Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3

by Ceci Giltenan

  “Give it to me. I will see she drinks it. She won’t get better otherwise.”

  “I’ll come with ye. I want to give Fallon a break. Worrying herself sick over Gillian will do no good.”

  “I have nothing pressing this afternoon. I will sit with Gillian for a while.”

  “Ye needn’t. I am so worried about her. I want to tend her for a while.”

  Rhiannon looked at her sternly. “Lana, I didn’t want to say this to ye, but I fear ye have been too soft on her. Ye and the laird both let her have her way. She would be up and fighting this if ye didn’t. Ye are letting her give up.”

  “That’s not true. She is much worse today than she has been. She simply can’t get out of bed.”

  Rhiannon patted her arm. “I know ye think ye are doing what is best, but perhaps if I try I will have better results. See to things down here and unless the devil has her completely in his grasp, I will get her up.”

  “If ye really think ye can, I suppose that is best.”

  Rhiannon took the tisane from Lana. “It is best. I will send Fallon down. See that she gets some fresh air. We wouldn’t want the black bile building in her either.”

  “Oh dear, I didn’t realize that could happen. Nay, we can’t have that. Send her down.”

  “Of course, Lana.” She sniffed the cup. “I think this needs to be a bit stronger. Is the packet of herbs in her room?”

  “Nay, I have it here.” Lana reached into her pocket, producing the packet.

  Rhiannon took the packet from her and continued up the stairs. She knocked softly at the door and entered.

  Fallon smiled wanly when she entered. “Rhiannon, I was expecting Mother, but I’m glad ye’re here. Gillian is feeling very poorly today.”

  “Aye, so yer mother said. I’ll set her to rights though. I have her tisane here.”

  “She wouldn’t drink it this morning.”

  “I’m not deaf and I don’t want it,” snapped Gillian from the bed. “It isn’t helping anymore. Just leave me alone.”

  Rhiannon frowned. “Fallon dear, perhaps ye should go help yer mother. With yer sister abed, there is much to do. I will sort things out here.”

  Fallon went to Gillian’s side and caressed her cheek. “Gillian, I will go help mother but if ye need me for anything, send for me.”

  “I’m sorry I was cross with ye, Fallon. Thank ye.”

  “It’s all right. I understand. I’ll be back later.” Fallon kissed Gillian’s cheek and left the room.

  Rhiannon crossed the room, put the mug containing the tisane on the table and pulled a small flask from her pocket, pouring its contents in the mug. “I understand ye are being very contrary today, Gillian. Yer family loves ye and only wants the best for ye. Lying abed and failing to take yer medicine isn’t very considerate. I thought better of ye than this.” Her words had their intended effect. Tears welled in Gillian’s eyes. “Now, I have prepared a new medicine for ye. I think it will pick ye right up. Be a good lass and drink it down.”

  Bodie growled from his spot on the bed beside Gillian as Rhiannon approached.

  Gillian put her hand on him. “Bodie, stop. It’s all right.”

  Gillian reached to take the mug from her. Bodie growled and snapped. Rhiannon pulled her hand away and took a step back. “Ye see, Gillian, even Bodie is upset by ye staying abed. He needs fresh air. I will just let him out, shall I?” She walked to the chamber door, opened it, and clicked her tongue. “Come on, lad. Ye want a nice run now don’t ye?”

  ~ * ~

  Gillian wasn’t sure why Bodie had snapped at Rhiannon. That wasn’t like him. She wouldn’t have stopped him if he did want to go out, but she was glad when he stayed put. “I don’t want him to go. He’ll be fine,” Gillian assured her.

  “If ye say so.” Rhiannon sat in a chair across the room.

  Gillian lifted the mug to her lips and took a sip. It was bitter as gall. She frowned.

  “Is something wrong, Gillian?”

  “It’s too hot, and it tastes different.”

  “Let it cool a bit if ye must, but the new medicine I added is a tad bitter.”

  For days Gillian had felt as if she were in a fog but for some reason she remembered something Fingal had said the evening after the hunt. He was talking about pain medicine. It’s bitter swill. But Gillian, it is what I tasted in the wine. She took another sip. Bitter swill was right. This tasted horrible. “What do ye think this new medicine will do?”

  “It will put everything to rights, dear. I should have thought of it days ago. Drink up.”

  What was Rhiannon doing? The wine she drank that night had a faint bitter aftertaste and yet it had put her into a deep sleep. This was almost impossible to choke down. If this was the same thing, there was enough in this mug to kill her. Rhiannon wouldn’t try to kill me. What possible reason could she have?

  The night of the hunt she had asked Fingal why anyone would want to kill her. He’d said, I don’t know what the reason might be, Gillian, but I am not willing to risk yer life simply because I don’t understand why it is in danger.

  She raised the mug to her lips again, taking another sip, shuddering at the taste. Bodie whined. The night of the hunt she had promised Fingal that she would accept a guard at all times, unless she was in this room with the door barred and Bodie at her side. What am I doing? Something is wrong. For whatever reason, Rhiannon is trying to kill me and Bodie knows it.

  She wanted to get out of bed, to escape, but she was so weak she didn’t believe she had the energy to reach the door. She had to make Rhiannon believe she was drinking the tisane. She put the mug to her lips again, but turned her head slightly away, letting the liquid dribble out of the cup and onto her pillows. The few sips she had taken were already making her a little drowsy but Gillian suspected Rhiannon would need to see that she drank much more if she intended to kill her. Still, maybe she could simply refuse. “I don’t like this, Rhiannon. I have had enough.”

  “Gillian, I am shocked by yer behavior. One would think ye enjoy being ill. Is that it? Do ye want to lie abed and have people worrying about ye night and day?

  “Nay, Rhiannon. I hate being sick.”

  “Then I will hear no more about the medicine tasting bad. Drink it.” Bodie growled again. Gillian felt like growling. She had never heard Rhiannon take that sharp, demanding tone with anyone.

  “I’ll drink it. But first, would ye send someone for the laird please? Perhaps ye are right about Bodie. He’ll go out with Fingal.”

  “I saw the laird leaving on horseback this morning. He isn’t back yet. Ye are stalling, Gillian. Drink yer medicine.”

  Gillian put the cup to her lips again and spilled more into the pillows. She shuddered again. It wasn’t an act. Even the bit of moisture left on her lips as she spilled it was foul enough to make her shudder. But half the mug was gone now.

  “Are ye beginning to feel better yet?”

  “I feel drowsy,” Gillian said honestly. She didn’t think she was in danger of losing consciousness but she needed to act the part. She lifted the cup again, spilling still more of its contents into the bed.

  “I knew this would work. It will all be over soon, Gillian.”

  “What do ye mean?” She poured the rest of the tisane down the side of her face and into the bedding. She rubbed her face drowsily, wiping away the moisture so Rhiannon wouldn’t suspect she hadn’t consumed the tisane. She handed Rhiannon the mug. “If there was something that would help me feel better so quickly, why are ye only just giving it to me now?” She yawned and blinked as if trying to stay awake.

  “Oh, dear me. Did I say it would make ye better? It won’t exactly do that, Gillian. Ye will be falling asleep very soon and ye will never wake up.”

  Gillian tried to act surprised. “What do ye mean I will never wake up? Am I dying?”

  “Yes, ye are. It has taken ye long enough. I thought ye would be dead weeks ago.”

  The meaning of her words sank in. “Have ye been poi
soning me? With the tisane?”

  “Aye, I have. But ye have a much stronger constitution than yer Aunt Meara.”

  “Aunt Meara too? But why?”

  “Has yer mother never told ye the prophecy?

  “Prophecy?” Gillian’s thoughts really were muddled. Perhaps the few sips she took had been enough. She forced herself to focus.

  “Aye, the prophecy about Fallon rising above the rest.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Ye are dying, Gillian, but if ye want a bedtime story while ye slip away, I will be happy to tell ye one. I’m sure ye’ve heard tell that I’m a seer?”

  “Aye,” she whispered, forcing her eyes open.

  “The Sight isn’t what people believe it to be. It is simply wisdom, the ability to read a situation and sometimes to help a prediction come true.”

  “What do ye mean?” Gillian’s voice sounded weak and reedy to her own ears.

  “Well, secrets are always a good place to start. Ye know yerself, not much stays completely secret within a clan and I am especially good at ferreting them out. Secrets make an excellent starting place for predictions. I assure ye, Gillian, yer mother has a deep dark secret that she believes no one knows.”

  Gillian gasped.

  “Surprised are ye? Well ’tis true. So, I simply used that knowledge to make the prediction about Fallon ‘rising above all others’. It was a truly brilliant prediction.”

  Gillian’s head was swimming. “I don’t understand.”

  “Aye, I’m sure ye don’t. Never mind. Another thing to remember is that the best predictions are those that people want realized. They will do everything in their power to fulfill such prophecies and yer mother wanted this prediction to come true. At first she thought she carried a boy who would rise to greatness. Of course my real hope was that the baby would be a girl who could marry my own son and I was overjoyed when the little raven haired beauty was born. I have worked for years to convince Lana to see Fallon betrothed to Coby.”

  “I thought that was mother’s idea.”

  “Well, she thinks it was. But ye’re father wouldn’t hear of a betrothal for Fallon before ye, and I had no interest in Coby marrying ye. Lana tried again when Meara was chief but she wouldn’t hear to it either.”

  “Good for Aunt Meara,” muttered Gillian.

  “Gillian, tsk, tsk. Meara might be alive today if she had agreed to it.”

  Tears welled in Gillian’s eyes.

  “As I said, she was much more cooperative than ye in that. But then, before Meara had been adequately mourned the king interfered and named Fingal MacIan as laird. Many in the clan were shocked that Lana didn’t encourage ye to enter a convent. She had been so wrapped up in the idea of Fallon’s destiny, it seemed the answer. But, Lana would never have allowed Fallon to marry Fingal and when ye married Fingal all of my plans were on the verge of crumbling when ye married Fingal. So she tried again. So far yer husband hasn’t agreed to the betrothal either. However, I’m sure the elders will agree when yer grief stricken mother begs them to settle Fallon with my son. Together Coby and Fallon will rule this clan.”

  Gillian could no longer keep her eyes open. She couldn’t stand to look at the evil glee on Rhiannon’s face any longer. “But ye would need to kill us both for that to happen.” She was so very sleepy. She needed to pretend the potion had had its desired effect anyway, but it wasn’t hard.

  “Aren’t ye the clever lass. Aye, I had to kill ye both. And now I have.

  As Gillian drifted off to sleep the last words Rhiannon said penetrated her consciousness. And now I have.

  Chapter 26

  Rhiannon watched Gillian for a few moments. Her breathing became slow and shallow but didn’t stop. She had given her much more than enough to kill her. It might have been enough to kill a horse, but Gillian had revealed her tenacity over the last few weeks and this had to work. Rhiannon should really have made sure the ill-fated lass was truly dead but she didn’t want to wait. Of course now that Gillian slept, it would be easy enough to put a pillow over her face and smother her. Rhiannon moved closer to the bed. Aye, that is what she would do. She reached across Gillian to grab a pillow. Bodie growled and snapped at her. She jerked away, but his teeth still managed to puncture the back of her hand. She sucked on it to stop the bleeding.

  The dog stood over Gillian, his teeth bared, growling. She couldn’t do anything with him there. She had to leave or the noise he was making would draw unwanted attention. “It doesn’t matter, ye mangy beast. She will be dead soon anyway.” She quickly grabbed the mug, rinsing it and dumping the water in the hearth. If anyone had tasted the residue they would know instantly that Gillian had been drugged. Rhiannon couldn’t risk that.

  Pulling the sleeve of her léine over her injured hand, she left the room and made her way to the great hall. “There ye are, Lana. Gillian took the tisane for me.”

  “Good. Thank ye so much. I am so worried about her. I’ll just go up and sit with her for a while. I hate to leave her alone.”

  “Actually Lana, she is sleeping and I believe she needs the rest. Perhaps we have been pushing her too hard.”

  “Are ye sure? Ye seemed so very certain about the black bile.”

  “Aye, and I am still convinced that is the problem. However, since trying to build her blood up hasn’t worked, I am going to reconsider a purgative to rid her of the black bile. That will be hard on her, so some rest before I give it is a good thing. Just don’t let Fallon or Ailsa, or any young woman for that matter, near her. We wouldn’t want the devil to find his way into them.”

  “Nay, of course we wouldn’t. I will let her rest for a while and keep the others away.”

  Rhiannon hurried out of the keep. When she reached the gate Tarmon asked, “How fares Lady Gillian today?”

  “I fear she is no better. She is resting now. I think a purgative is called for. I am going home to prepare it.

  “Mother, ye don’t look well,” Coby observed.

  “Truthfully, son, this whole ordeal has made me sick at heart. I just wish I could do more for the poor child.” She put her face in her hands and feigned a sob.

  Tarmon patted her on the back. “Rhiannon, ye have done what ye could to ease her suffering.”

  “But it’s just not enough,” she sobbed.

  “Coby, perhaps ye should help yer mother home. Clearly this is taking a toll on her.”

  Tarmon called up to one of the men on the wall. “Gavin, send a man down to guard the gate with me. Rhiannon isn’t well and Coby needs to take her home.”

  When they were well away from the village, Coby finally asked. “Is she dead yet?”

  “By now she probably is. I couldn’t risk waiting for the foxglove to work. Fingal sent for Laird and Lady MacIan. If she is any kind of healer at all, she would recognize foxglove poisoning. I couldn’t risk it. I had to get the herbs back. I gave her enough extract of poppy to kill her several times over. She isn’t our problem now but the laird is.”

  “What do ye mean?”

  “I knew when he became desperate enough he would grasp at anything. I told him he needed to collect two twigs from a rowan tree that he had never seen before and fashion a St. Andrew’s cross from them.”

  “How would that old legend help rid us of him?”

  She clucked. “Coby, when will ye learn to trust me? I sweetened the legend a bit. I told him the charm would be more powerful if he plucked the twigs from a tree growing in adversity. I took him to the cliff and pointed out such a tree growing from a fissure in the rock. After he leaned out to look at it, I gave him a little shove over the edge.”

  Coby stopped in his tracks and laughed aloud. “Mother, ye’re truly wicked.”

  “Malcolm’s illegitimate get should not be ruling this clan. Even if she couldn’t bear him any children, Nuala MacRae didn’t deserve what he did to her and I will see the insult repaid.”

  “Mother, ye do live by an odd set of rules. Ye still intend for me to marry Fa
llon don’t ye?

  “Of course I do. But don’t fall in love with that pretty face. As soon as she has produced a few heirs for ye, I will rid the world of her too.”

  “I almost feel sorry for Fallon.”

  His mother arched a brow at him.

  “I said almost.”

  “Well, we still have one tiny problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m not entirely sure the laird is dead.”

  “What? Mother, how could ye be so careless? Surely he noticed ye push him over the cliff. What happened?”

  “Don’t make more of this than it is. He went over the cliff but was caught in a tree about a third of the way down. I think he’s dead. I couldn’t tell for sure. At least he was unconscious, one arm was obviously broken and the back of his head was covered in blood. I suspect he cracked it open as he fell. If he is not dead already, he will be soon. Even if he regains consciousness, there is no way he can climb out.”

  “We can’t risk that. I’ll go up to the cliff and make sure he is dead. What did ye do with his horse?”

  “I left it where he tethered it. It will look more like he had an accident that way.”

  “This accident had better work.”

  “Well son, ye have fouled up all the other ones.”

  “So now this is my fault? The problem with making accidents happen, mother, is that they must look like accidents. Did ye expect me to stand up on the wall and throw a stone block at him? Someone would have noticed.”

  “Ye said ye had a perfect shot when ye were searching for those raiders.”

  “I did. I fell far enough back that no one saw me pull the bow. He turned away at the last minute. I couldn’t very well take a second shot. But ye were the one that gave me the drug for the wine the night I set the fire. Christ almighty, I was barely through the passage door when he woke.”

  “I gave ye more than enough in that to knock them out. I can’t help it that he didn’t drink it.”