Tempted by a Highland Moon

by Gwyn Brodie

  KILA FINISHED HER TART. "That was most delicious, but 'tis time for me to retire," she said, rising from the bench. "I'm afraid I'm dreadfully tired."

  "Then I shall see you to your room," Duncan said, rising to his feet." There's no telling who might be lurking about."

  "Tis most kind of you." She slipped her arm through his.

  Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the room, as he escorted her through the inn, daring any of the more unsavory guests to comment, then up the stairs and to her bedchamber."Get some rest, lass. Tomorrow we move on."

  Kila nodded. Aye, they would move on, ever closer to her new husband and a new life. The thought of never seeing Duncan again tore at her heart. She forced back her tears as she opened the door. "Then I bid you goodnight."

  With a quick nod he was gone.

  Kila entered the room, where the maid was waiting for her. "Did you eat your fill, Wyn?"

  The maid smiled and nodded. "Aye, 'twas good fare, to be sure," she said, helping Kila get ready for bed. "'Twas most kind of the Highlander to allow Coira and m'self to dine alongside everyone else. He's a good lad."

  "Aye, he is at that." He was also kind, handsome, gentle, fair, and those were just a few of the words Kila would have used to describe the man who had become not only her protector, but her friend. She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Is there any wine?"

  "Aye. I'll fetch it." Wyn picked up the pitcher, but it slipped from her hands and spilled, splashing onto Kila's face and smock before she could upright it. "Oh, m'lady. Please, forgive me."

  "There is naught to forgive. 'Twas but an accident. She wiped the wine from her eyes and face with the hem of her shift, before removing it and slipping on the clean one the maid handed her.

  Wyn looked into the pitcher. There's but a wee taste left, would ye like me to fetch more?"

  Kila always found that a few sips of wine before bed helped her sleep better. "Dinnae fash, Wyn. There's plenty," she said, holding out the goblet, into which the maid drained the remainder of the wine. Kila drank it down, then slipped beneath the covers.

  After extinguishing the candles, Wyn lay down on the pallet near the bed, snuggled beneath the covers, and was soon snoring lightly.

  Kila turned onto her side, and stared into the crackling fire. Duncan's handsome face came to mind and her heart danced. What was the matter with her? Had she allowed herself to fall in love with him, when she was meant to wed someone else?

  She licked her lips, realizing her mouth was suddenly very dry. A sharp pain shot through her stomach and she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out and waking Wyn. Perhaps she'd eaten something at supper that didn't agree with her, for she'd been very hungry and had eaten quite a bit. That had to be it. What else would be causing her to feel so ill?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The first light of morning spilled across the bedchamber. Duncan opened his eyes, squinting against the brightness, and rolled out of bed. He drew in a deep breath, inhaling the mouth-watering aroma from whatever combination of foods were cooking in the kitchen below. The meal the night before had been excellently prepared, as he was certain the food with which they would break their fast would be.

  Several quick knocks sounded at his door. "Please, there's something wrong with Lady Kila."

  It was Wyn, Kila's lady's maid. "I'll be right there." He quickly dressed and hurried to Kila's room, where he found her sitting up in bed, looking disoriented and distraught. "Kila, what is wrong?"

  "I cannae see!" she sobbed. Everything is but a blur."

  "Open the window coverings," he ordered the maid. Once the room was flooded with light, he tilted Kila's head back and looked at her eyes. The centers were large and black. Poison. "Fetch the healer."

  Wyn rushed out of the room, then quickly returned. "The landlord sent fer the healer."

  "Lie down, lass, and rest. I'll stay right here." he whispered, smoothing her damp hair away from her pale face. Whoever had done such a despicable thing would sorely pay, for he would see they did.

  "I'm so thirsty, Duncan. I can hardly swallow, and my tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth."

  Wyn grabbed up the empty pitcher. "I'll fetch more wine."

  Duncan raised a brow. "You're no' telling me she drank an entire pitcher last night?"

  "Nay, I spilled most of it, and she drank what was left, which wasnae much."

  Which was a good thing, or else Kila would more than likely be dead. His chest tightened at the thought of how close he had come to losing her—and feared that he still might. "Leave that pitcher here, and fetch another filled with water. Bring a cup as well, and dinnae let anyone near them."

  The maid gasped. "Ye fear m'lady has been poisoned?" she whispered.

  He nodded. "Aye, I do. But dinnae let anyone ken, not even her stepmother. Only say she has taken ill, and naught more."

  Wyn nodded, then left the room.

  He lifted the pitcher to his nose, but smelled naught but spiced wine. That didn’t mean there wasn't any poison, for there were many that couldn't be detected by taste or smell.

  Kila suddenly gasped and sat straight up. "I hear my father in the corridor. He will be most angry that you are in my bedchamber." She frowned. "Why are you here?"

  He felt helpless, listening to her speak of her dead father as if he were still alive. "He'll no' be angry, lass. We're wed and I have a right to be here," he lied, in hopes of calming her.

  Kila smiled. "I'm glad you are my husband, Duncan. I feel safe with you, and ken you will always take care of me."

  His heart ached. If only he could have kept this from happening to her. "All will be well, lass. I'll see to it." He would keep his word, or die trying.

  She shivered. "Hold me, Duncan. I'm so cold."

  He pulled her onto his lap and cradled her against him, then wrapped the bed covers around her. Her heart hammered unnaturally. Another effect of the poison?

  Wyn entered the room carrying a pitcher and cup. She filled the cup with water and handed it to Duncan, who lifted it to Kila's parched lips.

  She greedily drank it, then placed her head against his chest. She yawned. "I'm so sleepy." She snuggled against him and closed her eyes.

  The healer entered the room, followed by a worried looking landlord, who waited by the doorway.

  Duncan stood with Kila in his arms, then gently placed her on the bed for the healer to take a look at. "I think she's been poisoned," he whispered.

  She nodded, then gently shook Kila. "Wake up m'lady. "Tis I, the healer."

  Kila groaned. "I'm no' in need of a healer. I just wish to sleep."

  "She tells me she can hardly see," he said, taking hold of her hand.

  The old woman grunted, and after taking a good look at Kila, she turned to Wyn." Did the lass get anything in her eyes?"

  "Aye. When I spilled the wine, a bit splashed in her face, but m'lady quickly wiped it away."

  The healer nodded, and looked up at Duncan. "Just as ye thought. Poison."

  "Can you tell me what 'tis?"

  "'Tis most likely deadly nightshade."

  Fear stabbed at his heart. Nightshade had been the choice of assassins for many centuries because there was no smell, and the intended victim couldn't detect it in whatever they were eating or drinking. "Will she live?"

  "Aye. She didnae get much, or else she'd already be dead. But the lass is going to be sick for a time."

  "Will she be able to see clearly again?"

  "Aye, 'twill, but wash her eyes several times a day with cool water until her sight returns. Allow her to sleep, but wake her often, and give her sips of whisky to purge the poison. 'Tis fine if she doesnae keep it down. Have someone fetch me, if she takes a turn for the worse."

  He turned to Wyn. "Fetch the whisky."

  "Aye," she said, then hurried away.

  He leaned over and whispered in the old woman's ear. "With the lady's life being in such danger, I'd ask you to keep the fact she was poisoned to yourself." He pressed two coins
into her wrinkled hand.

  She nodded, then left, leaving the door open behind her, which was just as well, since he didn't wish people to think he'd compromised the lass. He frowned. Her betrothed might not approve.

  A moment later, Verona sailed into the room. "What is wrong with Kila? Is she ill?"

  He nodded. "Aye, she is, but the healer thinks she will be fine," he said, watching the woman's reaction, seeing neither agitation that Kila still lived, nor concern that she was ill.

  She smiled and stroked Kila's pale cheek. "Poor thing. She must have consumed too much food at supper last night. The girl has such an unnatural appetite."

  Duncan raised a brow. He didn't find Kila's appetite unnatural at all. In fact, she seemed but to enjoy her food, much as he did.

  She scowled. "Where is Wyn? She should never have left my stepdaughter alone with you. Apparently neither of you had a moment's thought about Kila's reputation. If Laird Monro finds out, he'll be furious."

  He didn't give a damn about what Laird Monro thought. "I sent her to fetch something for her mistress, and besides, the door is standing wide open."

  Without another word, she turned on her heel and was gone.

  He pulled a chair up beside the bed and watched Kila sleep. She seemed more restful than before, and he hoped that was a good sign she would recover, as the healer had said she would.

  Wyn returned with a tray of food and goblet of ale for him, accompanied by a male servant with the whisky.

  "Much thanks, Wyn."

  "Might I speak with ye? About Lady Kila?" she asked, once the servant had left the bedchamber.

  He nodded, and followed the maid to the far side of the room.

  "I was the one what tended Lady Kila's father—Laird Murray—when he fell ill, and his sickness seemed to be the same as her own."

  He frowned. "Are you saying he may have been poisoned as well?"

  She nodded. "Aye. I thought ye should ken."

  "Have you any thoughts on who might have poisoned the laird?"

  Wyn quickly shook her head. "Nay."

  "Much thanks for telling me, but tell no one else of your thoughts on the matter, even Lady Kila."

  "I've told only ye."

  "Good."

  After waking Kila long enough to tend her eyes, and give her a few small sips of whisky, he sat down to break his fast.

  Conner and Eadan appeared in the open doorway.

  Connor looked down at Kila and frowned. "The lass is as pale as the mist. We just learned of the healer's visit. Did she ken what's wrong with her?"

  Duncan set his food down, and left Kila's bedside, motioning for them to follow. "Poison," he said, keeping his voice low.

  "What sort of poison?" Eadan asked, glancing at the bed.

  "Deadly nightshade."

  His friends looked astonished.

  "If so, then why is she no' dead?" Connor wondered.

  "Exactly what I asked myself. I'm thinking the poison was slipped into the wine, since learning from her maid the contents of the pitcher were spilled, except for a small amount—which Kila drank."

  Conner shook his head. "Who would go to such trouble to kill her?"

  Eadan raked his fingers through his dark hair. "And why?"

  Duncan exhaled loudly. "I'm wondering that myself. There's more. Her maid tended Kila's father while he was ill, and thinks the symptoms are similar. If indeed Laird Murray was poisoned, the same person most likely poisoned them both. That narrows the list down considerably."

  Eadan frowned. "That rules out Ranulf's guards, as well as Connor and myself—and you of course."

  "Aye," Connor said. "Then who does that leave?"

  Duncan narrowed his eyes. "Verona, Balfour, the two maids, and the Murray guards. And I sincerely doubt it would be one of the guards—or the maids."

  Connor nodded. "Then it has to be either Verona or Balfour—or both"

  "It seems that my gut feeling may have been correct."

  They nodded in agreement.

  "Put one of the earl's guards on each of them, but dinnae let them ken it."

  "We'll keep you informed," Eadan said, before following Connor out.

  While Duncan finished breaking his fast, he tried to think of a reason Verona and Balfour might want Kila dead, and naught came to mind. And as of yet, he had no solid proof that it was actually one of them who had poisoned her. Even so, he meant to keep an even closer eye on the two, for if they were responsible for poisoning her, how far might they be willing to go to see Kila dead?

  VERONA POUNDED ON BALFOUR's bedchamber door, til he finally opened it.

  "What the devil took you so long?" she snapped, as she marched into the room. One of the inn's young servant girls stood red-faced beside the bed, partially clad in the bed covers. Her right cheek carried a dark bruise, and her lip was split and swollen. Once again her brother had gotten carried away with his bed sport.

  Balfour turned to the girl. "Get dressed and leave us."

  Without a word, she slipped her shift over her head, grabbed up the rest of her things and quickly exited the bedchamber.

  Verona closed the door behind her. "You really must learn to control yourself, Balfour. One of these days your roughness will get you hung, if you manage to do harm to the wrong man's daughter."

  He frowned. I ken you're no' here to talk about what I do in bed, Verona. What is it you want?"

  "The deadly nightshade failed me. It seems that clumsy maid of Kila's spilled most of it."

  He laughed, as he staggered back to his bed and crawled beneath the tangled covers.

  "What do you find so amusing?"

  He grinned. "You raked me over the coals for missing her with my arrow, and then you poison her drink and it doesnae kill her."

  Verona tapped her foot. "I see naught to laugh about."

  "I'm certain you realize that from this point forward, the Highlander will keep an even closer watch on Kila. I doubt he'll even allow her out of his sight."

  She frowned. "Aye, which will only make it that much harder to get to her, but I'll tell you one thing, I'll no' stop until I do."

  IT TOOK SEVERAL DAYS for Kila's sight to return to normal, and for her to finally feel like her old herself again. Duncan had been beside her during most of the daytime hours, and checked on her each night before retiring to his bedchamber. Once the poison was out of her system and she'd started to recover, they had spent many a long hour together, and had grown much closer because of it. Kila had just gone to bed, when a knock sounded at the door.

  Wyn opened it and Duncan entered the bedchamber. A grin broke across his face when he saw Kila, and her heart fluttered. "I wasnae certain if you'd still be awake, lass, but Lady Murray is insisting we leave the inn as soon as possible and continue on to Whitestag. Of course, I informed her I had to first make certain you were up to traveling."

  What Kila said, and what she wanted to say were two very different things altogether. "Aye, I believe so," she said, with a heavy heart. Cannae you see that I love you, Duncan? How can I continue on to Whitestag and wed another man when you're the one that I want?

  He nodded. "Very well. Then we leave the day after the morrow. I'll bid you goodnight." He gently pressed his lips against her forehead, then turned around and left the bedchamber.

  Wyn closed the door behind him. "Are ye certain ye're well enough to ride a horse, m'lady?"

  She sighed. "I suppose I'll find out soon enough." Tears burned the backs of her eyes.

  Wyn gently placed her hand on Kila's arm, "I've tended ye since ye were a child, and ken ye better than most. If ye dinnae mind my saying so, m'lady, it appears to me ye're in love with the lad, and him with ye."

  Kila looked at the maid, no longer able to control her tears. "I'll no' deny it, but where does that leave me?"

  Wyn slowly shook her head. "I dinnae ken, m'lady, but if he truly loves ye, he'll find a way fer the two of ye to be together."

  AFTER LEAVING KILA, Duncan made his way downstair
s, where he found Connor and Eadan sitting at a table in one corner of the inn, sharing a bottle of whisky."Mind if I join you?"

  Connor nodded. "Grab a cup."

  Duncan took one from the stack on a nearby table, and sat down, pushing aside the flickering candle that was no more than a stub.

  Eadan filled Duncan's cup to the brim before refilling his own and Connor's.

  Duncan gulped down the whisky, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "What are the two of you doing here instead of sleeping?"

  Connor grinned. "We could ask you the same thing."

  He blew out a long breath. "I doubt if I'll be able to sleep at all. We continue on to Whitestag the day after the morrow, and I've yet to ask Kila if she'll marry me, nor do I have a plan if she says she will."

  Eadan leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. "What's stopping you from asking her?"

  He shook his head. "I dinnae ken."

  Connor leaned forward and looked him in the eye." Are you afraid of what she'll say, Duncan?"

  "Aye. I suppose I am."

  Eadan grasped his shoulder. "Do you love the lass?"

  "More than my own life."

  "Mark my word. If you dinnae tell her how you feel, and allow her to wed Monro, you'll regret it for the rest of your life," Connor pointed out.

  Duncan nodded. "Aye, I would, that’s for certain."

  "And dinnae wait until we ride through the gates of Whitestag to ask her," Eadan said, chuckling.

  "I'll no'," Duncan promised, laughing along with his foster brothers. But inside, fear squeezed his chest until he could hardly breathe. What if he was wrong about how much Kila cared for him?

  THE MORNING THEY LEFT The Pheasant Inn, Kila rode with Duncan, as she had before, his targe protecting her front, and him, her back. Since the night he'd come to her bedchamber, asking if she were well enough to travel, he'd seemed somewhat distant. "Duncan?"

  "Aye?"

  "I ken when you agreed to take me to Whitestag Castle you didnae expect to be guarding my life as well. I wish to thank you for that."