His Bonnie Bride

by Hannah Howell

  "But I did it all for ye. I kenned we couldnae be together whilst he lived," she screamed, then gasped in horror when she realized what she had said. "Nay."

  "It was in the potion, was it not?" Storm asked quietly.

  "Nay! I did naught! Ye have got me all confused. I ken not what I be saying."

  "Ye ken right enough," came a voice from the bed, and Colin sat up to glare at his wife, shocking his sons into open-mouthed speechlessness and sending Janet one step closer to madness.

  "Nay, nay, ye are dead. No man could have survived that last dose I gave ye," Janet moaned as she stepped further away from the bed, her eyes wide with horror. "Ye be haunting me, that be all."

  "He is not dead, Janet. He did not drink your last potion, the one that was so strong."

  "Ye have tricked me," she hissed, her wild eyes fixing upon Storm. "Ye bitch! Sassanach whore!"

  Before anyone could react, Janet pulled a dagger from a concealed pocket in her skirts. She lunged at an unsuspecting Storm, who had turned to help arrange the pillows behind Colin. Storm had no time to fully react to the cries of warning. With a snarl, Janet plunged her knife into Storm's slim shoulder. She had aimed for Storm's back, but Storm had already begun to turn, ruining her aim. Storm felt a flash of pain strong enough to make her swoon and collapsed upon Colin. Before Janet could try a second time, Malcolm swung at her with the fireplace poker. Janet fell to the floor with hardly a whimper, blood seeping from a wound at her temple.

  "Is she dead?" Colin asked, holding on to Storm, trying to staunch her wound's bleeding with his own bed linen. "A neat swing, Malcolm. Could have been a bit quicker, though."

  "She's dead," Iain said as he rose from examining Janet.

  "How is Storm?" Tavis asked as he bent over the wounded girl. "Is it bad, Malcolm?"

  "Nay as bad as it could be," muttered Malcolm as, after ripping open Storm's dress, he proceeded to wash the wound clean. "The knife was meant tae go deep into the wee lass's back, but she moved in time."

  "So, 'twas all a ploy," breathed Sholto as he moved to the foot of his father's bed.

  "Aye. 'Twas the lass's idea. She guessed that 'twas an unnatural illness I suffered from."

  "How did ye get the wound to bleed?" asked Iain.

  "Chicken's blood in a pig's bladder afixed 'neath me arm. The open end pointed to me shoulder. All I had to do was squeeze it a wee bit and it looked as if me old wound bled anew."

  "Ye were ne'er in death's sleep, were ye," commented Tavis as he held Storm firmly to the bed so that, even in her unconscious state, she would not move as Malcolm stitched her wound.

  "Nay, that was Storm's idea as weel. It gave me time to recover, get me strength back."

  "How did she discover ye were being poisoned?"

  "She kenned the symptoms, Sholto," Colin replied. "I'm right sorry ye were kept in the dark, but we felt it better that way. Ye'd act more natural and Janet'd be more apt to confess the truth."

  "The poison was in the potion she mixed ye?"

  "Aye, Tavis. An ancient one—arsenic. A slow death so it would look like a wasting sickness and raise nary an eyebrow. It was a clever plan that nearly worked."

  "I wonder how the lass kenned what it was. 'Tis not common knowledge," Iain mused.

  " 'Twas how her mother died," Malcolm said as he finished bandaging Storm. "They caught it too late and, being a wee lady, she hadnae the strength to fight it like the laird did. Some woman did it. Gather the lady felt 'twas time for the laird o' Hagaleah tae take a new wife."

  Tavis suddenly recalled a small, girlish voice saying, "The way of a lady is a bit o' poison in the meal. So much more refined." Even then he had wondered at the bitterness in Storm's voice. Now he understood. As he brushed the hair from Storm's flushed face, he wondered how she had come through such trials with her innocence and optimism intact. Life had not treated her very kindly.

  "I cannae like her color, Malcolm," Tavis observed, his eyes on Storm's deepening flush.

  "Take her tae her own bed, lad," Malcolm ordered quietly. "Let's hope 'tis only the shock. I cannae do anymore for her wound, save change the bandage and keep it clean."

  " 'Tis too bad we didnae get the receipt for that salve she gave me so long ago," said Colin as he watched his son pick up Storm with the air of one handling fine glass.

  "Phelan might ken it," was all Tavis said as he left with his precious burden.

  Colin fixed his gaze upon Malcolm. "Ye do your best for the lass." After Malcolm had left he smiled at his two younger sons. "Weel, what do ye think o' my miraculous resurrection?"

  "Dinnae get too puffed up," drawled Iain with a grin that swiftly turned into a frown. "I may be wrong, and God kens I'd like to be, but I ken our Tavis is fair caught, though he may not see it."

  "Aye, I fear 'tis so." Colin was beginning to feel a bit tired. " 'Twill be a grief for the lad, but there is naught I can do. I'm fair weary, lads. Take that woman to her room and see that she's readied for burying. I would have liked to keep this quiet, but with a stabbing and a death, I fear I cannae."

  "We'll do what we can," Sholto promised as he lifted up Janet's body. "Ye get your rest."

  "Keep me informed of the lass's progress," Colin called softly as they left. "I now owe her my life."

  That was the thought on most minds of Caraidland as the tale of what had occurred in the laird's chambers spread like wildfire. Those few that had held Storm's birth against her now moved firmly into her camp. Colin was a very popular laird, and his clan now felt nothing but good toward the small English lady who had saved his life. None grieved for Janet. She had done little to make herself popular amongst her husband's people. They now did all they could to aid Storm's recovery, even if it was but to include her in their prayers, and not one of them felt that it was odd to do so.

  Tavis took Storm to her room, stripped her and tucked her up in bed. He was honestly afraid for her, a fact he spent no time reviewing, but simply accepted. She had lost a fair amount of blood before her wound had stopped bleeding. He saw only how small she was, worrying that she could not recoup the loss. When Phelan and Malcolm arrived he left her in their capable hands and sought out a strong drink. The day had been a long one, too full of surprises for Tavis's liking.

  "How's the lass?" Iain asked in greeting as he handed Tavis a full tankard of ale.

  "I cannae tell. She's still unconscious. I left Malcolm and Phelan doing what they could." Tavis took a long drink. "She's such a wee thing, and 'tis a deep wound that has lost her a lot of blood."

  "Aye, but she has strength," Sholto remarked as Tavis sat down at the table.

  "I cannae believe Janet tried tae kill Colin," Donald mused aloud. "She maun hae been mad."

  "I think she was a bit." Iain shook his head. "She had built a dream wherein she and Tavis would rule once Colin was gone. She thought 'twas only Colin's presence keeping Tavis at a distance." He fixed Tavis with a look that demanded a truthful explanation. "What night was she raving about?"

  It was only family at the table, men he knew could be trusted to be quiet, so Tavis explained. "So," he continued, "I went about for near to six months thinking I had done as she had said. There were times I couldnae look our father in the eye, I was so eaten with guilt."

  "How did ye find out ye hadnae?" Angus asked.

  "Storm made me review all that had happened that night. She rubs your back and neck, aye, and your head until ye feel near to sleep and will say most anything." Tavis's voice held a remembered amazement. "She learned the trick from an infidel. Without the tension the memory always brought, I was able to recall that Alex had aided me to bed. He took away my last doubts by saying that I couldnae have made love to any woman." He shook his head. "I think Janet had convinced herself of her own lies. She was near to mad."

  "Ye and the lasses, laddie," Angus sighed, causing the first laughter to be heard at Caraidland for three very long days.

  The rest of the day proved hectic for Tavis. What work he had to d
o was periodically interrupted so that he could look in on Storm and then report to his father on her condition. When he retired for the night Storm still had only the mildest of fevers, and he began to relax. He crawled into their bed, careful not to disturb her, but her eyes were open when he turned to look at her.

  "Janet tried to kill me, did she not?" she asked in a whisper that was hoarse with the pain that seemed to be radiating throughout her body from its origin in her shoulder.

  "Aye, lass." He gently brushed the hair from her face, relieved to find it relatively cool.

  "Sweet mother of God, it hurts," she croaked. "Is it a very bad wound?"

  "It could have been much worse, sweeting. The bitch was aiming for a mortal spot upon your back."

  " 'Tis my own fault. I should have planned for it. Aye, should have known it was unwise to turn my back on a murderess."

  "I think ye did enough planning." He saw her brief look of worry. "I'm nay angry with ye for keeping it all silent, lass. 'Twas the best way. We are no actors and could have given the game away. I thank ye for my father's life." He grinned at the way she blushed and looked away in embarrassment. "Ye must cease saving your enemies."

  She smiled weakly. "I could not let him die such a death, and I believe my father would think it wrong too. 'Tis a man of battle Colin is. He should die fighting bravely, not wasting away from a cup of poison handed him by such a treacherous wife."

  "Aye, that he should. Janet is dead, lass. Malcolm felled her with a blow from a fireplace poker."

  For a moment Storm was silent. "I do not understand how she could wed Colin if she had such a lack of feeling for the man. She was not forced; it was not arranged for her."

  "Nay, she wooed and wed him at Stirling. She was from a poor family and dowerless. My father offered her the wealth and position she'd nay gain in another way. He realized too late how she really saw him. She cozened him. My father is nay a young man any longer. I imagine he was flattered to think that such a young, beautiful woman found him attractive. He fell victim to an old game."

  "Ye are a cynic," Storm murmured as she caught the bitterness in his voice. " 'Tis a shame she did that, for I think there is many a fine woman nearer his age that would have thanked God daily for a man such as he. There are a good many widows. Colin is a man that likes to have a wife. He is not a libertine rogue like ye are," she added with a slight return of her old spirit.

  "He may yet find a good woman to keep him company during his declining years."

  " 'Twould be nice if ye said that with a bit of conviction."

  "I cannae. I have yet to find a good woman."

  "An I was not so weak, ye would pay dearly for that insult, Tavis."

  "Thank God for small mercies," he teased. "Get to sleep, little one. Ye need your rest to get weel."

  Storm obeyed without complaint. Despite her pain, she was weary enough to go to sleep, the short conversation using up what little strength she had. She was surprised at how gently Tavis held her, keeping her close enough to absorb the comfort of his strength but being very careful not to cause her any pain. It was nice to feel so cherished by him even if his reasons for doing so were not those she wanted.

  She wished she were home safe with her father, and Lady Mary sent far away along with Sir Hugh. It was not that she was unhappy at Caraidland. She had, in fact, settled in very nicely. Storm knew that the greatest danger was Tavis. With each passing day she fell more in love with him. As she fell asleep, she knew that the pain she would suffer for loving Tavis MacLagan would make her current pain seem like nothing at all.

  It proved a long night. Although Storm escaped suffering from a fever and seemed safe from infection, her pain made her restless. Several times Tavis woke to her moaning and thrashing. He would steady her, check her bandage and once gave her a draft to ease the pain. His reward was that, in the morning, her forehead still felt cool and her wound looked untainted.

  As he donned his robe preparatory to leaving the room, he paused to study her. Asleep, she looked like a child. Thick curves of lashes splayed over her delicate cheeks and her full lips were parted slightly. He was constantly astounded that such a tiny, innocent-looking woman was capable of the passion she revealed in his arms. She was proving a constant surprise.

  He brushed a kiss on her forehead and then hastily departed, a little embarrassed over his unseen display of tenderness. Yet again he sensed that he was in deep, that she was a danger to the feelings he had so successfully buried. Although he recognized that, he could not stay away from her. Without even trying she drew him back into her arms as no woman had done before.

  Chapter Ten

  Storm winced as she tried to brush her hair. The wound was healing very nicely but was stiff. It was not a fear of reopening it that made her cautious, for it would take a lot to do that, but the twinge of pain it often gave her. Nevertheless, she was determined to go down to the hall for her meal. She could not face another night lying on her bed, staring at her ceiling and wondering what everyone else was doing.

  There had been visitors. Colin had come to play chess with her. A lot of time had been spent teaching Angus about playing cards. Sholto and Iain had come to entertain her with nonsense now and again, although Tavis did not seem to like that. Tavis spent as much time as possible with her, as did Phelan. Despite all that and then some, for others had drifted in and out, she was bored. It was the confinement within her room that bothered her, and that was what she was determined to put to an end.

  "Let me help you, cousin," Phelan offered, taking the brush from her hands. "I am becoming quite good at this."

  "Aye, ye would make a fine lady's maid," she teased with a grin, and they both laughed.

  " 'Tis not so bad here." He began to braid her hair. "The men are teaching me a lot."

  "I am glad, Phelan. 'Tis a shame Father had to leave when he did, for that meant your training was cut short." She sighed as she watched Phelan start the second braid. "I pray that Lady Mary fails in her scheme."

  Phelan nodded in solemn, heartfelt agreement. Although he had not known Lord Eldon long, he had instantly liked the gruff-voiced, quick-tongued but gentle-natured man. He also knew how much it would hurt Storm to lose her father, and the very last thing Phelan wanted was for his much-loved cousin to be hurt.

  When they entered the hall a few minutes later Tavis went immediately to her side. He thought she looked far too attractive in the gold gown that accentuated her eyes so well. Since he could not convince her to stay in her room, he wished she could have looked haggard or dowdy at least. There were to be guests for dinner, and he did not want her looking as attractive as she did.

  "I still think 'tis too early for ye to be up and about," he groused, touching her pinned-up braids.

  "Tavis, I was wounded in the shoulder. My legs were not lopped off," she replied calmly but winked at a grinning Colin, who handed her a tankard of ale.

  "Thank God for that," Tavis drawled with a leer directed toward those slim limbs.

  "Your conceit is only exceeded by your vulgarity," she said haughtily, but her eyes danced with laughter. "Are ye having a celebration of sorts? Ye are all dressed so fine."

  "Surprised are ye? Weel, m'lady, I ken ye think of us as naught but rogues and pirates, but we have a skill or twa aside from raping and pillaging." Tavis met her scowl with a grin.

  Phelan stared up at Tavis innocently. "Aye and well ye love to hear the screams of the women ye pillage."

  "Phelan!" Storm had to force the scolding tone into her voice, for she wanted to laugh as the others did. " 'Tis not a subject for jests," she said with appropriate reproach although her lips fought a grin. "I merely asked if 'twas a special occasion, for I have no wish to intrude."

  "Nay, ye'll not be intruding, lass. Ye will be company for Angus's wife Maggie and Lord MacDubh's wife Helen. They and their son Alexander are our guests. 'Tis old friends they are. Ah, here is Angus now," Colin murmured.

  Angus's wife Maggie was a plump woman wit
h a cheerful, comely face that was a great contrast to her husband's usually dour one. Her dark hair held a few strands of gray but Storm knew the woman was still of child-bearing age, for she had just given Angus his fourth son and could only just be finished with her lying in. Her blue eyes were friendly and honest, brimming with the sparkle of good humor.

  " 'Tis glad I am tae see ye oot of your room, lass," Maggie said with a smile.

  "Aye, freedom is so sweet," Storm expounded dramatically. " 'Tis the chains weighting down my poor starved limbs that I am gladdest to be rid of." She met Maggie's laughter-filled glance with one of her own. "Of course I shall have my revenge. I have already planned it."

  "I should hope so. May I ask what it is?"

  Maggie had known from Angus's tales that she would like this little amber-eyed Sassanach lady.

  "Well, as he lies abed asnoring away ..."

  "I dinnae snore," protested Tavis, but his eyes revealed his amusement.

  "I shall paint him blue," Storm continued as if he had not spoken. "Pale blue."

  "Pale blue?" Maggie queried in a slightly choked voice.

  "Aye. I have thought from the start that he was a bit too dark." She started laughing along with Maggie.

  "Angus, I didnae ken that your wife had such a strange twist of humor just as my father," Tavis drawled with a glance at a chuckling Colin.

  " 'Tis something I have tried tae keep a secret, much like a deformity."

  "Angus!" Maggie protested laughingly. "Ye wretch tae speak o' your wife so. Oh! The guests."

  Tavis's good humor fled immediately, although he was all that was polite as the MacDubhs joined them. The minute Alexander MacDubh's eyes settled appreciatively upon Storm, Tavis began to plan on a way to get her back to her room as soon as possible. Not once did he name the emotion he felt as the jealousy that it was, but called it a natural sense of possession. Storm Eldon was his until she was returned to Hagaleah and what was his, stayed his.

  Storm greeted Lord and Lady MacDubh with all the respect due their position. She thought, irrepressibly that they looked like twins, both short, plump and silver-haired, although Lord MacDubh was a jovial, garrulous sort, while his wife was quiet and shy. Then she turned to meet their son, Alexander, and was stunned.