Page 24 of Dark Side of the Laird
I frowned, incredulous. “Ye think I’d kill ye to be rid of ye?”
“Have ye not done so to others?” She popped the cork on the whisky.
“I never kill when there is an easier solution.”
“Then promise me.” She held the decanter of whisky in the air, as if waiting for my agreement to pour.
I nodded. She took two cups aside, and glancing up at me as she poured, I was surprised to see relief in her eyes. Did she truly think I would have her killed?
Isabella stepped around the desk and brought me the cup. I decided in her case fear was a good thing.
“Sláinte,” she said.
“Sláinte.” I took the cup and downed the contents.
What felt like seconds later I woke with a raging headache, staring up at the ceiling of library. I was on the floor. The cold of the stones chilling my bare arse.
Bare arse…
“What in bloody…” I leaned up on an elbow, the light of the candles burning my eyes.
I was nude from the waist down, shirt tugged up nearly to my armpits, my plaid flung aside like a useless rag. A smear of blood streaked down my cock.
What the bloody hell happened?
Lady Isabella…
The last thing I recalled was her handing me the cup. Of me downing the whisky.
And then waking up like this. There was only one explanation and I was too much a fool to have seen it coming.
She’d drugged me. Same as she had the men. And…Mo creach… I stared down at my cock, at my naked abdomen and thighs. The woman couldn’t have…
She’d drugged me. Lain with me. If the blood was any indication, I’d deflowered her. Fuck. If I’d not been drugged this would have never happened. Never in a million fucking years. How could I have let down my guard? How did she do it? I watched her pour the whisky for Christ’s sake!
I pushed myself up, anger slicing through my veins in painful ribbons of regret. I whirled toward my desk where the flask and cups sat, and with a fit of rage upended it. The desk crashed against the adjacent wall, all its contents hurtling to the floor.
Traitorous bitch! I should have known better than to trust her. Should have refused a drink of truce. Set her on her way. Given her no choice but to leave Gealach. My idiocy caused me to betray the only woman I loved, the light in my forever darkness.
A painful stabbing gored my insides. Nausea from the poison and from what I’d done. I lifted my face toward the ceiling and let out a painful roar. Oh, God. I covered my hands with my face, feeling them shake over my stinging eyes. Emotions I’d never felt bombarded me, overwhelmed me. This couldn’t be happening.
I doubled over, unable to help upending the contents of my belly onto the floor.
I couldn’t tell Emma. She’d never believe me.
And I didn’t even know what happened. I couldn’t tell her, because what would I say? I picked up the chair and threw it toward the hearth, watching the wood splinter against the stone.
’Twas time I sought an audience with the king. I’d leave at first light.
8
Emma
“Over here with that, my lady,” Cook called.
The cellar smelled… I couldn’t quite describe the scent. Musty wasn’t the right word, it wasn’t damp, but cool and dry. Maybe earthy was a good word for it. I walked as gingerly as I could toward her, dodging women and men who helped us fill the cellar storeroom. Each of my arms was wrapped around a large sealed jug. We’d been preserving food all morning, an endeavor I’d never imagined before, but with winter coming, it was a task if not completed, the castle inhabitants could very well starve.
Then again… the amount of salt and brine we used in various jugs was giving me a serious case of salt-hate.
