Page 35 of Hunting for a Highlander (Highland Brides 8)

“They delayed the feast and dancing until tomorrow so ye can attend,” Aileen added as she turned to rinse out the linen in the water, and Dwyn’s eyes popped open with dismay.

“Oh, but—” Her voice died there and she moved her tongue around inside her mouth, trying to build up enough saliva to swallow and wet her throat. Aside from painful, her throat felt dry and scaly, and she was sure if she could just moisten it, she would be better able to talk.

“Oh, stop,” Una said from behind her as she continued to drag the brush through the tangles in her hair. “I ken ye want to protest that they should no’ delay it on yer account and so on. But they have and that’s that. Besides, ye deserve to enjoy a nice feast and dancing after all ye’ve been through here.” She made a sound of exasperation and then pointed out, “First, someone got yer feet all cut up, and now ye’ve been made sick—”

“No one got me feet cut up,” Dwyn managed in a raspy whisper. “That, unlike the poison, was an accident.”

“Nay,” Una assured her. “It was no’ an accident. The Buchanans think someone deliberately put the glass there after ye went into the garderobe so ye’d get yer feet all cut up.”

“It’s true,” Aileen said solemnly when Dwyn started to shake her head. “They have been talking about it all day, trying to sort out who could be behind that and poisoning ye.”

Dwyn’s mouth curved down unhappily at this news. She’d heard Rory saying that something had been put in her drink and that was why she was sick, but she hadn’t realized that they thought the glass on the floor had been deliberate too. It seemed she’d really angered someone here, and the only people she could think of who disliked her enough to perhaps do something like this were—

“Laird Buchanan sent Lady Catriona and Lady Sasha and their families away,” Una said with grim satisfaction, speaking the names she’d just been thinking.

Dwyn turned to glance at her. “They—?” She left the rest unsaid, mostly because she had no voice and it hurt to talk.

But Una understood what she wanted to ask and grimaced. “They canno’ prove it, but suspect they were behind both attacks though.”

“Aye, but that’s no’ the only reason he sent them away. In fact, he said without proof he would no’ have sent them away, but Rory and Alick were no’ interested in the lasses and they needed their rooms.”

When Dwyn’s eyebrows rose at that, Aileen explained, “They needed one o’ the rooms fer a new lass and her family who arrived today, and Una and I are moving to the other room so ye and—”

“So ye can rest and recover more quickly,” Una interrupted firmly.

“Oh,” Aileen said with dismay. “Aye, so ye can rest.”

Dwyn narrowed her gaze on the lass. Her sister’s eyes were wide, as if she’d just realized she’d nearly said something she shouldn’t have. Aileen never had been able to lie worth beans, but before Dwyn could question her about what she’d really been going to say, a soft knock on the door drew their attention.

“That’ll be Geordie. He said he would fetch back food fer ye,” Aileen said with relief, and rushed to the door.

Dwyn frowned, and stared after her sister, watching as she opened the door for Geordie to come in. He entered with a tray in hand that held a pitcher, goblets and a large platter of food. His eyes found her sitting up on the bed and a smile softened the grim expression he’d initially had on his face, and then he carried the tray to a small table and two chairs to the side of the hearth and set it down.

“They have brought out sweet pasties for the guests below, Una and Aileen,” Geordie announced as he picked up the pitcher and poured the liquid it held into the goblets. “Yer father asked me to tell ye that and send ye down.”

“I have no’ finished brushing her hair,” Una said, but was climbing off the bed as she did.

“I shall finish fer ye,” Geordie announced, turning with both goblets in hand.

Much to Dwyn’s amazement, her sisters nodded and immediately hurried out of the room, leaving her alone with Geordie. They even closed the door behind them, which really wasn’t proper at all. She should not be alone in a room with a male with the door closed. It was just—Come to think of it, she’d been alone with him and him in bed with her when she’d woken up, Dwyn realized now, and began to frown. That definitely hadn’t been proper.

“Here, Dwyn, drink.”

Blinking, she turned from looking at the door to find Geordie in front of her now, holding out one of the goblets. She stared at it blankly, and then lifted her gaze to his face, still trying to sort out why she was being left alone in a room with him with the door closed. Her sisters knew better than that, as did their father, but he’d apparently wanted them below . . .

“Can ye hold it?” he asked with concern when she hesitated.

Dwyn reached for the glass with one hand, but then quickly added her other hand to help hold it when she found she was indeed weak. The retching had apparently taken more out of her than she’d realized, Dwyn thought with disgust as she raised the goblet to her lips and sipped tentatively. It was mead, as she expected, and delicious, but she was almost afraid to drink too much and start retching again, so she started with the sip, and then lowered the glass to wait a moment as she swished it around in her mouth and swallowed.

“Mavis is arranging for a bath to be brought up once the water warms,” he announced, setting his own goblet down on the table. “It may take some time though.”

Dwyn murmured in response to that, and then stiffened in surprise when he crawled onto the bed beside her. When he continued to move around behind her, Dwyn glanced around to see him pick up the brush Una had apparently left there. Eyes wide, she quickly turned forward as he began to run it slowly through her hair.

For a moment, she just sat there, feeling odd and a little uncomfortable with everything, but when he murmured, “How is yer stomach? Is the mead bothering it?” she glanced down at the goblet she’d lowered to her lap, and took a moment to pay attention to her stomach. It seemed to have accepted the mead well, she acknowledged, and said with relief, “It seems fine with the mead.”

Her voice was still raspy and broken, and she wasn’t surprised when he urged, “Try some more.”

Nodding, she raised the goblet and took a larger sip this time, and again swished it around her mouth before swallowing. But when that stayed down and her stomach didn’t rebel, she took a proper drink, and then another as Geordie continued to brush her hair.

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