The Trouble with Highlanders (26 page)

Daphne was pushed back. She wanted to help; every muscle in her body was straining with the need to offer assistance. However, there was no way past the solid wall of men surrounding Lytge.

“Ye did nae have to poison him…”

Daphne turned. Her mouth dropped open as she came face-to-face with Sandra. She had no idea where the girl had come from, but her complexion was red and her hands clenched into fists.

“Ye did nae have to poison my father-to-be! It is nae his fault ye have no dowry!”

“I did nae…”

Her words were overshadowed as Sandra continued to scream at her, and she wasn't alone. Other women pointed at her, rage contorting their features. Cam pushed her behind him. He and Isla seemed the only ones not intent on accusing her.

Despite the tumult, Daphne was more concerned with Lytge. His body contorted, twisting in agony, and his face turned as red as sunset. Men made the sign of the cross over themselves, and women began to pray. Once of his older captains looked up.

“Fetch a priest!”

Silence fell over the hall, allowing everyone to hear the sounds of the men running down the aisle toward the church. Each footfall felt like it pierced her heart.

Lytge Sutherland surprised them all by living to see the dawn. The priest still gave him last rites, because no one expected him to rise from his bed, except perhaps as a specter. His captains were grim faced as they debated what to do.

Daphne didn't sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the fingers pointing at her. She paced around the confines of the star chamber, freezing every time she heard the door move. It was impossible not to think retaliation might land upon her.

It ended up being only the wind, but she couldn't dismiss her fear. It was like a living thing inside her. It felt like a bird, flapping its wings frantically to be free. She paced some more, every moment expecting to hear the bells tolling the news of the earl's passing. Each hour felt like a year. And yet, part of her wanted to savor every moment, because she feared it might be her last. Many had taken Sandra's words to heart and looked at Daphne with hate. No one came with wood for the fire, and more retainers had arrived to guard her door.

Damn
Sandra
and
her
accusations…

Her temper flared up, keeping her warm, and she didn't bother to counsel herself to forgiveness. Sandra Fraser would receive no kindness from her. It would seem they had something in common at last. They hated each other. The emotion was so strong it threatened to consume her. Daphne warned herself to keep the blaze of hatred under control, because she would not become like Sandra. Norris was not a possession; he was the man she loved. Nonetheless, it was possible his own people might hang her before he returned. If Sandra had her way, Daphne would never see another sunset.

***

“Enough of this indecision.” Sandra Fraser walked boldly into the private chambers of the Earl of Sutherland. His captains were seated there and glared at her for interrupting. “Daphne MacLeod should be hung. Immediately,” she announced. “A message needs to be sent to anyone who would harm a Sutherland.”

There were eight men in the room, all of them wearing three feathers in the sides of their bonnets. Two were pointing up, the third down, declaring their status to the rest of the clan. Sandra refused to allow their rank to intimidate her. Her potion had failed her, so it was up to her to salvage the situation.

“Daphne MacLeod was alone with the earl—”

“So were ye,” one of the captains remarked.

“But he did nae collapse after meeting with me,” Sandra said, defending herself.

“That does nae absolve ye of being the one who poisoned him.”

Sandra drew herself up as regal as a queen. “How dare ye! I had no reason to harm me future father-by-marriage. Daphne MacLeod is the one who needed to make sure Norris did nae have a father any longer. It's well known Norris respects his father. If his father were gone, she would have the chance to remain here and tempt Norris back into her bed. The MacLeods are destitute. Even a Sutherland bastard would help them bleed Sutherland dry.”

Some of the captains glanced at one another, silently agreeing with her. Sandra walked slowly among them, keeping her steps even and enticing to dull their wits. She drew in a deep breath and ordered herself to relax. This was not the first time she had twisted men into doing her bidding.

“Daphne MacLeod has bled, and Norris knew it before he left.” She turned and looked at them. “He told me how relieved he was to be rid of her hold on him. She doesn't want to return to her lands and the shame of being a soiled woman. The earl swore to me he was going to see her on her way this morning. That is why she poisoned him, and do nae think she will content herself with only one victim. One of ye will be next, or perhaps meself, if we do nae take action to protect ourselves.”

“Perhaps… we should question her,” one of the captains offered. “And any who might offer evidence in this matter.”

“Aye.”

“A sound action.”

The captains agreed, and Sandra bit her lip to hide her displeasure. She needed more anger from them, more passion. Daphne needed to be gone before Norris returned, or all was lost for her.

***

The cook of Dunrobin had his bonnet completely off and was busy worrying the edge of it with his fingers. The great hall was deathly silent, something he'd heard only in the darkest hours of the night. Most of the benches were full. The day's tasks were left undone, because everyone wanted to hear what Daphne had to say. Hear her interrogation, actually.

She held her chin up and stood in front of the table where she'd had supper with Lytge the night before. The cook was on one end, while she stood to the left. Yes, in the sinister corner, already convicted it seemed.

“I found her in the stillroom, sure enough, and she never asked permission or made it known she was going in there,” the cook said.

“Did ye have the keys?” one of the captains asked.

“I did, indeed, but we were preparing for a feast, so many of the cabinets were unlocked throughout the day.”

There were whispers in the hall, and the oldest captain slashed his hand through the air. Silence returned immediately.

“Ye are dismissed. Return to the kitchens.”

The next man called was one of the retainers whom Lytge had sent away from his private chamber the night before.

“The earl sent ye away?” the older captain asked.

“Aye, he did. He was in a dark humor,” the retainer answered.

The whispers began again. This time, even a slashing motion wasn't enough to quiet them quickly. Daphne could feel the noose tightening around her throat. She suddenly resented the years she would be deprived of. Nevertheless, she wasn't willing to quit.

“I did nae poison the earl,” she stated in a clear voice.

The hall erupted into chaos. Men shouted, and women pointed at her.

“And why in the hell would she have, when I'd asked the lass to wed me before I left?”

People turned around so fast, several ended up sprawled on the floor. Benches toppled over, but Norris didn't pay any attention to it. He paused for a moment at the end of the aisle, shooting a furious look at his clan members.

“And why the hell are nae the lot of ye in church, where yer jabbering might do me father some good?”

Norris was furious, but he was the finest sight she'd ever seen. Daphne couldn't stop herself from moving toward him. One of the younger retainers set to guard her put his arm out to stop her. There was a snarl from Norris as he came down the aisle at a near run. “Get yer hands off me wife-to-be!”

The captains had risen, but Norris wasn't impressed with their show of respect.

The oldest captain spoke up. “Ye should nae shelter her. Even the laird's family is nae above justice when the crime is one of attempted murder.”

A muscle on the side of Norris's jaw twitched, and she was sure she had never seen him so angry. He drew in a stiff breath and glared at his father's captains.

“I am not afraid of their questions,” Daphne insisted. “For I have nothing to hide.”

Norris lifted his hand. Everyone waited on his next words.

“If ye are going to investigate this matter, I am left wondering why me father's page is nae here?”

The captains looked startled; then one of the younger ones spoke. “We believe the earl was poisoned when he took Mistress MacLeod into his private chambers and dismissed his retainers.”

“The definition of an investigation is that ye question everyone, nae just the person ye would like to find guilty of the crime,” Norris growled. “Ye are finished here, and ye may thank Christ for the fact that Broen MacNicols sent a hawk to Faolan Chisholms with news that had me ride through the night to return home. There would have been hell to pay if ye harmed me bride.”

The young captains ducked their chins in the face of Norris's displeasure, but the older captain still refused to bow. “If she truly is yer choice, ye must allow this investigation to continue, else there will never be an end to this matter.”

Norris didn't like what the man had to say, but the whispers that rose up behind him could not be ignored. “Then it will proceed once I've had some time to make sure anyone who might have had a hand in this is nae overlooked.”

Gahan suddenly appeared and shook his head. Norris sent a hard look at his father's captains. “Where is Sandra Fraser?”

Even Daphne was confused, for the girl had been standing nearby just a few moments ago. An icy touch settled on her nape, and she pointed to where Sandra had last been.

“Find her,” Norris barked. Gahan directed Norris's men while the hall erupted into movement.

Daphne didn't get a chance to breathe a sigh of relief, because Norris caught her up against him, squeezing her so hard she couldn't draw breath. She didn't care. It was the most perfect embrace ever. He buried his head in her hair and inhaled.

“I'm so sorry, lass. I swear I will never leave ye so unprotected again.”

She trembled, wanting nothing more than to remain in his arms, but the activity around them stole his attention. He stepped back and cupped her face. For a single moment, his expression softened.

“Forgive me, lass, but I can nae leave yer safety to chance.” He rubbed her cheeks for just a moment before releasing her. “Gahan, make sure she is secure. I must see me father.”

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.