by Mary Wine
Gahan stepped up and actually gripped her arm. It wasn’t his grip that hurt her, though; it was the sight of Norris walking away. The night of tension began to take its toll on her. She shivered, and her knees knocked as she tried to walk. The need to vomit almost overwhelmed her though there was nothing in her stomach. Gahan looked at her oddly and moved closer, intent on lifting her off her feet. She drew in a stiff breath and leveled her chin before he could carry out his intention. There was only one man she wanted cradling her.
Isla caught up to them, having been separated from her during the questioning. “They made her sleep in the star chamber again and refused her a meal this morning.”
Gahan growled softly and looked at the men behind him. “Clear a path up to the lady’s solar.” He looked at his sister. “Three of ye escort me sister to the kitchen.”
His tone was as solid as stone. His men responded instantly, clearing the stairs. No one protested when they opened the door to the solar and inclined their heads while she entered.
“Really… I am nae hungry, and the star chamber is a fine one.”
Gahan reached up and tugged on the corner of his bonnet, but there was something burning in his eyes that didn’t fit with the meek gesture. He waved the retainers back, and the door closed behind them.
“Yer place is here.” His tone was soft but unyielding. “Only a guilty person would believe they should accept being pushed out of their place.”
His words rang with a solid truth, one that made her lift her chin with pride. He offered her a nod before leaving her.
The moment she heard the doors close behind her in her chamber, her body won. Her muscles refused to hold her up any longer, and she sank down into a chair near the window.
She owed God more thanks than she would ever be able to voice.
***
Sandra Fraser was frightened. No! She was never afraid! Girls who did not know how to manipulate the world into doing their bidding were victims of fear. She was confident; her mother had taught her how to be quick-witted and never allow a situation to overwhelm her.
Norris Sutherland would be hers! However, she needed to get rid of Daphne MacLeod; that much was clear. It was sad, actually, because she would have enjoyed breaking Daphne before throwing her into the gutter, but being the cause of her demise would also be satisfying.
Sandra hurried down the hallways, resisting the urge to duck into one of the storage rooms. She would only look guilty when she was found. There had to be a way to aim more suspicion at Daphne. Even if Norris didn’t believe it, he would have to hand her over if there was too much evidence against her.
First, Sandra needed to make sure she wasn’t caught with the remains of the poison. She ducked into the garderobe and pulled the little flower hair ornament from her hair. It was such a shame to lose it. Many artisans wouldn’t even make them, because they feared being tortured when someone fell victim to the poison hidden inside of them. But she couldn’t be caught with it. She held it out over the seat and pulled her arm back before releasing it. What if she became a victim herself?
Sandra opened the center of the flower and gauged the amount of poison left. She would have to be very careful. If she took only half a dose, it wouldn’t kill her.
Yes… yes… The plan began to form quickly. She heard people in the hallway, confirming that Norris had ended Daphne’s trial. She used her fingernail to scoop up some of the paste and pushed it into her mouth without hesitation. The second dose was hard to force down her throat, because she was already gagging. Nonetheless, she managed it and closed the flower before dropping it into the toilet.
It sank beneath the muck, giving her a moment of satisfaction. Then her body began to convulse. She fought the urge to vomit, needing to be weakened by the poison. It would be the only way to damn Daphne MacLeod. So she managed.
***
His father had never looked worse. Norris stood near the bed and lowered himself to one knee to be closer. He could hear the soft rattle of his father’s breath. It sounded dry and brittle, like a winter blizzard. Like death…
He refused to count his father dead while Lytge still drew breath. It wasn’t easy to cultivate hope when he looked at the pasty-white skin of his sire’s face. His lips were pale, and he was as still as death.
Norris shook his head. If he was going to think of death, it would be the demise he had planned for Sandra Fraser. There was no doubt in his mind who the culprit was. But there was doubt aplenty among his people…
He didn’t want to doubt he could clear Daphne’s name, but if his father died, it was very possible there would be no way to prove her innocence. It was also possible his father would side with his captains.
Norris growled and stood up. He would not be torn over the issue of hoping his father lived. If fate wanted to test him, so be it. He turned toward the door and the battle waiting for him. There was no way he would allow Daphne to be lost.
***
“Grinding yer teeth will nae solve this puzzle.” Norris shot Gahan a glare and shook his head when he noticed the dark circles ringing his brother’s eyes. They were both exhausted.
“She’s the guilty one. It’s undisputable now that Clarrisa found that sleeping draught in the cider,” Norris muttered. He was only repeating what he’d said several times already.
“Ye can bet the bitch will dispute it,” Gahan snapped. “I imagine she will nae be quick to offer a confession on poisoning our father, either.”
There was raw violence in his brother’s tone and rage in his dark eyes. Norris paced back and forth in front of his father’s private table in his sanctum.
“Those damned pages are nae going to make it easy for me to confirm that one of them left me father’s goblet unattended on the high table.”
“Nae,” Gahan confirmed. “They are protecting one another.”
Someone pounded on the door and threw it open before Norris gave permission. Asgree was flushed from running. She stumbled when she tried to lower herself, because she was in such a hurry. “We found… Sandra… She’s been poisoned.”
***
His father’s captains were already assembled outside the room Sandra Fraser had been taken to. Their faces were grim as they looked through the doorway at the flurry of activity near the bed. The oldest, Ronald, shot Norris a hard look and spoke up. “This is damning evidence. There is only one who would gain from both yer father and Mistress Fraser being dead.”
“Ye’re forgetting meself, Ronald.” The other captains shook their heads, but Norris nodded. “Aye, meself. Ye heard that correctly. I want Daphne MacLeod for me wife, and Sandra Fraser knows it well.”
Ronald looked back at the woman convulsing on the bed. “Ye can nae mean to suggest that she poisoned herself? No one would do such a thing.”
“It makes sense when ye hear from Broen MacNicols that the cider we all enjoyed at Deigh Tower was laced with a sleeping draught. I was under its influence when Sandra snuck into me bed.”
“Ye have proof of that?” Ronald asked.
“Proof the cider was tampered with,” Norris responded. “Lady MacNicols found the evidence the next day, after the cider claimed another victim—the brewmaster. They sent a hawk to Chisholms’s land to intercept me. Thank Christ the bird flew straight and true.”
“That is nae proof it were Sandra Fraser who done the deed,” Ronald argued, looking past the doorway at the woman suffering inside the chamber. Her moans were pitiful.
“She was the only one who claimed to have any memory after drinking that cider, and she somehow made it into me bed.”
“It would nae be the first time a man woke up with a lass after raising a few mugs of cider.”
Norris felt his temper nearing the breaking point. Ronald had the other captains agreeing with him.
Always dispense
justice, Son, else ye’ll be no more than a tyrant… and men do nae truly follow tyrants. Nae when it matters, that is. Remember Sauchieburn. The king was a man who did nae give his subjects any respect. He treated them like cattle and, in the end, they left him to his deserved fate.
His father’s words echoed in his mind, rising up from a memory that was branded deep into his subconscious. It wasn’t his father’s message that bothered him so much; it was the way his father’s captains were looking at him with doubt.
“Now is nae the time or place. We needs hear from Lady MacNicols and their brewmaster to see if more light might be shed upon the matter. Once me father awakens, he can make it clear what he approves of and does nae wish.”
Ronald nodded. “And if yer father does nae awaken?”
“He will,” Norris announced. He turned and left his father’s men, but not before he saw approval in their eyes. He just wished the sight brought him more confidence than it did. Instead, he walked away, struggling to fend off the doubt trying to destroy his happiness. How could he be so close to having life become the perfection he’d heard of only in ballads, only to have fate turn against him? He wanted to believe it would be resolved, but too many factors seemed set against him. For the first time in his life, he considered leaving Sutherland. The idea gained strength as he made his way up to the chamber Daphne was being held in. His father still lingered, tearing his emotions. However, the moment he opened the door and caught sight of Daphne, he knew without a doubt he’d leave everything behind if it was the only way to spare her life.
***
Daphne could not sit and make lace. None of the books seemed able to hold her attention. The solar was filled with all manner of fine entertainments, and all she managed to do was pace. Around and around until at last she heard the door opening. Relief surged through her to be done with waiting.
Despite that relief, when the door opened, she trembled. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt heat flushing her cheeks. For a moment, she stood frozen, simply content to stare at the man she’d missed so greatly. Norris filled the doorway and ducked to enter the solar. Fatigue was etched into his face, but what captivated her was the welcome she witnessed filling his eyes.
He held out his hand. “Come, lass. I’ve a mind to hide from the world. It has been most unkind as of late.”
There was no careful thought, only pure enjoyment as she placed her hand into his. For a moment, his gaze was locked with hers, and there was an answering flicker of bliss in his green eyes.
He turned and pulled her out of the chamber. His retainers tugged on the corners of their bonnets and also stared at their clasped hands. A soft chuckle followed them up the stairs, making her blush hotter. Norris spun her loose once they entered his chamber. The windows were open, allowing the sound of the sea inside. There was no sign of Bacchus. Norris looked for the peregrine, frowning when he was sure the raptor was definitely not there.
“Are ye hoping for word from someone?”
Norris untied his sword and placed it on the rack near his bed. She heard him make a low sound of frustration as he turned to look at her.
“Will ye run away with me, Daphne? Live common but free at me side?”
Sincerity shone in his eyes, and it twisted like a dagger through her heart.
“I would never take ye away from here. Ye are a part of this place, these people.”
Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but love him more for making the offer. Tears filled her eyes, and he growled softly, moving toward her and cupping her face. He leaned down to kiss one wet track and then the opposite one.
“Maybe I am a fairy after all.”
He lifted his head, staring at her in obvious confusion.
“I destroy the men who are drawn to me.”
Norris hooked her around the waist when she would have stepped away from him. She pressed a hand against his chest but wasn’t really interested in fending him off. She ended up in his embrace, and as she inhaled the scent of his skin once more, it felt like happiness had completely surrounded her.
“Ye complete me, lass.” He lifted her chin so their gazes met. “Ye brought me a gift I did nae even know I needed, and I refuse to allow Sandra Fraser to destroy it.”
“Running away would do that.” He shook his head, and she slid her hand along his jawline to stop him. “I am nae going to allow her to frighten me away. Only a guilty person would run.”
Admiration shone in his eyes, flickering hotter and brighter until it was an emerald blaze. He tightened his arms around her and swung her up and off her feet, turning in a wide circle as her feet flew out like a child’s. They laughed like youngsters, long and loudly, finally spinning to a stop near the bed. Norris placed a kiss against her mouth, softly and sweetly, before trailing more kisses down the column of her neck. She slid her hands up his chest to seek the buttons at the top of his doublet and gently loosen them. Need and desire built slowly, remaining hot as they refused to hurry. He petted her and stroked her skin as he helped shed her clothing. She pinched out the candles, seeking the darkness where only the ruby glow of the fire would illuminate the chamber. The window remained open and allowed the sound of the crashing waves into the room.
Daphne was only interested in discovering once again how warm her lover’s skin was. She opened his collar and cuffs, and helped him set his kilt aside once his belt was loosened. She bent over and pulled off his boots, narrowing her eyes in mock scolding when he looked down her chemise.
He wouldn’t allow her to disrobe. He cupped her face and held her steady for a kiss. It was everything she’d yearned for since his departure. The soft pressure before he boldly tasted her with a firm thrust of his tongue. She kissed him back, growing more desperate for a deep taste of him. Need twisted through her. This time it was harder, more necessary to her very survival.
He was right; the world was not kind, but his embrace was her haven. She stroked his chest, trying to absorb his strength as he trailed kisses down her throat.
“I do nae care who calls me weak… it was a torment being parted from ye, lass.”
His voice was a mere whisper. A dark delight that complemented the moment.
He tumbled her into the bed, joining her, and they each tried to immerse themselves in the other. For the first time, the need for satisfaction was ignored in favor of savoring each other. Each touch was precious, and neither rushed toward climax.
It came at last. Daphne unsuccessfully fought back tears. Norris wiped them from her cheeks as he held her close.
“I will nae lose ye, Daphne. I swear it.”
In spite of the fact that he whispered, she heard the determination in his tone. She tried to soak it up, but the harsh circumstances prevented her from being truly comforted.
“I love ye, Norris.”
He growled softly and cupped her chin. When their gazes locked, his eyes were red from the light of the coals. “Do nae ye dare doubt that we shall prevail.”
“Yet ye do,” she accused softly. “Should nae I strive to be yer partner in all things? Is that nae the way of a common-born man and his wife? Do nae insist I stand by while ye shoulder all the burdens of our life. Lovers share all.”
He chuckled softly and stroked her cheek gently. “And what do ye know of being a lover, lass?”
“That ye are learning just as I am, Norris Sutherland, because ye have never loved before, either.”
He nodded slowly. “Aye, lass, ye are correct.”
Aye… correct.
But perfect was a better word.
She just wished perfection were not such an unnatural thing to find in the real world, because such thinking opened the door to the worry that had hounded her all day.
The world was not kind to lovers—not kind at all.
***
Norris didn’t want to sl
eep. He wanted to hold Daphne, stroke her skin and enjoy the sound of her breathing. But his body had other ideas. Despite that, he slipped into slumber, the days of hard riding taking their toll. The hours of the night passed too quickly. When he opened his eyes, the horizon was pink and gold.
There was a flap and flutter, and Bacchus glided in through the open window to perch on the curtain rod. The peregrine fixed him with its dark eyes and shook before settling.
“What was wrong last night is righted by dawn’s light,” Daphne muttered drowsily. She sat up, keeping an eye on the raptor as Norris stood up and untied the tiny leather sheath attached to its ankle.
Norris unrolled the strip of parchment and read the message. He nodded before moving off to begin dressing. Daphne struggled not to ask him what the message was. She bit her lip and mastered the urge to pry until she caught sight of the amusement lurking in his eyes.
“What did it say, ye marauder?”
He raised an eyebrow at her demand.
“And I recall very well the price of my curiosity. Since I plan to wed ye, unless yer captains want to hang me, tell me what it said.”
Norris’s amusement died instantly. “Me father’s damned captains will learn the error of their thinking today. Broen MacNicols is on his way with his brewmaster. The man has something to add to this matter.” He waved the scrap of paper in the air. “There are times I wish hawks were twice their size so they might carry more detailed messages. But it is glad news all the same.”
Norris was confident. Daphne tried to let it soak into her, but she still felt chilled. Her dreams had been full of the condemning looks of the Sutherland people as they pointed and cursed her. A knock sounded, and Isla entered with Gahan close behind. Norris was once more the heir to Sutherland; even his time while dressing was not his own. Isla shepherded Daphne to the outer room, where two maids waited to help with dressing her.
For once, she was grateful for their help, because her mind was not on the matter at hand. No, she was lost in contemplation of the fact that she might never see the chamber she stood in again. Norris might wish it otherwise, but she refused to allow him to give up everything he was. She loved him too much for that. If his father’s captains could not be appeased, she would leave him. Even if it killed her.