by Lynsay Sands
“Actually, ’tis no’ that ye’re no’ ladies,” Alick said slowly. “’Tis more like ye’re family.”
Dwyn lowered her glass from taking another drink and turned to look at the younger Buchanan with interest, noting that the men were peering at him thoughtfully as he continued. “While Saidh and Evina are more rough around the edges, Murine, Jetta and Edith all behave with a certain . . .”
“Decorum?” she suggested when he hesitated.
“Aye. Decorum,” Alick agreed. “’Tis as if they pull on the mask o’ a lady when in the company o’ strangers. But they’re much more relaxed around each other and family. You and yer sisters just seem to no’ bother with the mask. Ye do no’ give those silly little titters other ladies use, or hide yer irritation or joy rather than express true emotion, and ye mention openly things that everyone sees and leaves unspoken. Ye act as though everyone is family.” He shrugged. “In truth, while I’ve no’ kenned ye long, I feel comfortable around ye already. I feel ye accept me without judgment. Ye feel like family.” He smiled. “I think Geordie’s a lucky man.”
Dwyn’s eyebrows flew up with alarm at that claim. “Oh, Geordie is no’ lucky. I mean, he’s no interested in me that way. He’s been very kind and kept company with me because o’ me hurting me feet, but he’s no’ interested in marrying. I heard yer brother Aulay telling his wife that Geordie had said so.”
“Aye, he did say that his first day home,” Acair admitted when Rory and Alick looked disbelieving. “But he was no’ very convincing and is most possessive o’ ye, lass. ’Tis why I flirted with ye so shamelessly, to give him a poke and help him decide what he really wanted.” He grinned and nodded when Dwyn turned to glance at him with surprise, and then added, “And it appears to have worked. He’s in talking with Aulay and yer da right now, and I’m thinking the lad’s definitely interested and we may be having a wedding here soon.”
Dwyn frowned at the suggestion, and picked up her drink to gulp some down as her gaze slid to the upper landing. Acair might think Geordie had changed his mind, but he didn’t know what had happened in the orchard and that it might have been witnessed. If Geordie had changed his mind, she suspected Aulay had changed it for him after hearing what they’d got up to. That was not something she wanted. Had Geordie wanted her to wife himself, that would be one thing, but she had no desire to have a man forced to marry her, and then resent her for it all the days of her life. Especially not Geordie, who had shown her such pleasure.
“Are ye all right, lass?” Rory asked suddenly, and when she glanced at him in question, he pointed out, “Ye’re rubbing yer stomach. Is it paining ye?”
Dwyn glanced down at herself to see that she was indeed rubbing her stomach, but then it was troubling her a bit. Probably just a result of her worry, she thought, and took another drink.
“So, we’re agreed?” James Innes asked. “We’ll have a ceremony here tomorrow, and hold a second ceremony and celebration at Innes for our people to witness?”
Geordie nodded impatiently. He was fine with that; he just wanted this over with so that he could go tell Dwyn he was marrying her. Or should he ask her? He wondered over that briefly, and frowned. Surely she’d be willing? He didn’t want her to marry him only because her father had agreed to it. He wanted her to want to be married to him, and her response to him in the orchard made him think she would. But they hadn’t known each other long, and she had mentioned those worries she had about dying on the birthing bed.
Geordie frowned as he recalled that. He didn’t intend to allow that to happen. In fact, he decided he’d best press Rory into promising to stay with them during the last weeks of her every pregnancy so that he was sure to be there to attend it. If anyone could see her safely through giving birth to their children, it was Rory. Geordie wasn’t losing her to the birthing bed. In fact, mayhap he should avoid spilling his seed in her. He could live without a child for a while. It was her he didn’t want to do without.
“That’s it, then,” Aulay said, straightening. “If ye’ll just both sign . . .”
Geordie glanced around to see Baron Innes bending to sign the marriage contract. When the man finished, he took the quill and signed his own name, the tension in him easing as he did. It was done. Dwyn would be his.
“I’ll just go talk to Dwyn and tell her—” James Innes began.
“Nay,” Geordie interrupted, straightening from the desk. “I will ask her first.”
Baron Innes raised his eyebrows at that. “There’s no need to ask, lad. The contract is done. She’s yours.”
“I will still ask anyway,” Geordie insisted.
Dwyn’s father shrugged. “As ye will.”
Geordie turned to head for the door, aware that the other two men were following. He led the way out into the hall, and was headed for the stairs, when he noticed the activity down by the garderobe. Alick, Uncle Acair, Jetta and Dwyn’s sisters, Una and Aileen, were all standing about outside the garderobe door, looking anxious. He was just wondering what was about when Alick glanced around and spotted him. The way his brother’s eyes widened just before he rushed toward them, his hands rising as if to soothe a skittish horse, immediately sent alarm coursing through him.
“What’s happening?” he asked sharply.
“’Tis fine. Do no’ panic,” Alick said soothingly. “Rory says she’ll most like be fine.”
“What?” he asked with alarm. “No’ Dwyn?”
His expression was answer enough, and Geordie went to move past him, but paused when Jetta now reached them too, and patted his arm, her face a mask of concern. “Dwyn is purging, Geordie. But Rory does no’ think the poison was deadly. Just one to make her ill.”
“Poison!” he bellowed with alarm, and nothing could have kept him from hurrying forward then.
“Aye,” Alick said as he, Aulay, Jetta and Laird Innes rushed to keep up with him. “’Twas in her drink. She complained her tummy was upset, and Rory grabbed a pitcher to refill her glass thinking a drink might settle her stomach, but then he suddenly stopped and sniffed her mug. The next thing we all knew, he’d jumped up, scooped up Dwyn and rushed away from the table. Both garderobes below were busy and he had to bring her up to this one. He was just in time too. She started retching just as I got the door open.”
“It was in her mug, no’ the ale?” Aulay asked behind him.
“As far as I ken,” Alick said with a frown.
“Go and check,” Aulay ordered, and Alick turned and hurried away to the stairs as Geordie urged Dwyn’s sisters aside so that he could get to the garderobe door. He reached for the handle, but paused as he heard the violent retching coming from the other side of the door.
“She’ll be embarrassed do ye see her getting sick like this,” Una said quietly. “She does no’ like to appear weak in front o’ anyone.”
“Aye,” Aileen said sadly. “She’s always had to be strong fer us, ye see. ’Tis why we are so determined to see her married. She was a good mother to us. She should have children o’ her own, and a husband to care for her, instead o’ always having to be the strong one.”
The words struck Geordie like a blow, and he turned to spear her father with a furious gaze. “Dwyn was nine when yer second wife died. I knew she helped take care o’ her sisters after that, but surely ye did no’ leave her to raise them on her own?”
“Aye, he did,” Una said, and he could hear the resentment in her voice. “She ran the keep too, and even took care o’ listening to the villagers’ complaints, and judging disputes.”
“She also arranged our betrothal contracts,” Aileen said quietly.
“Like Conran’s Evina,” Aulay said grimly.
“Dwyn wanted to do all that,” Laird Innes said with exasperation. “She kenned I was busy cataloging the different plants on Innes property, and writing me music, and she was always a lass who needed to keep busy. She was like her mother that way.”
Geordie scowled at the man, and turned back to Dwyn’s sisters. “Did sh
e oversee the men too?”
“O’ course no’,” Baron Innes said with irritation before either of his daughters could answer. “She was just a lass. My first took care o’ the soldiers at Innes.”
Geordie exchanged a grim glance with Aulay, and then became aware that the retching sounds had stopped and turned to knock at the door. “Rory? Dwyn? Can I come in?”
“Nay,” Dwyn moaned, even as Rory said, “Aye.”
“I told ye,” Una said now. “She’ll no’ want ye to see her like this, m’laird.”
Geordie scowled, and hesitated. He wanted to see that Dwyn was all right. But he didn’t want to upset her when she was feeling poorly. It was Aulay who made up his mind for him.
“Begin as ye plan to go on, brother,” he said solemnly. “Will ye be there to comfort her when she’s ill? Or leave her on her own to save her a bit o’ embarrassment?”
“Ballocks to that,” Geordie growled, and pulled the door open.
“Oh, nay!” Dwyn moaned, covering her face when she saw him entering the garderobe. “Please, just let me die in peace.”
“Ye’re no’ dying. I’ll no’ let ye,” he said firmly, moving to kneel next to where she crouched in front of the low wooden counter with its hole in the center that she’d no doubt been purging through moments ago. Rubbing her back, he glanced to his brother and asked, “She is no’ dying, is she? Jetta said you said she’d be fine.”
“Aye, she will be fine. She just will feel like she’s dying fer a bit,” Rory said on a sigh.
Geordie’s mouth tightened at that, and then he glanced to Dwyn. Her head was bowed, her hands over her face, and her long hair curtaining even that from his view. “Are ye done purgin’, lass? Would ye like to lie down, mayhap?”
Dwyn was silent and unmoving for a moment, and then nodded on a weary sigh.
Geordie picked her up at once, bundling her close to his chest when she tucked her face into his neck. He suspected she was trying not to let him see her, but simply turned to the door. Rory moved in front of him and stepped out first, then held the door for him, and Geordie carried her out through the small crowd.
“I will get my medicinals from downstairs and mix up something that will hopefully help settle her stomach at least a little,” Rory said, stepping up beside him as they moved through the silent group. “Which room do I bring it to?”
“Mine,” Geordie growled, glaring at Dwyn’s father in case he thought to protest. The man didn’t say a word though. It wasn’t until he’d reached the door to his room and Una rushed ahead to open it for him that he recalled the sisters were staying there anyway.
Murmuring a “thank ye,” he carried Dwyn to the bed and then paused briefly before simply climbing onto it and settling to sit against the headboard with Dwyn in his arms.
Her sisters were the only ones who had followed him into the room. They both now stood at the foot of the bed, staring wide-eyed at them. He ignored them and simply held Dwyn, hugging her tight to his chest for several moments, before easing his hold so he could rub her back.
“There, lass,” Geordie murmured as he ran his hand soothingly up and down her back. “Rory is fetching ye something to help settle yer stomach. Ye’ll feel better soon,” he assured her, though he wasn’t at all sure that was true. Rory had said she would feel like she was dying for a bit, after all. Not that she would feel like she was dying until he gave her something to feel better.
“I’m sorry I’m such a bother,” Dwyn mumbled against his throat, and Geordie grimaced as his body responded to the unintentional caress. Dear God, the woman was ill and he was still sprouting an erection from just holding her and having her lips at his neck. Thank God he had set her in his lap and her sisters couldn’t see the proof of his insensitivity, he thought, and then realized Dwyn could probably feel that proof under her bottom and no doubt was disgusted with him.
Sighing, he pressed her to his chest in a half hug, and muttered, “Ye’re no’ a bother. And none o’ this has been yer fault.”
“Well, obviously I’ve angered someone,” she pointed out reasonably.
“Everyone here likes ye just fine too,” he assured her.
“Not everyone,” she grumbled.
“Aulay and Jetta like ye,” he assured her. “Aulay told me so.”
“Did he?” she asked with surprise, and then said, “That’s nice. I like them too.”
“And I’m quite sure me other brothers and me uncle like ye as well. They all seemed to be enjoying yer company when I left with Aulay to talk with yer father,” he pointed out.
She went still and silent for a minute, and then asked, “What were ye talking to me father about?”
Noting the curiosity on her sisters’ faces, Geordie smiled wryly, but tried to think of a way to avoid answering that. This was not the moment for him to ask her to marry him. Fortunately, a knock at the door saved him from trying to come up with something to say that avoided the subject of marriage.
Una moved to answer it, and much to his relief Rory entered with a mug in hand.
“I decided a sleeping draught might be the best solution here,” Rory announced as he approached the bed. “Nothing is likely to settle her stomach, but if she can keep this down long enough, she can at least sleep through the discomfort.”
Geordie nodded at that and glanced down at Dwyn. “Can ye sit up, lass, and drink what Rory brought fer ye?”
Dwyn sighed against his neck, but reluctantly straightened and held out a hand for the mug Rory held.
“Ye might want to pinch yer nose, lass,” Rory said before giving it to her. “With yer stomach as sensitive as it is just now, the smell may have ye retching again ere ye can even drink it.” Glancing around then, he spotted the ewer and bowl on the table, and said, “Can one o’ ye lasses bring the bowl over in case she canno’ keep this down?”
Aileen hurried to the table, set the ewer aside and brought the bowl over to the bed.
“Go ahead,” Rory said after taking the bowl from her sister. When Dwyn immediately plugged her nose, he offered the mug. They were all silent as she gulped the liquid down, and Geordie took the opportunity to look her over. Her face was pale, and there were tracks on her cheeks. Tears had obviously escaped her eyes as she’d purged. He wasn’t surprised. Even muffled through the door, her retching had sounded violent. But she was still beautiful to him, Geordie thought, and then quickly took the mug from her when Dwyn suddenly froze, her eyes widening with horror.
Even as he set the mug on the bedside table, Rory was moving forward with the bowl Aileen had brought over. Geordie turned back just in time to support her shoulders and hold her hair back as she brought up the liquid she’d just taken in.
“How is she?”
Geordie lowered the hand he’d been rubbing the back of his neck with and glanced up wearily at that question from Jetta as he reached the trestle tables. “She’s finally asleep, but ’twas a long night,” he said quietly, and then shifted his gaze over the people at the table. It was morning, and the entire inhabitants of the castle appeared to be breaking their fast except for Dwyn and her sisters. Dwyn was sleeping. Her sisters were watching her while he came below to break his fast and find out what they’d discovered about who had poisoned Dwyn. His gaze stopping on Rory, he asked grimly, “What the devil was it she was poisoned with? She was retching all night.”
Rory opened his mouth to answer, paused and then sighed tiredly. “I am too weary to recall the name o’ the plant at the moment, but its only effect is to upset a person’s stomach and set them vomiting.”
“From what Alick said, it sounded like ye recognized the smell o’ it in her mug,” Geordie said quietly.
“Aye,” Rory said dryly. “It has a very recognizable, sickly sweet smell that ye do no’ forget once ye smell it, and with all the liquid gone, some o’ the crushed leaves were in the bottom o’ the mug, the smell faint, but there.” He grimaced and added, “The taste is no’ one ye’re likely to forget either, but it can be c
overed with a drink that has a strong flavor o’ its own.”
“But it would not have killed her?” Jetta asked solemnly. “So someone just wanted to make Dwyn sick?”
“I guess cutting her feet was no’ misery enough fer her attacker,” Geordie said grimly.
“What?” Rory said with surprise. “I thought that was an accident?”
“Nay,” Jetta said sadly. “The glass was not there when Dwyn entered the garderobe and Aulay and Geordie think it was spread on the floor deliberately so that she would cut herself on the way out.”
“The glass was evenly spread wall to wall rather than in any kind of circular or star-shaped pattern,” Geordie explained, not surprised Aulay had shared what they suspected with his wife. “And the torch by the garderobe was out.”
Everyone was silent for a minute, and then Alick said, “Well, Geordie, the good news is that ye’ve picked a bride someone just wishes to torment and no’ kill like the rest o’ our sisters-in-law. That makes a nice change.” When everyone turned to look at him, he said defensively, “Well, it is.”
Geordie shook his head, and rubbed his tired eyes. He’d been awake all night with Dwyn. While she’d had moments where her stomach had seemed to settle briefly, as it had before he’d carried her out of the garderobe, those moments had been few, short and far apart. She’d spent the rest of the time retching, doing so long after there was anything to bring up. But the protracted retching had given her a headache, and begun to cause spasms in her stomach muscles. The additional symptoms had merely added to Dwyn’s misery.
It had been terribly difficult to watch her suffer so and not be able to do anything but hold her, rub her back and keep her hair back from her face. Geordie had been more than relieved when she’d finally fallen asleep as the sun rose. He suspected it was simple exhaustion that had allowed her to drift off, but when she’d slept for an hour without waking to retch again, and her sisters had insisted he should break his fast first, he’d judged it might be over and safe for him to come below briefly. He’d known the lasses had wanted to refresh themselves and change before leaving the room anyway, and his absence would give them the chance to do that. Besides, Una and Aileen had gone for dinner the night before while he hadn’t, and had managed to drift off to sleep on pallets Aulay had ordered brought into the room for them. With nothing to bring back up, and with Dwyn growing weaker as each hour passed, her retching had become much quieter. Even so, he didn’t think he could have slept through it and didn’t know how they had.