Page 33 of Hunting for a Highlander (Highland Brides 8)

Noting the curiosity on her sisters’ faces, Geordie smiled wryly, but tried to think of a way to avoid answering that. This was not the moment for him to ask her to marry him. Fortunately, a knock at the door saved him from trying to come up with something to say that avoided the subject of marriage.

Una moved to answer it, and much to his relief Rory entered with a mug in hand.

“I decided a sleeping draught might be the best solution here,” Rory announced as he approached the bed. “Nothing is likely to settle her stomach, but if she can keep this down long enough, she can at least sleep through the discomfort.”

Geordie nodded at that and glanced down at Dwyn. “Can ye sit up, lass, and drink what Rory brought fer ye?”

Dwyn sighed against his neck, but reluctantly straightened and held out a hand for the mug Rory held.

“Ye might want to pinch yer nose, lass,” Rory said before giving it to her. “With yer stomach as sensitive as it is just now, the smell may have ye retching again ere ye can even drink it.” Glancing around then, he spotted the ewer and bowl on the table, and said, “Can one o’ ye lasses bring the bowl over in case she canno’ keep this down?”

Aileen hurried to the table, set the ewer aside and brought the bowl over to the bed.

“Go ahead,” Rory said after taking the bowl from her sister. When Dwyn immediately plugged her nose, he offered the mug. They were all silent as she gulped the liquid down, and Geordie took the opportunity to look her over. Her face was pale, and there were tracks on her cheeks. Tears had obviously escaped her eyes as she’d purged. He wasn’t surprised. Even muffled through the door, her retching had sounded violent. But she was still beautiful to him, Geordie thought, and then quickly took the mug from her when Dwyn suddenly froze, her eyes widening with horror.

Even as he set the mug on the bedside table, Rory was moving forward with the bowl Aileen had brought over. Geordie turned back just in time to support her shoulders and hold her hair back as she brought up the liquid she’d just taken in.

“How is she?”

Geordie lowered the hand he’d been rubbing the back of his neck with and glanced up wearily at that question from Jetta as he reached the trestle tables. “She’s finally asleep, but ’twas a long night,” he said quietly, and then shifted his gaze over the people at the table. It was morning, and the entire inhabitants of the castle appeared to be breaking their fast except for Dwyn and her sisters. Dwyn was sleeping. Her sisters were watching her while he came below to break his fast and find out what they’d discovered about who had poisoned Dwyn. His gaze stopping on Rory, he asked grimly, “What the devil was it she was poisoned with? She was retching all night.”

Rory opened his mouth to answer, paused and then sighed tiredly. “I am too weary to recall the name o’ the plant at the moment, but its only effect is to upset a person’s stomach and set them vomiting.”

“From what Alick said, it sounded like ye recognized the smell o’ it in her mug,” Geordie said quietly.

“Aye,” Rory said dryly. “It has a very recognizable, sickly sweet smell that ye do no’ forget once ye smell it, and with all the liquid gone, some o’ the crushed leaves were in the bottom o’ the mug, the smell faint, but there.” He grimaced and added, “The taste is no’ one ye’re likely to forget either, but it can be covered with a drink that has a strong flavor o’ its own.”

“But it would not have killed her?” Jetta asked solemnly. “So someone just wanted to make Dwyn sick?”

“I guess cutting her feet was no’ misery enough fer her attacker,” Geordie said grimly.

“What?” Rory said with surprise. “I thought that was an accident?”

“Nay,” Jetta said sadly. “The glass was not there when Dwyn entered the garderobe and Aulay and Geordie think it was spread on the floor deliberately so that she would cut herself on the way out.”

“The glass was evenly spread wall to wall rather than in any kind of circular or star-shaped pattern,” Geordie explained, not surprised Aulay had shared what they suspected with his wife. “And the torch by the garderobe was out.”

Everyone was silent for a minute, and then Alick said, “Well, Geordie, the good news is that ye’ve picked a bride someone just wishes to torment and no’ kill like the rest o’ our sisters-in-law. That makes a nice change.” When everyone turned to look at him, he said defensively, “Well, it is.”

Geordie shook his head, and rubbed his tired eyes. He’d been awake all night with Dwyn. While she’d had moments where her stomach had seemed to settle briefly, as it had before he’d carried her out of the garderobe, those moments had been few, short and far apart. She’d spent the rest of the time retching, doing so long after there was anything to bring up. But the protracted retching had given her a headache, and begun to cause spasms in her stomach muscles. The additional symptoms had merely added to Dwyn’s misery.

It had been terribly difficult to watch her suffer so and not be able to do anything but hold her, rub her back and keep her hair back from her face. Geordie had been more than relieved when she’d finally fallen asleep as the sun rose. He suspected it was simple exhaustion that had allowed her to drift off, but when she’d slept for an hour without waking to retch again, and her sisters had insisted he should break his fast first, he’d judged it might be over and safe for him to come below briefly. He’d known the lasses had wanted to refresh themselves and change before leaving the room anyway, and his absence would give them the chance to do that. Besides, Una and Aileen had gone for dinner the night before while he hadn’t, and had managed to drift off to sleep on pallets Aulay had ordered brought into the room for them. With nothing to bring back up, and with Dwyn growing weaker as each hour passed, her retching had become much quieter. Even so, he didn’t think he could have slept through it and didn’t know how they had.

Running his hands through his hair now, he muttered, “I gather ye have no idea who poisoned her?”

“Nay,” Aulay admitted with a scowl. “Everyone was entering the great hall then, and there were a lot of servants coming out with drinks. No one noticed the mug being set beside Dwyn.” He was silent for a minute, and then added, “We have been thinking perhaps we should put the wedding and feast off at least until tomorrow night.”

“Dwyn will no doubt sleep through the day,” Jetta pointed out gently when Geordie opened his mouth to protest. “She will be in no shape for a wedding, let alone a wedding feast and the bedding tonight.”

Geordie closed his mouth in defeat. In truth, he doubted he’d be in shape for a wedding, feast and bedding himself at this point. He was so exhausted his vision was blurring. Nodding, he stood abruptly.

“Where are ye going?” Aulay asked with concern.

“Back to watch over Dwyn,” he said, stepping over the bench.

“But you have not eaten,” Jetta pointed out with concern.

Geordie paused briefly, but then shrugged indifferently. “I’m too tired to be hungry.”

---