Forgiving Hearts: Duncurra 1-3 (70 page)

“I thought that was mother’s idea.”

“Well, she thinks it was. But ye’re father wouldn’t hear of a betrothal for Fallon before ye, and I had no interest in Coby marrying ye. Lana tried again when Meara was chief but she wouldn’t hear to it either.”

“Good for Aunt Meara,” muttered Gillian.

“Gillian, tsk, tsk. Meara might be alive today if she had agreed to it.”

Tears welled in Gillian’s eyes.

“As I said, she was much more cooperative than ye in that. But then, before Meara had been adequately mourned the king interfered and named Fingal MacIan as laird. Many in the clan were shocked that Lana didn’t encourage ye to enter a convent. She had been so wrapped up in the idea of Fallon’s destiny, it seemed the answer. But, Lana would never have allowed Fallon to marry Fingal and when ye married Fingal all of my plans were on the verge of crumbling when ye married Fingal. So she tried again. So far yer husband hasn’t agreed to the betrothal either. However, I’m sure the elders will agree when yer grief stricken mother begs them to settle Fallon with my son. Together Coby and Fallon will rule this clan.”

Gillian could no longer keep her eyes open. She couldn’t stand to look at the evil glee on Rhiannon’s face any longer. “But ye would need to kill us both for that to happen.” She was so very sleepy. She needed to pretend the potion had had its desired effect anyway, but it wasn’t hard.

“Aren’t ye the clever lass. Aye, I had to kill ye both. And now I have.

As Gillian drifted off to sleep the last words Rhiannon said penetrated her consciousness.
And now I have
.

Rhiannon watched Gillian for a few moments. Her breathing became slow and shallow but didn’t stop. She had given her much more than enough to kill her. It might have been enough to kill a horse, but Gillian had revealed her tenacity over the last few weeks and this had to work. Rhiannon should really have made sure the ill-fated lass was truly dead but she didn’t want to wait. Of course now that Gillian slept, it would be easy enough to put a pillow over her face and smother her. Rhiannon moved closer to the bed. Aye, that is what she would do. She reached across Gillian to grab a pillow. Bodie growled and snapped at her. She jerked away, but his teeth still managed to puncture the back of her hand. She sucked on it to stop the bleeding.

The dog stood over Gillian, his teeth bared, growling. She couldn’t do anything with him there. She had to leave or the noise he was making would draw unwanted attention. “It doesn’t matter, ye mangy beast. She will be dead soon anyway.” She quickly grabbed the mug, rinsing it and dumping the water in the hearth. If anyone had tasted the residue they would know instantly that Gillian had been drugged. Rhiannon couldn’t risk that.

Pulling the sleeve of her
léine
over her injured hand, she left the room and made her way to the great hall. “There ye are, Lana. Gillian took the tisane for me.”

“Good. Thank ye so much. I am so worried about her. I’ll just go up and sit with her for a while. I hate to leave her alone.”

“Actually Lana, she is sleeping and I believe she needs the rest. Perhaps we have been pushing her too hard.”

“Are ye sure? Ye seemed so very certain about the black bile.”

“Aye, and I am still convinced that is the problem. However, since trying to build her blood up hasn’t worked, I am going to reconsider a purgative to rid her of the black bile. That will be hard on her, so some rest before I give it is a good thing. Just don’t let Fallon or Ailsa, or any young woman for that matter, near her. We wouldn’t want the devil to find his way into them.”

“Nay, of course we wouldn’t. I will let her rest for a while and keep the others away.”

Rhiannon hurried out of the keep. When she reached the gate Tarmon asked, “How fares Lady Gillian today?”

“I fear she is no better. She is resting now. I think a purgative is called for. I am going home to prepare it.

“Mother, ye don’t look well,” Coby observed.

“Truthfully, son, this whole ordeal has made me sick at heart. I just wish I could do more for the poor child.” She put her face in her hands and feigned a sob.

Tarmon patted her on the back. “Rhiannon, ye have done what ye could to ease her suffering.”

“But it’s just not enough,” she sobbed.

“Coby, perhaps ye should help yer mother home. Clearly this is taking a toll on her.”

Tarmon called up to one of the men on the wall. “Gavin, send a man down to guard the gate with me. Rhiannon isn’t well and Coby needs to take her home.”

When they were well away from the village, Coby finally asked. “Is she dead yet?”

“By now she probably is. I couldn’t risk waiting for the foxglove to work. Fingal sent for Laird and Lady MacIan. If she is any kind of healer at all, she would recognize foxglove poisoning. I couldn’t risk it. I had to get the herbs back. I gave her enough extract of poppy to kill her several times over. She isn’t our problem now but the laird is.”

“What do ye mean?”

“I knew when he became desperate enough he would grasp at anything. I told him he needed to collect two twigs from a rowan tree that he had never seen before and fashion a St. Andrew’s cross from them.”

“How would that old legend help rid us of him?”

She clucked. “Coby, when will ye learn to trust me? I sweetened the legend a bit. I told him the charm would be more powerful if he plucked the twigs from a tree growing in adversity. I took him to the cliff and pointed out such a tree growing from a fissure in the rock. After he leaned out to look at it, I gave him a little shove over the edge.”

Coby stopped in his tracks and laughed aloud. “Mother, ye’re truly wicked.”

“Malcolm’s illegitimate get should not be ruling this clan. Even if she couldn’t bear him any children, Nuala MacRae didn’t deserve what he did to her and I will see the insult repaid.”

“Mother, ye do live by an odd set of rules. Ye still intend for me to marry Fallon don’t ye?

“Of course I do. But don’t fall in love with that pretty face. As soon as she has produced a few heirs for ye, I will rid the world of her too.”

“I almost feel sorry for Fallon.”

His mother arched a brow at him.

“I said almost.”

“Well, we still have one tiny problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not entirely sure the laird is dead.”

“What? Mother, how could ye be so careless? Surely he noticed ye push him over the cliff. What happened?”

“Don’t make more of this than it is. He went over the cliff but was caught in a tree about a third of the way down. I think he’s dead. I couldn’t tell for sure. At least he was unconscious, one arm was obviously broken and the back of his head was covered in blood. I suspect he cracked it open as he fell. If he is not dead already, he will be soon. Even if he regains consciousness, there is no way he can climb out.”

“We can’t risk that. I’ll go up to the cliff and make sure he is dead. What did ye do with his horse?”

“I left it where he tethered it. It will look more like he had an accident that way.”

“
This
accident had better work.”

“Well son, ye have fouled up all the other ones.”

“So now this is my fault? The problem with making accidents happen, mother, is that they must
look
like accidents. Did ye expect me to stand up on the wall and throw a stone block at him? Someone would have noticed.”

“Ye said ye had a perfect shot when ye were searching for those raiders.”

“I did. I fell far enough back that no one saw me pull the bow. He turned away at the last minute. I couldn’t very well take a second shot. But ye were the one that gave me the drug for the wine the night I set the fire. Christ almighty, I was barely through the passage door when he woke.”

“I gave ye more than enough in that to knock them out. I can’t help it that he didn’t drink it.”

“And I can’t help it that underbrush kept him from breaking his neck on the hunt. His luck has been uncanny. That is why we must make sure he is dead,” Coby said.

~ * ~

Coby left his mother in her cottage and made his way through the forest to the cliff as quickly as possible. He passed Con, still tethered to the bush. The horse nickered and snorted. “Tired of standing there are ye lad? Never ye mind, a search party of worried MacLennans will be through here by dark I warrant, then ye can go home.” He made his way to the edge of the cliff and looked over.

“Hell fire and damnation!” He could see the damaged tree a third of the way down, but Fingal was gone.

“Coby, so kind of ye to come looking for me.”

Coby spun around to see Fingal come from the other side of a large boulder, sword in hand. His clothes were torn, his hair was caked with blood and his left arm was obviously broken, just as his mother had said. And yet somehow, he had managed to climb back up.
Well, he should be easy enough to finish off
. Coby drew his sword.

In spite of his battered condition, Fingal parried his blows easily. Brute force wasn’t going to work; the laird was too skilled. But he looked to have lost a lot of blood. If Coby could spar long enough to tire Fingal, perhaps then he could best him. Maybe goading him to anger wouldn’t go astray either.

“Ye are quite a skilled swordsman, Laird. How embarrassing will it be for everyone to learn ye died, tripping off the edge of a cliff?” Their swords clashed but Fingal remained in control.

“I didn’t die. That should be fairly obvious. For that matter I didn’t trip either. Yer sweet mother gave me a little shove.” Fingal was the aggressor this time and Coby had to focus solely on his opponent’s movements.

“Do ye wonder why?” He needed to distract Fingal.

“Nay, I know why. When I came to after the fall, I figured it out.” Fingal went on the offensive. It was all Coby could do to defend himself. “Ye seem to be having trouble, Coby. I suppose I look like easy prey, but I wasn’t hurt that badly. I have a broken arm and a raging headache. And all these years I thought Niall was the one with the hard head. Seems mine’s fairly resilient.”

Fingal lunged, slicing deeply into Coby’s left arm. White hot pain coursed through him as blood blossomed on his sleeve.

“I figure yer mother thought it was all worked out,” Fingal continued. “Gillian is sick. If Rhiannon could get rid of me and see ye wed to Fallon, ye will be the next laird.” Fingal lunged again; pain shot through Coby’s right hip. Fingal stepped back, giving him a moment’s break. “Do I have that right?”

Fingal attacked again. Coby stumbled, but recovered and parried. He had to focus. He had to distract Fingal. “Well, there is a bit more to it than that.”

“Do tell,” Fingal said, forcing him ever closer to the edge of the cliff.

“Gillian isn’t sick, she’s dead. Mother saw to that this afternoon.”

Fingal screamed like a berserker.

It was with tremendous relief that Eadoin met Niall’s party late morning, just several hours ride from Brathanead.

“Laird MacIan, Lady Gillian is dreadfully ill.”

“She has gotten worse?” Quinn asked.

“Aye, she has. The laird fears for her life. He expected ye a week ago. This morning he sent me to fetch ye.”

“We couldn’t come sooner. There was a problem with Rowan’s wedding, but that’s another story,” Niall said.

“What’s happening with Lady Gillian?” Katherine asked. “Quinn told us about her having lost the baby. He also said that Agnes passed away, I am so very sorry to hear that. She was a good woman.”

“We have another healer, my lady,” Eadoin said. “Her name is Rhiannon and she believes it’s melancholia.”

“That can certainly happen, especially when one has suffered so many losses, but it isn’t life-threatening.”

“My lady, she is sick all of the time. She can’t hold anything down and has no energy. Today the laird couldn’t get her out of bed.”

Katherine frowned. “Niall, we must hurry. I don’t like the sound of this. I don’t think it’s melancholia.”

Niall shook his head. “We can’t travel any faster with the wagon.”

“Then let me ride ahead. It isn’t that far now,” Katherine said.

“Ye are not riding ahead without me and I am not leaving the wagon carrying our children and Edna unguarded.”

Katherine laughed. “It is hardly unguarded, Niall. Half of yer garrison is with us.”

He frowned. “Not half.”

“Well nearly. I’m riding ahead. Ye can either send guardsmen with me, or leave them with the wagon.”

“Katherine, ye would try the patience of a saint,” Niall said, but clearly he had capitulated. “Turcuil, Keavy, and Alan, ride ahead with Lady Katherine. Quinn, ye and Eadoin go too. We won’t be long behind ye.”

Eadoin understood Niall’s desire to protect his wife, but more than anything, he needed to get Katherine to Brathanead as soon as possible. “Thank ye, Laird. I promise ye Lady Katherine will be well guarded until ye reach Brathanead.”

Katherin rode up to Niall and leaned over to give him a kiss. He cupped her face in his hand, returning her kiss. “Be careful, love.”

“I will be. And Niall?”

“Aye, love?”

“No one will ever confuse ye with a saint.”

He laughed heartily as she rode off, surrounded by her guard.

~ * ~

It was early afternoon when Katherine rode through the gates at Brathanead. It had been nearly two years since she had arrived the first time. Then she had been traveling with Niall on their way to the Highlands after their wedding. She had been extremely ill at the time and could barely remember it.

On the ride to Brathanead, Eadoin told her everything that had happened since Quinn left. At Duncurra, Quinn had shared everything he knew about the attempts on Fingal and Gillian’s lives, including Fingal’s concerns about Gillian’s mother. She remembered Duncan’s wife, Lana, from her first visit. Lana had been less than warm at the time, but Katherine had been an outsider. She had a hard time believing that any mother would seek her child’s death and yet, she knew Eithne would have.

Katherine didn’t know what to think, but her first order of business would be to see Gillian. As they entered the keep, Lana came rushing towards her. “Lady Katherine, I am so glad ye are here. My daughter Gillian has been terribly ill.”

“That is what I hear. Take me to her and I will see what can be done.”

“She is sleeping now, my lady. Our healer, Rhiannon, left just a few minutes ago. She said to let her sleep. She believes a purgative is required and wants her to be rested first. When she comes back, ye can see Gillian with her.”

Katherine smiled. “Lana, I understand that Gillian has been extremely ill and only grows worse.”

“Aye, she has my lady. That is why she needs to rest.”

“Rest is certainly important, but if she is as sick as ye say, I think it best if I see her now.”

“But Rhiannon said no one should disturb her.”

Katherine was done arguing. “Eadoin, will ye show me to Lady Gillian’s chamber please.”

Lana’s mouth fell open in shock.

“Aye, my lady, come this way.”

Katherine followed Eadoin up the stairs with Lana on her heels. Quinn and Turcuil followed them. She tapped on the door but there was no answer.

“I told ye, she is sleeping,” Lana said.

Katherine tapped again and opened to door. A large brindle hound stood on the bed beside Gillian’s still body and barked. So as not to startle the animal, Katherine crossed to the bed slowly, offering the beast her hand. He sniffed it, then whined and licked his mistress’s face. “Ye’ve guarded her well, lad, let me see to her now. She shook Gillian gently by the shoulders. “Gillian, wake up. My name is Katherine.” She didn’t wake. Katherine put her hand on Gillian’s chest and her ear to Gillian’s lips. The dog whined again. “Wheesht, lad, let me listen.”

Lana looked on, horror-struck. “She’s not...Gillian, wake up,” she ordered, her voice strident.

Katherine felt Gillian’s forehead, then gently brushed the hair from her face. She felt moisture in her hair and investigated further. “Her pillow is wet. Very wet.” She carefully lifted Gillian’s head and removed the wet pillow, replacing it with a dry one. “The sheet on this side of her is wet too.” She lifted her fingers to her nose to sniff the moisture then tentatively touched her tongue to it. “It’s poppy and it’s very strong.” Turning on Lana she demanded, “dear God, how much did ye give her?”

“I didn’t give her any poppy. The only thing I have given her is the herb tisane Rhiannon prescribed.”

“What was in it?”

“Mint, comfrey, thyme, and chamomile. Recently she added St. John’s wort to ward off the devil.”

Katherine rolled her eyes. She knew the value of herbs in treating illnesses but she believed prayer and faith kept the devil at bay, not a bit of dried weeds. “Is that all that’s in it?”

“I-I don’t know. Those are the main ingredients that I can taste.”

“Really? Does this taste like chamomile and mint to ye?” Katherine thrust the pillow at her.

Lana touched the wet spot and lifted her fingers to her lips. “Nay, that is poppy. My lady, I swear there was no poppy in the tisane I sent up. I wouldn’t hurt my daughter. Why would ye think that?”

Katherine wanted to believe her. “Lana, she is barely breathing and her heart is beating much too slowly. If ye didn’t give her the poppy, who could have?”

“The only person who saw her was Rhiannon and she would never hurt Gillian.”

“The healer who told ye to let her rest before she purged her?”

“Aye.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s gone to her home. It is beyond the village, near the edge of the forest. She said she would be back this evening. Shall I send for her?”

“Nay. I need to speak with Fingal, immediately.” As sick as Gillian was, Katherine was frankly surprised he wasn’t at her bedside.

“He rode out of the keep this morning, my lady, and hasn’t returned.”

“What? Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t say.”

“How long has he been gone?” demanded Eadoin.

“He left shortly after ye did.”

“He has been gone for hours, alone, with his wife lying ill and no one thought that strange?” Quinn asked. “Where is Bran MacBain?”

Eadoin ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “I’m sure he has been on the training field with the men. I’ll warrant no one told him the laird left alone. We need to find him. Turcuil, ye and Quinn stay here and guard Lady Katherine and Lady Gillian. Lady Katherine, I will send a maid and Tira MacBain up. Tira may be some help and the maid will fetch ye anything ye need. Ye are not to leave the room until we know what’s going on.”

Lana shook her head. “Ye needn’t take anyone away from other work and Tira is a midwife. I don’t see what help she can offer. I’ll help Lady Katherine.”

“Nay, ye won’t, Lana. Ye will stay in yer chamber, under guard.”

“Why?”

“Someone has been trying to kill Fingal and Gillian for weeks,” Eadoin said. “Now it appears Gillian has been drugged with poppy, again.”

“What do ye mean again?”

“She was drugged the night of the fire. We suspect that it was not the accident it appeared to be.”

“Surely ye don’t suspect me?”

“Lana, I don’t want to believe ye could do this, but I will take no chances.”

Tears welled in her eyes. “Eadoin, I love her. I would never harm her. I know I have always been closer to Fallon, but I had my reasons. It doesn’t mean I love Gillian less. Please, Eadoin, let me stay here with her.”

“I’m sorry, Lana.”

“Eadoin, wait. Tira and I will both be here, and Turcuil and Quinn will be right outside the door. Lana will not be able to hurt Gillian or anyone else, even if she wanted to.”

“My lady, I don’t think the laird would approve.”

“Why would ye say that, Eadoin?” demanded Lana.

Katherine put up a hand to silence her. “I am aware of his concerns, Eadoin. I promise ye, Gillian will be safe.”

“All right. Quinn, Turcuil, one word from Lady Katherine and ye will remove Lana from this room and see that she is guarded until I return.” They agreed, taking up their posts outside the door.

When they had left, Katherine turned back to Gillian. She checked her over carefully, but other than her shallow breathing and slow pulse could find nothing. She was too thin, but Eadoin had told her Gillian had been unable to eat for days.

“Is there anything ye can do to help her, my lady?” Lana asked.

“Right now we can only wait for her to wake. I can’t imagine a miscarriage leading to all of this. How long had she been pregnant? It couldn’t have been very long. They had only been married a little more than eight weeks when it happened.”

“I think it was less than that my lady. She had only begun to complain of morning sickness a week earlier and she wasn’t sure of the timing of her last courses but she thought it had been a little over a month.”

“That wasn’t very long. If she wasn’t sure she had missed her courses yet, it was the morning sickness that made ye think she was pregnant?”

“Aye, it was most distressing. Rhiannon’s tisane was the only thing that helped.”

“So she went to Rhiannon because she was sick? Not Agnes or a midwife?”

“Nay, she hadn’t gone to any of them. Rhiannon gave her the herbs for the tisane the day after her wedding. She told her to drink a mug every day and it would help her conceive fine strong sons.”

Katherine smiled. She knew many people who believed that one potion or another would help them conceive sons but she had yet to find one that actually seemed to work. “Do ye have any of the herbs? I’d like to see what is in this fine blend.”

“I had the packet but Rhiannon brought it up when she gave the tisane to Gillian earlier. She thought perhaps a stronger brew was needed. They should be here somewhere.” She began looking around the room. Tira MacBain arrived while Lana searched.

“Ye must be Lady MacIan. I am Tira MacBain. How is Lady Gillian?”

“It is lovely to meet ye, Tira. Please call me Katherine. I must be honest, I am worried about her. It appears that someone gave her poppy.”

Tira frowned. “Poppy? Are ye sure?”

“Aye, but much of it was poured onto the bedclothes. I don’t know how much she consumed.”

Tira glanced at Lana, who was now riffling through a chest, and raised a questioning brow.

“She was trying to find the packet of herbs she used to make the tisane Rhiannon prescribed,” Katherine explained.

“Here it is. No, wait this is the first packet from weeks ago. I thought it was gone. Well, it should have been much the same anyway, except Rhiannon added St. John’s wort as I mentioned.”

She gave the packet to Katherine, who spilled some into her palm and looked closely at it. She rubbed some of it between her fingers and sniffed it. Then she put a pinch of it directly on her tongue to taste it. She frowned.

“I told ye there was no poppy in it.”

“Aye, and ye were right but there is more than just mint, thyme, comfrey, and chamomile.” She handed it to Tira. “What do ye taste?”

Tira too examined it closely before tasting it. Her eyes widened. “Tansy and pennyroyal.”

Katherine nodded but Lana shook her head. “Nay, Rhiannon wouldn’t put tansy and pennyroyal in something meant to aid conception. They do the opposite, bringing on courses. They can even cause a lass to lose a baby. The brew didn’t taste of pennyroyal or tansy.”

“But when the herbs are steeped in water, all the flavors blend together. Also, the mint becomes especially strong and masks the other flavors. It is only by sampling the dry herbs that ye can taste each separate one.”

“Let me taste.” Lana took a pinch of the herbs and placed it on her tongue. A look of horror crossed her face. “Oh dear God, ye’re right. If she was drinking this every day it might have been enough to cause her to miscarry.”