Connie C. Scharon - Highland Legends 02

by Phantom Bride

  Sweat covered Liam's brow. He was struggling to stay conscious. His eyes met Malcolm's as the elder man rushed over.

  "Poison wine," Liam choked.

  "Dear Lord," Malcolm muttered. Liam nodded weakly. At that moment, Moira came up behind Malcolm and let out a shriek. "Quiet!" Malcolm admonished. "Fetch Devon and tell her to bring goat's milk."

  Moira's face went sober. "I know she didna do it, Milord," she mumbled.

  Malcolm's eyebrows came together in a scowl. "What are you saying, woman?" Moira fled the room.

  Forcing his arm up, Liam pressed the note into Malcolm's hand. "Devon…." he whispered.

  Malcolm glanced at the paper, then back at Liam. "God, have mercy," he gasped. "No!"

  "It's in her hand," Liam said through parched lips.

  Malcolm studied the note, and then threw it into the fire.

  "Will you protect her if she kills me?" Liam asked, his eyes searching Malcolm's face.

  "Devon didn't do this. Someone is trying to throw suspicion her way, but she would never do this."

  "This morning she compared me to Frazer," Liam whispered. He collapsed back on the floor, his body limp from the poison snaking through his veins.

  Devon reached the doorway flanked by an entourage of unwelcome company. Liam lay on the floor, his pale skin an all too familiar image. She heard Bryce snicker somewhere in the background. This couldn't be happening! Devon stood in shocked silence by the door—unable to move—unable to think of anything but the possibility that the man before her might be suddenly snatched from her—her savior—her husband. Claire pushed by her and rushed over to Liam.

  Malcolm was livid. "I told you to get Devon, not the whole fellowship," he railed in Moira's general direction. The maid disappeared out the door. Turning to the guests, who stood in an anxious group behind Devon, he snorted his outrage.

  Claire's eyes shot from Liam to Devon. "What have you done!" she shrieked. "She caught me with her husband this morning, now look what she has done," Claire accused, pointing a finger at Devon.

  She was a statue—her feet wouldn't move. The horrid woman touched him—stroked him while all the rest gawked at Devon as if she had done this thing. She saw Liam's eyes gazing into her veiled face.

  He struggled to one elbow. "Get out of here," he ordered.

  Her heart contracted. He thought she did it.

  "I want all of you out except my father-in-law and my wife," he continued. Devon's heart pounded wildly in her chest. He wanted her here. Liam's strength faltered and he fell back on the floor.

  Freed from her stupor, Devon took charge. "Put him on the bed," she directed, motioning to Garyth to help her father. Devon turned to face the group. "You heard my husband, go back downstairs, and have your supper. We'll take care of Liam."

  Claire gave her an icy stare as she moved toward the door. "If he dies, I'll see you hung."

  "Enough of this nonsense," Malcolm chided. "This is not Devon's doing."

  Moira returned with necessary remedies and the crowd dispersed slowly, eyeing Devon suspiciously, as they left. Ignoring them, she turned her attention to her husband. "I didn't do this," she whispered. "Please say you believe me."

  Liam groaned, his eyelids flickering. Planting a kiss on his brow, Devon grabbed his jaw and forced the goat's milk down his throat until he choked at her effort. Moira and Malcolm pitched in, giving Liam no rest until they forced him to take all of the remedies Asilinn had given Malcolm. At length he fell into a deep sleep. Devon sat in silent vigil, awaiting the next opportunity to deliver the treatment.

  In the quiet of the room, she stared through the netting at her father. "I swear to you it wasn't me," she said softly.

  She saw his back stiffen. "Whoever did it left a note in your hand."

  "Where is it?"

  "I burned it."

  Devon rose abruptly from her seat, looking first at her father, then at Moira. The servant hung in the shadows by the door. "It wasn't me, and now you've left me unable to prove it."

  "Did you catch Liam with Claire this morning?"

  "Yes, but… not the way you think, Claire was trying to seduce him. The woman makes no secret of the fact she wants Liam."

  "This looks so bad for you, child," Malcolm murmured.

  "Perhaps it's my punishment for Frazer," Devon replied crisply.

  Liam stirred again and the trio set about forcing more of the cure down him, continuing their watch until he rested more comfortably.

  ***

  Liam groaned and rolled over on his back. A dull pain permeated his whole body. The ache from hours of vomiting, he decided. Vaguely he remembered the slim figure of his wife holding him close to her chest as the cure rid his system of the offending liquid.

  He let his eyelids flutter open. Malcolm dozed in a nearby chair and Devon's veiled head rested on the pillow beside him. Liam tried to say something, but his voice was nothing more than a raspy whisper. It didn't matter. She heard him, coming awake with a start.

  "How are you feeling?" Devon asked. She rushed on when he didn't respond immediately. "Your color is better. I've used all the medicines Asilinn used on father."

  Her image hovered above him. Reaching his arm up, he grasped her head with his hand and jerked her down to his face. "Did you poison me?"

  "No!"

  "The note was in your own hand. Your father burned it to protect you.”

  Devon burst into tears. "No!" she shrieked, jolting her father awake with the terror in her voice. "It wasn't me! I swear to you, I didn't do this." She collapsed on the bed beside him sobbing as if her heart would break.

  Liam looked up at Malcolm, who stood over them, his features stern in the dim light. Hanging his head, he turned from Liam's intense gaze. "I truly don't know," Malcolm mumbled. Devon's cries intensified at her father's remark. "She swears she's innocent. I must try to believe her…. She spent the night trying to save you. Is that the action of a murderess?"

  "I don't know," Liam replied hoarsely. "Leave us. I would speak to my wife alone."

  "You won't harm her," Malcolm entreated. "If she's done this thing, I'm sure she wasn't in her right mind."

  Liam snorted derisively at the comment. "Go! You do more harm in your attempt at protection. Besides, do I look like I could harm a fly? She is safer with me than I am with her if she's the one."

  Malcolm nodded and patted Devon's head, then slowly left the room. The sound of the door closing vibrated through the chamber.

  "Devon," Liam whispered. "Talk to me, tell me how a note in your hand could await me if you didn't write it."

  Sniffling, she rolled on her back beside him, her head facing the curtained ceiling of the bed. "I did leave you a note. After my behavior this morning, I left you a long note of apology for my irrational behavior." She paused with a heavy sigh. "I told you all the things I cannot put in words, then I went down to take care of our guests. I never returned to our chamber until you didn't show up for dinner." She pulled herself into a sitting position on the bed beside him.

  "What of the wine?"

  "I never saw the wine before. I left nothing but the note," she insisted.

  "The note I got was only two words, and they did appear to be ripped from a larger sheet of paper. It said "I'm sorry", nothing else," he said wearily. Was it madness to believe her? He was too exhausted to be subtle. "Devon, if you did try to kill me, tell me now."

  She sprang from the bed in fury. "You accuse me of attempted murder and imply I'm crazy! My own father questions my sanity. I did not do this! I did not… I…." Sobs racked her body as she fled to the safety of the small adjoining chamber. He could hear her agonized cries echoing through the room.

  With a tortured groan, Liam rose from the bed and struggled to the door, pushing it open, and sitting on the bed beside her. Reaching out his hand, he stroked her hair through the sheer veil. "Don't cry, Devon," he entreated. "I believe you, but you must help me find the true culprit. Until I do, we're all in danger."


  Sniffling, she scooted away from his caress and propped up against the headboard of the bed. "I understand why you suspect me," she choked, gasping for air. There was a long silence. He could see her eyes glistening through the veil. "I don't want you to die," she said in a small, strained voice.

  He managed a grim smile. "Good, now help me back to bed and fetch me some breakfast so I can get well enough to get to the bottom of this."

  She sprang to do his bidding. "You're as white as your nightshirt."

  "I don't doubt it."

  Supporting part of his weight, she helped him back to the large bed in the master suite. "Do you hate me?" she asked. "Surely I've ruined your life by becoming your wife. You haven't known a moment's peace since you met me."

  His hand dropped to caress her full breast, and then moved under the veil to run along her fine jaw line. He gave her a warm smile. "Dear lady, since I met you I'm alive again. Alive with a love and desire I thought died with Sarah. If I had it to do over, I wouldn't change a thing."

  Devon gave a soft whimper as his hot lips found hers in a searing kiss. Reluctantly he pulled away, easing himself down in the bed. "I regret I don't feel well enough to pursue this," he said as she leaned over to tuck him in.

  "Rest," Devon ordered. "I'll be back soon with some food."

  ***

  Liam lingered in a state of malaise for the next few days, alternating between bouts of feeling better and moments of true illness. By the fourth day, his symptoms disappeared.

  He rose and dressed, prepared to get to the bottom of the poisoning. Now he had three incidents to deal with, Fenella's murder, Malcolm's poisoning, and his own. He corrected himself, maybe four if Frazer's death was not accidental. He checked Devon's room but she had apparently risen early.

  Liam made his way slowly toward the lower levels, pausing to stare out the narrow windows at the burned out shell of the wing Frazer added. It had been over a year and the structure still sat in ruin. Turning from the view, he continued on his way, stopping to enter Devon's old room.

  Moira said the Henbane Devon purchased still sat on the shelf in a blue crock. He spied the vessel immediately and moved over to check its contents. His mouth went dry when he stared into the empty container. Who else knew it was there? Devon, Moira, and of course him.

  Liam grimaced. Was he so blinded by love he couldn't see the truth? Devon was a fragile creature. He knew that from the beginning. Her terrible experiences at the hands of Frazer had left her a shell of her former self. If there was an answer, he must uncover it by first discovering the truth about Frazer Forbes' demise. Drawing in his breath sharply, he left the room.

  ***

  Going to the stables, Liam caught sight of Archie distributing fresh straw in the stalls. "Archie." The gray head popped up.

  "Is that you, Laird?" He leaned against his rake waiting for Liam's reply.

  "Take a break and talk with me awhile." Liam watched the servant feel his way closer.

  "Glad yer back on yer feet."

  "You heard about the poisoning?"

  "Nothin' gets by these ears, Milord."

  Liam grinned. "I remember, not even mice."

  Archie smiled. During their conversation, the servant succeeded in moving to within three feet of Liam by listening to the sound of his voice. "What can I do fer ye?"

  "I need to know what happened the night Frazer was killed." Liam watched the old man's smile fade.

  "Laird, the little miss did not try to poison ye. I'd stake my life on it. Under yer care, she is slowly comin' back to her own. Don't ask me to betray her."

  "If the truth will betray her, I have more of a problem than I thought. You must tell me what you know, it's the only way."

  Archie fidgeted, but Liam took his arm and led him to a bench by the door. They sat down and the old man let out a deep sigh. "I could see then," he said, drawing a gnarled finger across his sightless eyes. "I saw Frazer go for her. She 'ad taken up residence in the old wing when she was pregnant. She stayed there after she lost the baby."

  "She didn't sleep with him when she was with child?"

  "Not when she showed. He kicked her out when her belly blossomed."

  "Sick bastard," Liam muttered.

  "Devon was happy to be free of 'im, but she told me it wouldn't last. Frazer dragged 'er to his new chamber that night. He hadn't bothered her since the baby came, but he'd been counting the days. After two months… well, I'm sure he intended to force 'er back to his bed. Devon was terrified."

  "No one tried to stop him?"

  "Garyth stood in 'is path and Frazer 'ad him beaten. Then Lady Devon told all of us we must not interfere, that Frazer was her husband." Archie broke off staring blindly at the ground.

  "I'm not proud of the fact I obeyed 'er that night."

  "What happened then?"

  "I heard Devon screamin'. I went to the door an’ Frazer ordered me to leave. I would not go, so Lady Devon came to the door herself. She looked like an angel in a white nightdress…. She tol' me to go, and I did what she asked. A few hours later, everyone woke to find the fire. Garyth and I went in to find Devon. She was in the hall, just standin' there with the back of her dress on fire. Her lovely hair was burnin'."

  "I threw a blanket over 'er and we dragged 'er out the door, but she fought us, screamin' fer us to let her burn for the sin she 'ad committed."

  "Did she say anything else?"

  "When we got her outside, I took the blanket off and she looked me right in the eye and said she killed Frazer."

  "Does anyone else know this?"

  "Only Garyth and I heard her, then Moira came and we helped 'er get Devon safely away before Bryce heard."

  "Were you injured rescuing Devon?"

  The old man stood waving his hands in the air before him. "I went back into the fire to see fer myself. The smoke and ash was so thick. That's when the beam fell on my head. When I woke, Garyth had rescued me, but my sight was gone." He sank back to the bench and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Frazer deserved to die, but…. I've never told another soul this story."

  "How did Devon seem when she came to the door earlier that night? Was she afraid when she told you to leave," Liam asked.

  "She'd been cryin', but she was deadly calm when she came to talk to me. That was the main reason I left. She seemed so controlled. I thought everythin' was all right."

  "Your secret is safe with me," Liam promised. "Tell no one else this story."

  "No Milord, I would not." Liam patted his shoulder and took his leave, heading back to the castle.

  ***

  Moira looked up with dread when Liam cornered her in Devon's old room. Her hands held the telltale signs of her own nagging suspicion, the empty, blue crock.

  "I've been looking for you for over an hour," Liam commented, noting her terrified expression.

  "I… I threw the Henbane away last week, that's why it's gone," Moira stammered.

  "If that were true you wouldn't be looking for it in the crock."

  The rotund woman burst into tears. "She's like a daughter to me," she sobbed. "Someone else must 'ave taken it."

  "Moira, who else could have known? Surely Devon didn't make light of the fact she had poison in her room."

  "There are those who pry into other people's business," Moira insisted. "I can think of several who would try to the point the finger of blame at Devon. They 'ad only to search for the way."

  "Tell me who you suspect."

  "Well… I'm not sure, Milord. It could 'ave been Bryce, or the Duchess. Both of them would relish havin' Devon blamed for murder. It would be easy to cast the blame on ‘er. The child is unable to defend herself."

  "Except with Frazer?"

  Moira gasped. "What are ye sayin', Milord?"

  "I know what happened the night of the fire. I know Devon told Archie she'd killed Frazer."

  "I canna believe that old coot told such a blasphemous lie. It's not true," Moira denied. "The child was upset, she did no' know what
she was sayin'…. She blamed herself because she failed to save him."

  Liam ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "You can stop defending her. I'd like nothing better than to free myself of these terrible doubts." The woman before him was still as a statue. "Moira, you wonder too. I see it in your eyes. We must hatch a plan to uncover the true culprit. Are you with me?"

  "I'll do anythin' to find out about the poisonings and Fenella's murder, but Frazer's death was an accident, pure and simple."

  Reaching out, his hand grazed the older woman's cheek. "Let's both pray you're right." Liam sighed. "There could be two different people at work here. Fenella's murder may not be related to the poisonings. After all, she was stabbed."

  "Milord, how do you plan to expose the villain?" Moira asked.

  Liam grinned at her with a twinkle in his eye. "I think I have a key to one puzzle. Thus far I havena used it." She looked at him quizzically. "We're having a special dinner party this evening. Please go inform the staff. I'll deliver the invitations myself."

  Chapter Seventeen

  When Liam finally returned to the old master's suite, he opened the door to find Devon sitting by the fire.

  She rose when he came in. "Milord, it's good to you see you up and about. Are you sure you're well enough?"

  He studied her as she stood before him expectant of his reply. She wore a green velvet gown with a heavy gold-embossed underskirt. The emerald tunic laced in the front to display her tiny waist. A creamy overflow of full breast swelled enticingly over the bodice. Scalding memories of her wild beneath him assailed his senses as he moved closer.

  The one thing marring her appearance was the damnable veil covering her face from his view. All he could see was her profile, the shadowy suggestion of features beyond the obstacle. He thought about Archie's words…. "Her lovely hair was on fire," and remembered seeing the red line of scar tissue that ran teasingly up her back, disappearing into the mystery of all that was hidden beneath the black netting. How bad were her scars?

  If she would open up to him—uncover her face. Couldn't she see he loved her despite her scars? In their intimacy, all his gentle probing beneath her covering had given him a sense of concealed perfection. No hint of serious damage presented itself to his insistent touch.