Page 100 of Tempted
Tina felt utterly forlorn. Perhaps she should go to Ram and tell him what Colin had done. Suddenly she didn’t want him to think badly of her She wanted to be special in his eyes. She wanted him to love her! Why, why did she want him to love her? They were sworn enemies. She had vowed to take revenge for the insults he’d offered the Kennedys. But that wasn’t me, she told herself, that was a spoiled, willful girl. I’m a woman now, with a woman’s maturity, a woman’s needs. Soon I’ll be a mother, responsible for a child, his child. Dear God, how had things come to such a pass? He had loved her, loved her enough to want to marry her, and she’d scorned him and run off. Even then he’d given her another chance, brought her back. She had killed any love he’d had for her when she had repudiated his child. Now he had a disgust of her and likely wanted to be rid of her.
She went to the window and gazed with unseeing eyes down into the courtyard. Gradually she became aware of him standing in the bailey. He was soaked to the bone. She was immersed in guilt. What sort of a woman was she, for God’s sake? She would go down and order Mr. Burque to make him something special for supper—something spicy to ward off the chill. Then she’d lay out dry clothes for him and have the fire lit in his chamber.
Her hands went to her belly protectively. She carried the Douglas heir. It was his God-given right to inherit the title, the castles, the wealth that was Douglas. How could she throw it all away by refusing to wed her child’s rightful father? Was she that selfish, that self-absorbed, that self-centered? Life wasn’t a game. Life was infinitely precious!
Tina laid out Ram’s black doublet with the crimson Bleeding Heart of Douglas embroidered upon it. She held it to her lips for a moment and brushed a teardrop from her cheek. Suddenly her ears picked up the faint sound of someone raving and cursing. She sighed. It sounded like Mad Malcolm. She would go and visit him; perhaps if she listened to his ramblings it would quieten him.
As she climbed to the tower room, she couldn’t believe the way he was carrying on. Someone must have restocked his chamber with drink.
“Och, lassie, help me!” he cried, his eyes rolling in his head. “He’s goin’ tae kill me!” Malcolm was reeling drunk, and the fumes coming from the bed were overpowering as he thrashed about.
“Hush, Malcolm. Who is going to kill you?”
“Alex!”
“No, Malcolm. Someone told you Alex haunts the castle, but there are no such things as ghosts.”
“Nay, not Alex, the other. He put yon pillow ower ma face!”
“Hush, Malcolm. He’s gone now. You’re perfectly safe.”
“Christ, I’m no’ safe—yer no’ safe!” he howled. “He saw ma pages! He knows I’m goin’ tae expose his evil!”
“Damn it, Malcolm—who brought you all this whisky and wine?” Tina was angry This would never have happened if Ram Douglas had not overruled her orders. She went to the bed and straightened the covers. As Malcolm clutched her arm, she reassured him. “He’s gone now. I’ll get Jenna to sit with you.” She made a moue of distaste at the array of intoxicating drinks within his reach. Two jugs of whisky lay empty, but there were still half a dozen bottles and decanters of wine.
Tina explained matters to Jenna. “Don’t let him have anything more to drink. He’ll have to sleep it off.”
Malcolm was cursing a blue streak now, but his voice had lowered somewhat. Tina picked up two decanters as she left the room. As she descended the stairs, she saw that Ramsay was in his chamber. Without hesitation she swept in and deposited the decanters of wine on his table. “Malcolm is raving. He’s almost out of control with drink.” She saw that he had changed into the dry clothes she had laid out for him. The firelight showed her that his black, curling hair was still wet.
He took a step toward her. “Tina, I want a word with ye.” His swarthy face was like rough-hewn granite. The light from the fire cast his gigantic shadow up the wall and the foreboding feeling she’d had all day gripped her so fiercely, she felt faint.
Fear that Ram had seen the naked portrait swept over her, and she put her hand out to the back of a chair to steady herself.
Ram’s eyes narrowed. Quickly, he poured a glass of wine and closed the distance between them. “Drink this,” he commanded.
As she took the glass from his hand, her fingers brushed his, and a small shudder went through her. She lifted it to her lips and drained it. The moment she swallowed, she knew! He had just poisoned her!
Chapter 29
The glass fell and shattered. “No!” Tina cried, clutching her throat, her eyes filled with terror. Her throat burned and closed in a spasm. The poison peeled the skin from the back of her tongue and down her throat. Her mouth was filled with a bitter, acrid taste. The moment the wine touched her stomach, she doubled over, clutching her belly as pain tore through her midsection.
Ramsay knew immediately that she had just swallowed poison. Her cries were so anguished, they pierced his heart. He swept her up into his arms and began to run. “Hold on, hold on, no matter what, Tina!” he commanded. She was screaming and writhing with pain as Ramsay sped down the winding stone staircase to the kitchens. His own gut was knotted with fear. He had no idea what to do for her, but instinctively he knew that immediate action of some sort was imperative.
“Burque, Burque, where the hellfire are ye, man? Tina’s been poisoned, help me!”
Mr. Burque’s face registered shock, anguish, and fear. He had no clear idea what to do for her, yet because she was dear to him as a daughter, he knew he must do something. He had comforted her all her young life with bonbons and chocolate, had cured her toothaches and soothed her childhood cuts and burns with things from his kitchen. He shrugged helplessly. “Cream?” he asked Ram. “It might coat her stomach. Stop some of the poison being absorbed into her system while we purge her.”
“Yes, cream,” Ram agreed decisively.
She was sobbing and screaming, yet it did not sound like his Tina. Her throat was so raw, the sounds she made were husky, hoarse. Mr. Burque held the cream to her lips while Ram held her. She pushed Mr. Burque’s hand away hysterically. To make her swallow would be torture. “No, no, no,” she cried hoarsely.
“Force it down her,” Ram ordered, and held her wrists in a vise grip. They got about a pint inside her before she began to retch. Now Ram held her tenderly, his hands feeling the convulsive spasms of her stomach as he bent her over his arm with her head down to aid her vomiting.
Tina retched, heaved, and spewed; retched, heaved, and spewed. She gasped and choked, retched and heaved, until Ram wanted to run mad from the kitchens. Inside he was in a total panic. She was going to die. She was going to die an agonizing death, and there was little or nothing he could do about it.
She was exhausted now, yet her eyes were liquid with fear and dread. He had little knowledge of poisons save that they resulted in death, but there was one thing he could give her of which he had an overabundance: He could give her his strength. “Yell be all right love. I’m here. Hang on to me.”
She clutched him weakly. “More cream,” he ordered Mr. Burque. The cream acted as a purge, and Mr. Burque was greatly relieved. He had been rapidly going over the noxious nostrums that would purge her, but now they would not be necessary. There was very little could be done to counteract poison other than try to purge it from the body.
