anyone who would want to kill her.  I canna imagine even Leslie would attempt such a thing.  She is only of use to him alive.”

Iain nodded his agreement.  “There would be no reason for him to harm her.”  A flash of anger crossed Iain’s dark features as he shifted his gaze back to his sister.  After a long moment, he turned and coldly studied his brother-in-law.  “You should have taken better care of her.  If you had been more careful, this would no’ have happened.”

Lachlan reacted instinctively, his body tensing as he clenched his fists, stepping closer to his brother-by-marriage.  “How dare you question the care I take with my wife?” he demanded, furious beyond reason with the accusations.  “You ken verra well that I value her life above my own – above all else!”

“How would I ken that?  You two run so hot and cold I can hardly keep track of where you stand with each other.”

“What happens between myself and my wife is none of yer business, Iain,” Lachlan warned as he took another step closer.

The sound of the door creaking open drew both men’s attention away from their argument.  Lachlan was nearly blinded by his fury when Bertie pushed her way slowly into the room, leaning heavily on the wooden walking stick that was her constant companion.  “You lads keep yer voices down,” she scolded as she made her way across the room to the bed.  “The lass needs her rest.”

Mumbling an apology to the old woman, Lachlan motioned to the chairs at the side of the room.  Iain followed as Lachlan took a seat, rubbing his eyes as he settled back into the chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him.  “I beg yer pardon, Lachlan,” Iain said as he settled himself, feeling a wave of guilt again as he took in his friend’s exhausted, disheveled appearance.  “I did no’ mean to insult you.  I am just worried about Catriona, is all.”

“I understand, Iain,” Lachlan replied, waving off his friend’s apology.  “I ken the worry you feel, for I share it.”

“Do you believe she was poisoned?”

“Aye, I do, and I am more convinced of it as time passes.”

“You do no’ think it was Leslie, do you?”

“I can think of no one else who has any grudge against yer sister.  Still, he would have naught to gain from her death.”

“We have no’ had any sign of the man in several weeks,” Iain replied, his expression thoughtful.  “Do you think it possible he has someone in yer keep who might be helping him?”

“I do no’ ken what to think, Iain,” Lachlan said, his voice weary.  “I can think of naught but Catriona right now.  The rest will hold until she’s better.”

Iain nodded his understanding.  “I gave yer message to my da, but it’s no surprise that he did no’ chose to come himself.”

Lachlan had begun to reply when the healer’s muttered curse drew his attention to the other side of the chamber.  Leaping to his feet, he crossed the room in an instant.  “What is it, Bertie?” he demanded.  “Is she waking up?”

The old healer shook her head, an expression of sadness on her face as she shifted her red-rimmed eyes from Lachlan to Iain.  “Send for the lady’s maid, lad.  And once ye’ve done that, send one of the servin’ lasses up with fresh linen and warm water.”

With a startled nod, Iain darted from the room, anxious to comply with the healer’s orders.  Lachlan turned back to look at Bertie, who was leaning over the bed, whispering soothing words to Catriona while she began to strip the linen from the bed.  Frantic, Lachlan reached out to grasp her hand, stopping her from her task.  “Bertie, I must ken what is going on.  Is she not waking from the poison?” he pleaded.

Again, Bertie shook her head, her eyes sympathetic as she met Lachlan’s panicked gaze.  “She sleeps still, an’ for now, we should be grateful.”  The old woman paused, covering Lachlan’s hand with her own. “She’s losin’ the babe, laird, and it is probably for the best she does no’ ken it.”

Gently, the healer pulled from Lachlan’s grasp, and returned to the task of stripping the bedding.  “A babe?” Lachlan repeated woodenly as he staggered back from the bed.

“There will be others, laird, if the lass recovers.  For now, it is best ye leave.  This is no place for a mon.”

With a final glance at his wife, Lachlan turned and slowly made his way from the room.  Annella burst in through the doorway just as he was leaving, but he heard not a word she said.  Instead, he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other until he had reached his study.

Catriona had said nothing about a child.  Was it possible she had been trying to keep this from him?  Could she have been displeased with the coming babe, so much so that she refused to tell him of its very existence?

As he poured himself a generous whiskey with shaking hands, he realized that he was losing more than he had even realized he had.

###

It was several hours before Lachlan was able to return to his bedchamber.  He and Iain had consoled each other in his study, each trying to make sense of the loss and fear they both felt.  By the time they had finished the first bottle of whiskey, Lachlan had sent servants to the room several times to check on how his wife faired.  Each time the messengers returned, they had given the same response – nothing had changed.

When Lachlan was finally given permission to see his wife, he didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.  Despite all the whiskey he’d consumed, he felt completely alert.  As he walked into the room, he saw the healer sitting beside Catriona’s bed.  She looked up from her mending when she heard his footsteps.  Annella and his mother sat near the fire as they too struggled to pass the time with needlework.  “Any change?” he asked Bertie, his voice low and uncertain.

“Naught of note, laird,” she replied as she took his measure.  Apparently she was satisfied that he was genuinely concerned about his wife, for this time, she volunteered more information.  “The lass has stirred a wee bit in the past hour or two, an’ that is a good sign.  If she has her wits when she wakes, all may yet be well.”

Lachlan felt a wave of relief as he thanked the healer.  Once he had gained permission to stay, he’d perched his weight on the edge of the bed, gently taking Catriona’s hand in his own.  She was even more pale than before, if that was possible, and she still appeared to be lost to a deep sleep.  Leaning over, he brushed a lock of hair from off her forehead, whispering to her that he was there, with her, and that all would be well.

As the evening drew on, Annella and the dowager each left the room, offering Lachlan their support, should he need it.  After a time Lachlan sent Bertie to the kitchen for a bite to eat, bidding her to rest in her room for a while.  One he was alone with his wife, he stretched his long legs out on the bed, curling his body around Catriona’s sleeping form.  With an arm tucked around her waist, he lay back on the bed to rest away the effects of the whiskey.

The sun was at a midpoint in the sky when Lachlan finally stirred.  He’d had a troubled rest, and he awoke with a pounding headache.  Sitting up on the bed, he slowly massaged away the tension in his temples, anxious to ease the pounding ache that throbbed more intensely with every beat of his heart.  When the pain had lessened to a dull roar, he turned to look down at his sleeping wife.  Two emerald eyes stared back at him from Catriona’s colorless, drawn face.  “I did no’ ken when you would wake,” she said, a wan smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. “From the smell of you, it was quite the night.”

Lachlan blinked several times before he was convinced that he had not imagined her response.  Muttering a prayer of thanks, he fell back against the covers, pulling his wife into his arms and drawing her close.  His eyes shimmering with unshed tears, he struggled to control the emotion in his voice.  “Have you been awake long yerself?” he asked finally, pausing to kiss her curls as he drew her even closer.

“Nay.”

Lachlan slowly pulled back from her, and began to throw his legs over the edge of the bed.  “I should go tell Bertie yer awake.”

“Please, don’t.  Give us a few minutes alone.  Please?”

He nodded his agreement, unable to deny her anything as he lay down, drawing her back into his arms.  “Do ye ken what happened, then, lass?”

She shook her head as she nestled into his chest, breathing deeply of his masculine, whiskey-tinged scent.  “I feel as if I fell off a horse and was trampled to within an inch of my life,” she admitted.  “The last thing I remember was being in the cellar with Annella.  We were checking the supplies, weeding out the bad and storing the good.  The next thing I remember is waking up here with you.”

Lachlan knew better than to keep anything from Catriona.  She would be too stubborn to rest unless she had the full story.  “Do you want to ken the rest now, or would you rather wait until you feel stronger?”

“Now, please.”

Lachlan swallowed nervously, unsure where to begin the story, or what reaction she might have.  “Are you sure you do no’ want to see the healer first?”

“Lachlan,” she warned, her expression determined beneath the pain and fatigue.  “Tell me.”

Lachlan nodded his agreement, resting his back against the head of the bed as he drew her down onto his chest.  “You took ill in the cellar, lass, and the lads had to carry you up to the room.  Bertie does no’ ken for sure what happened, but she suspects you may have been poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Catriona repeated, wincing as she pushed herself up to a sitting position, so she could gauge her husband’s reaction.  “Why would anyone want to poison me?”

“We do no’ ken the answer yet, but I will no’ rest until I have one.  The healer is no’ convinced it was poisoning, but it is the best guess we have.”

Slowly, Catriona lay back on the pillows, overcome with exhaustion as she stared vacantly at the ceiling above her.  The thought that anyone could despise her enough to want to end her life was too terrible to think on for long.  “Am I going to be all right then?” she asked finally, blinking back the tears that filled her green eyes.