Page 79 of Wed to the Highlander
Even a sheltered girl raised in Mayfair knew what the herb was used for. Her gaze went to her child, peacefully sleeping. How close he had come to never being here. She rushed to her cup and dashed the contents into the fire. “It’s no wonder I lost a taste for tea.”
“I found the tin containing the poisoned tea in her room. Along with this.” Fiona dropped everything she carried on the bed. “There are notes in her handwriting, proving she was behind it all. And someone else.”
“Who else?”
“I need to see the journal to be sure. The one from Anne MacPherson.”
Maggie knelt by the bed and reached beneath the mattress, pulling out the slim, worn volume. She handed it over without a word.
Fiona opened it with trembling fingers, flipping through it to the back, where pages had been added. The part when her madness had taken hold, the writing so disjointed, practically illegible, so that only bits and pieces made sense. Maggie looked on as she laid it beside what she brought: notes, a sketch, and a map of the castle.
“They’re a match,” she whispered. She swayed then staggered, gripping the bedpost for balance. “I hoped it wasn’t true.”
Maggie reached to steady her. “What wasn’t?” she asked, her voice low though her heart had begun racing.
Fiona looked up, eyes shining. “Lachlan. He’s behind everything.”
Maggie was stunned—speechless.
“I can’t—I won’t protect him,” she said, wiping away a tear.
“You love him,” Maggie murmured, roiling inside with fear and fury, but understanding the grief her friend was carrying.
“I did,” Fiona whispered. “But I don’t know the man who did this.”
“Neither do I.”
They turned. Duncan stood in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes dark.
“What did you hear?” Maggie asked, fearful of his reaction. Usually calm and cool-headed, when crossed, he was a bear poked one too many times.
“Enough to know my own brother has betrayed me,” he said, his voice icy. “That he tried to take everything from me. You, the clan, and our son before he was ever born.”
He ran a hand through his hair, eyes hollow, already blaming himself. “How could I not have seen it?”
“He fooled us all,” Maggie said.
“Including his wife,” Fiona added quietly.
Duncan crossed to the bed, scanning the evidence. He picked up the map and examined it more closely. Then he turned to the far wall. In a burst of motion, he shoved the writing desk aside, revealing the hidden door. Cold air rushed in as he found the latch and pushed it open.
Memories of the day she’d discovered it herself, made Maggie shiver.
“Lachlan and I played in the tunnels as lads,” Duncan said as he peered inside. “I do no’ recall this room.”
Maggie moved closer to the cradle, instinctively placing herself between Jamie and the door. “I found the journal in there. Lachlan went to great lengths to make me think I was losing my mind—the same as Isla. And Anne.”
Duncan looked at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Those were early days. I hadn’t come to trust you fully. And I was afraid you might think I really was like Isla and Anne.”
He rose and took her into his arms. “But you trust me now?”
“With my life.” Her gaze drifted to the cradle. “More importantly, I trust you with his.”
“I’ll go gather my boys and my things,” Fiona said on her way to the door.
“You’re not leaving,” Duncan said, his voice firm, every bit the laird.
