"Aye Milady," Moira murmured dutifully and then left the room.
Devon tried everything she knew to try to comfort her father, but he ignored her ministry calling out to visions of ghosts. If only Liam would come, Devon stopped herself mid-thought. Why did she want Liam here? The answer was evident to her in that moment. Liam always comforted her and comfort was what she wanted—someone to wipe away her fear her father was dying.
Malcolm was the only genuinely kind man she had ever known; all others had disappointed her with their cruelty… except Liam. Her mind muddled in confusion.
The door to the room opened and Liam rushed to her side wrapping his arms around her and holding her to his chest. He looked down at her father's pale face and she felt him inhale deeply. His hand began stroking her hair.
"So this is why Asilinn comes," he murmured under his breath.
Devon pushed back from the comfort of his arms and looked up at him. "Explain yourself, Milord."
"Asilinn is a great healer. If she had a vision about your father needing her services, that's why she's coming."
Devon was more than a little disquieted by his faith in this witch woman from Dunbocan. "I fear father's dying," she whispered.
Liam gave her a grim smile and pressed her head to his chest. "Not if Asilinn has anything to do with it," he said confidently. "We must keep him as comfortable as possible until she arrives."
Pulling away from him, Devon went over to stroke her father's brow. "I wilna wait for your Lady Asilinn," she said. "Moira has gone to fetch Fenella. She has served my family well over the years. She's very good with medicines and cures, a woman of letters."
"A peasant who can read and write?" her husband inquired. Devon nodded vigorously. She had never thought it odd before, but it was.
There was a strange look on Liam's face and she knew immediately something was amiss. Raising her hand, she realized her veil had flung back on one side, revealing almost one whole cheek. She quickly adjusted it feeling his presence looming over her.
"If that brief glimpse is any indication, you have nothing to hide," he said. She could feel his heavy breath. His body seemed to surround her.
"My scars are on the other side," she snapped, taking a few paces back from him and trying to regain control of the situation.
At that moment, Moira ran into the room tearfully wringing her hands. "What is it?" Liam asked.
"Milord, Fenella is dead! She's been murdered."
A sob choked from Devon's lips. "No!" she cried. "It canna be."
"Where is she?" Liam asked. "Are you sure she's dead?"
Moira moved over to comfort Devon. "Aye Milord, she's been stabbed. Durwin waits downstairs to take you to her cottage."
Liam walked over and stroked his wife's head, leaning down to kiss her briefly. "Dinna be afraid, Devon. Asilinn will arrive to help your father." Not waiting for her to respond, he turned and left the room.
***
When Durwin and Liam reached the cottage, Garyth greeted them. Liam gave him a brief greeting and went inside. The cottage was a wreck; jars and containers strewn across the floor. A once orderly collection of medicines and cures now lay scattered everywhere.
There were two chambers, a main one where all the medicines were, and a smaller one that apparently served as a bedchamber.
Entering the smaller room, Liam saw Fenella. She lay in a pool of her own blood blindly staring at the ceiling. There was no weapon at the scene. Liam knelt beside her and reached over to close her lifeless eyes. "Go and question all those who live nearby," he ordered. "Ask if they saw or heard anything unusual last night or early this morning. If there is anyone who knows her possessions, I need their help."
"I dinna understand, Milord," Garyth objected. "Do you think 'twas a robbery? Surely this old woman had nothing of value."
Liam stood and eyed Garyth. "I believe this may be connected with Malcolm's mysterious illness."
"Malcolm is ill?"
"It appears to have come on suddenly. Rather odd that the only person who deals in herbs and cures is dead on the same night Malcolm falls ill. Mayhaps someone got poison from Fenella and then had to kill her to keep her silence."
"You think Malcolm was poisoned?"
"Aye, I've seen a similar case before. Malcolm has the same symptoms." Liam's mind ran back to Wynne, the night she drank the poisoned brew meant for Asilinn. It was something about the color of Malcolm's skin. Liam was certain Malcolm was poisoned.
"But if that's true, why do you need to account for her possessions?" Garyth asked.
Liam was losing patience. "To see if the murderer left any clues to his identity."
"I am sorry for my impudence," Garyth apologized. "No doubt her daughter would have some idea what might be missing, but I dinna want her to see her mother like this."
"Fetch the girl. I'll see to the body."
Durwin and Garyth went off on their errands and Liam was alone for a few minutes. He picked up the old woman's hands and checked to see if she held any clue to her killer's identity. She had obviously been taken by surprise and not put up much of a fight. Whoever had killed her wanted to be certain she was dead. She had more than twenty stab wounds piercing her body.
He got a piece of sheeting from the bed and threw it over the body, lifting her and placing her on the cot. Something dropped to the floor, ricocheting under the bed. Liam got down on his knees and plucked the small gold button from its resting place.
A quick survey of the woman's clothing told him the button was not from anything she wore. He stuck it in his pocket while he searched the cottage for any other clues. Nothing much turned up and the neighbors could offer no additional help.
Liam turned to go when Elspeth's tear-streaked face appeared in the doorway. He looked from the beautiful young girl to the old woman. "She was your mother?"
"Aye, Milord. I was abandoned as a child and Fenella took me in and raised me like her own." The girl burst into tears and ran sobbing to the cot where the covered body lay.
Putting his arm around her shoulder, Garyth tried to comfort her but she seemed unable to collect herself.
"When you recover from the shock of this, I'd like you to meet me here to go over her belongings," Liam told her. "Garyth, you and Durwin will be in charge of seeing nothing here is touched until Elspeth and I have met. Take Fenella and whatever clothes are necessary for her burial," he instructed.
Walking over to the distraught girl, Liam took her trembling hand. "I'm very sorry about your mother. I promise you whoever did this shall be punished."
"Thank you, Milord," Elspeth murmured.
Satisfied he could do nothing else for the moment, Liam headed back to the castle. As he walked, he ran the strange circumstances over in his head. Why did he have this feeling the two incidents were connected? Malcolm might have just fallen ill. There was no way to be certain he it was poison, but a nagging suspicion tore at Liam because the two incidents occurred the same night, that and the familiar pallor of Malcolm's skin.
The identity of Fenella's daughter had shocked him. If Bryce Forbes had taken Elspeth to his bed, he surely knew of Fenella and her cures. Why poison Malcolm? It seemed more logical for the killer to come after the new laird of Dunsmore Heath. After all, Liam had stolen Bryce's prize.
Unable to set it aside, Liam stopped by the kitchen to talk with the cook. He asked for a complete account of any food she had served Malcolm the day before.
"Oh Milord!" the woman gasped. "Surely ya dinna think I gave Laird Malcolm rotten food."
"No," he assured her. "I'm just looking into what might have made him ill. Was there anything out of the ordinary he ate or drank?"
The woman thought for a minute. "Well, last night… but that couldna 'ave made 'im sick."
"What?"
"He'll be mad at me for tellin' this, but I suppose I must. The day of yer weddin' Bryce Forbes presented a gift, a bottle of rare wine from France. Laird Malcolm said it wasna proper for the bastard
to give 'is daughter anythin', and he took the wine 'imself. I believe he opened it last night."
"Thank you," Liam said. He strode off toward his father-in-law's chamber. It all fit—the strangely strong wine Bryce had sent him before the tournament, Bryce wanting to use the gift to kill both he and Devon. By now, the bastard would know his plan had failed. Devon might be in danger.
Liam found her safe, hovering by her father's bed. She rose and came to him when he entered, leaning heavily against his chest.
"He grows worse," she whispered tearfully. "I feel so helpless. I dinna know how to save him. He raves like a madman."
Liam caressed her, drinking in the smell of lavender that drifted up to his nostrils. She felt so right in his arms.
At length they drew apart and settled into chairs by the bed. They sat there in silence. From what Liam observed, Devon was right. Malcolm was sinking as fast as the setting sun that stretched its lengthening shadows across the floor.
The room was thick with the feel of death. The smell of sweaty bedclothes hung in the air, penetrating his nostrils and conjuring up the vision of the last time he'd seen Sarah alive.
He let his eyes drift closed in pain as the vision unfolded. She'd poisoned herself with Hemlock—lay small and pale in the bed. When he saw her slim form and touched the cold, white skin of her face, she gazed up at him. "I'm sorry," she whispered through parched lips. Then her eyes closed forever. He had collapsed beside her, his body racked with uncontrollable sobs. The pain was so great he'd wanted to die himself. He'd cried for the first time since his childhood.
A light rap on the door woke Liam from his garish doze. Standing, he stretched and patted Devon's head.
She rose up from her coiled position at the bedside and checked Malcolm. He was so still she grasped his shoulders and shook him until he moaned, then sank back into her chair in relief.
Devon's attention turned to Liam, who had just opened the door to admit her father's most trusted kin, Cullen Dunsmore. "I have found no trace of him, Laird. 'Tis clear he's fled. You must have been right about him."
Devon came to stand beside her husband. "Right about what?"
"Laird Liam believes Bryce Forbes poisoned a bottle of wine meant as a wedding present for you and your husband to drink. Malcolm spotted the gift and removed it, thinkin' a gift from Bryce would sit wrong with Laird Liam. The cook says he opened it and drank some last night," Cullen explained.
Devon's hand went to her mouth. "Dear God!" she gasped. "Bryce tried to kill us?"
"And perhaps Fenella, if she sold him the poison."
A moan from the bed drew everyone's attention back to Malcolm. Devon glanced at her husband. "I pray you're right about your cousin's wife. It appears she might be our only hope." She wiped Malcolm's brow with a damp cloth, then turned to Liam. "If Bryce is to blame and gave us the wine on our wedding night, why didn't he kill her then? Surely she would have realized what he had done if we had drunk the wine and died."
"I dinna know," Liam replied. "'Tis a theory, but his flight from Dunsmore Heath would seem to indicate some sort of guilt." Devon nodded her agreement.
***
"Fool!" Bryce admonished. "You have made me look like a murderer," he ranted. "I go off to visit Glenfinnan and you…." He threw up his hands in frustration.
"'Twas not you then?" Nigel asked. "Not that I would tell anyone if it was," his cousin rushed on.
Bryce gave him a withering glare. "Why would I go to all this trouble when sweet Lady Devon will kill Liam herself?"
"I think you're daft," Nigel said defensively. "Lady Devon would never harm anyone."
"She killed my brother," Bryce accused. "And I mean to see her punished for it." Nigel slumped in his chair. "If you had just done as you were told, I would have been in the clear," Bryce continued.
"I'm sorry," Nigel murmured. "But how was I to know what was about to occur? I thought you were better off with Laird Liam not knowing your whereabouts. I thought…."
"You think too much!" Bryce interrupted.
"What happens now?" Nigel asked, quaking under his cousin's wrath.
"I guess we shall have to wait and see," Bryce muttered. "Just wait and see…."
Chapter Eight
By noon of the following day, Jared and Asilinn had arrived with their entourage. Liam was explaining Malcolm's illness when Devon came down to greet the woman her husband had proclaimed to be her only hope. When Devon entered the hall, Asilinn was already calling for one of her trunks.
"Asilinn, may I present my wife, Lady Devon Dunsmore MacLean," Liam said proudly.
Asilinn smiled and took Devon's hand. "I understand we must hurry," she said, propelling Devon toward the stairs. "I've brought along my cures."
The woman looked like some ethereal being. Long, golden curls fell down her back, and she wore a sky blue dress which made her eyes shine like glowing sapphires. Devon was almost afraid to speak lest the apparition change into something more in keeping with Devon's idea of a witch.
"Lady Asilinn," she began.
“I know you are doubtful, but you shall have to trust me. From what Liam has told me it sounds like Henbane. I am all too familiar with it. Let me save your father and then I'll answer all your questions."
Taken aback by Asilinn's insistent manner and anticipation of all her questions, Devon led Asilinn to Malcolm's room without further hesitation.
The situation had grown so dire she was sure there was little that could hurt. Maybe Liam was right about this woman.
When they reached Malcolm's chamber, Asilinn rushed to the bed, then snapped off a list of precise questions to Devon. Listening carefully to Devon's responses, she confirmed her original diagnosis.
"I'll need some goat's milk, a pitcher of honey water, and some Fennel seeds," Asilinn said. "Do hurry up," she reprimanded when Devon stood in shocked silence. "Go!"
Despite her misgivings, Devon hurried off to procure what the witch woman had demanded. Her fears were allayed somewhat when Asilinn directed her to help with the treatment.
They prodded Malcolm to consciousness and forced the goat's milk and honey water down his throat at intervals. During Malcolm's lapses into sleep, Asilinn ground the Fennel seeds into a powder, which she added to the goat's milk.
Devon watched Asilinn while they both sat in attendance at Malcolm's bed. She hadn't spoken much except to give orders. It wasn't hard to see why Liam had such affection for this woman. Asilinn had the face of an angel. Rich, golden curls framed her oval face and her intense, blue eyes seemed to cut through all pretenses and delve right into you.
What did Asilinn see when she turned her eyes to the veil? Did she reach into the great beyond and know what Devon had done? Forcing those thoughts from her mind, Devon settled back in her chair to wait.
She and Asilinn continued their vigil all through the day and into the night. Both Liam and Jared came in several times to check on their progress, but Asilinn shooed them away after a short time assuring them she and Devon would call them when needed.
Devon resented this beautiful woman who seemed to have taken over her father's care, but at least she was doing something other than sitting idly by the bed watching him die.
Asilinn and Devon dozed in their chairs by the bed as the morning sun pierced the room. Devon stirred when there was a movement in the bed. She opened her eyes to find her father trying to sit up in bed. His pallor was much improved and although weak from his ordeal, he finally looked as if he might live.
She let out a shriek of delight and hugged him. "There, there child," he whispered.
Asilinn sat up in time to take in the joyous reunion. "I'm glad to see you feeling better, Malcolm," Asilinn said with a smile.
"So, 'twas the Enchantress of Dunbocan who called me back from certain death," he chuckled. "A thousand thanks, Lady Asilinn."
"You know Asilinn?"
"I visited with her and Laird Jared. 'Twas Asilinn who tended my shoulder wound after Liam saved me from
the hired assassins."
"Of course," Devon mumbled. "I'm sorry I have been so difficult, Lady Asilinn. I don’t know what came over me."
Asilinn took Devon's hand and squeezed it. "You were just concerned for your father." She stopped and studied Devon's veil. "And I am concerned for you," she said. "I tell you this with great certainty, the day you remove your veil is the day you begin to heal your heart."
The directness of the prediction totally unnerved Devon. "I… I'm scarred beneath this covering," she stammered.
"If you say so," Asilinn replied. "Your father will be fine now. Why don't you go and get some rest?"
"Go on," Malcolm urged.
Devon gave him a quick kiss and left the room, pausing outside the door when her dress caught beneath her heel.
The voices from within drifted out to her. "You see things others don't," her father said slowly.
"And I keep my own counsel. Don’t worry. Devon will be fine. Liam will see to it," Asilinn predicted.
How did this beautiful woman know so much about her husband? Devon's lips curled in a frown. Fixing her dress, she hurried down the hall.
When Devon rushed headlong into the master's chamber, it did not occur to her that at this early hour her husband would still be there. She ran right into his magnificent naked form as he stepped from the curtained bed.
"What sweet confection comes my way," he teased, drawing her to him in a warm embrace. "How is your father this morning?"
"Much improved," she managed, overwhelmed by the myriad of emotions that swirled over her. She wanted Liam, but she didn't, or did she? Why did his touch evoke such strong physical feeling within her? She was just tired.
"Come into my bed awhile," he entreated. "I'll massage the tightness from your tired body."
"I… I'm fine," she stated uncertainly.
She felt the laugh rumble up through his chest as he pulled her into the bed with him. "You still don’t trust me," he accused, his voice light with tenderness. "I only wish to give you comfort after your terrible ordeal."
Connie C. Scharon - Highland Legends 02 Page 8