His Bonnie Bride

by Hannah Howell

  "Did Kate fail to wake up?" she asked idly as she played her card.

  "A dose of ale served the trick. I left her raining curses upon my head. She leaves on the morrow. I cannae tolerate her shrewishness another day. She has become tedious beyond bearing."

  "That is not what troubles ye, is it?" she asked softly, meeting his eyes.

  "Nay, but it will pass."

  "Will it? I have seen this trouble in your eyes before. It oft helps to talk about it." She continued to meet his gaze, noticed his hesitancy and said softly, "Is it Janet? She desires ye. 'Tis plain." A small frown crossed her face as she watched him pale slightly. " 'Tis not your fault if she does."

  "Is it not?" he replied in an agonized whisper. "Mayhaps I have given her encouragement. Why wouldnae a woman desire a man that has taken her to his bed? Disgusting, is it not? God's teeth, 'tis near to incest."

  Silently Storm shook her head, her eyes wide. "Nay. Nay, I cannot believe that of ye."

  With a groan, Tavis turned onto his back, wondering why he was revealing so much of himself, his secrets. "I dinnae want to either, but there is no ignoring the fact that I woke up with her in my arms about six months past, both of us naked. I cannae e'en use my drunkenness as an excuse. Drunk or nay, I shouldnae have lain with my own father's wife. 'Tis hard to ken that I am that much of a bastard."

  The card game was forgotten as Storm climbed up on the bed to look into Tavis's face. She could not believe him the sort to cuckold his own father, drunk or not. She frowned as her suspicions grew. If he had been with Janet, Storm could not believe he had instigated it. It was probably small comfort, but she could not stand to see him so tormented. His next words increased her suspicions.

  With a harsh laugh, Tavis said, "An I maun suffer for my pleasure, 'twould be nice an I could remember taking it. An I had a good time, I might understand it more."

  "Ye do not remember taking your pleasure with Janet?" Storm asked.

  "Nay, only waking with a sore head and my arms full of a very naked stepmother." He sighed. "I have tried to recall that night, but it willnae come. Mayhaps 'tis too painful. I would rather forget it."

  "Ye have not forgotten enough, though. I think ye should try to recall the whole night."

  "I cannae," Tavis growled. "I try and I come up against a wall. Leave it, Storm."

  "Nay, I cannae," she mocked him. "Something is not right." She reached to untie his robe.

  "Eager are ye? Hadnae ye best send Phelan away?" He grinned when Phelan giggled.

  She ignored both of them. "I am going to help ye recall all that happened that night. Get beneath the covers and lie upon your stomach. I have the strongest feeling that ye have been played for the fool, MacLagan."

  Doing as she asked, Tavis inquired, "How can ye make me remember when I cannae?"

  " 'Tis your sense of shame that hides your memories. You tense at the subject of that night, and thoughts cannot run freely when that happens. I will relax ye in a way I have oft used with my father when he wanted to think clearly. A Moor from Spain taught me this. He was in father's retinue for a time." She got a pot of oil from amongst the toiletries gathered for her use and then straddled him. "Now ye are to relax and let your thoughts drift unfettered by guilt and shame. Tell me of the smallest thing ye can remember of that night e'en if you think it of no importance. Would it not be better to know for certain at last? Be it good or ill?"

  "Aye," Tavis said uncertainly, but her hands were already massaging away his tension.

  Beneath her oiled hands Storm felt him begin to grow lax. "Start with the morning of that day."

  "We went out on a raid," he replied in the tone of a man totally relaxed. "That feels good."

  "Never mind that. Keep your mind on that day. Step by step ye must go through it." She was enjoying the gentle massage of his strong back, feeling each fit muscle relax beneath her ministrations, and smiling fleetingly over the way his voice began to thicken.

  "It was a good raid, a success and only a few wounds to show for it. We put ourselves ahead for the winter. 'Twas reason enough for a celebration and the mead and ale flowed freely. Aye, and nay just a wee bit o' the uisge beatha. I ken I maun have drunk deep o' it all."

  "Were Janet and the laird at this bacchanalia?"

  "Aye, in the beginning. They retired fair early, for my father was suffering from a chill." He sighed as his eyes closed in pleasure. "He hasnae recovered yet. I fear he'll nay last much longer."

  "Do not clutter up your mind with other worries now. Did ye stay much longer at this drinking orgy?"

  "Mmmm. Much later. This would be muckle fine after a long ride or a battle."

  "Father thinks so. When did ye go to your chambers?"

  "I think 'twas far past midnight. I got undressed, nay, Alex helped me undress. Aye, Alex had to help me take me clothes off, I was that fou. Tucked me up in bed like a wee bairn."

  "So," Storm drawled, ceasing her massage, "ye did not retire alone. Alex saw ye to bed."

  "Aye, but I cannae remember a thing after that until the dawn. 'Tis the first time I have recalled Alex."

  "Phelan, go get Alex."

  "Why do that?" asked Tavis as the boy raced off. "Alex wouldnae have stayed with me long."

  "Long enough to know just how able ye were of making love to a woman."

  Tavis sat up quickly, sending Storm tumbling off him. "Of course! An I was in a drunken sleep, I couldnae have taken Janet." He pulled Storm into his arms for a hearty kiss. "Now that is tasty."

  Pressing her down upon the bed, he indulged in another deep kiss, which led to several more. That was how Phelan and Alex found the couple. Phelan laughed while Alex loudly cleared his throat. Keeping an arm around Storm, Tavis turned to Alex, his smile indicative of his high hopes.

  "Do ye recall that last raid ere winter set in?"

  "Aye, Tavis." Alex grinned. "A muckle lot o' drink were consumed that night."

  "Ye put me to bed, right?"

  Alex nodded, his grin widening. "Ye couldnae e'en find the bed."

  "So I was in no state to have me a woman," Tavis said in a thoughtful voice.

  Laughing, Alex replied, "Nay. There isnae a woman on this earth could have found pleasure with ye that night. Ye were snoring loud ere I stepped out o' the room. Our enemies could've burnt Caraidland doon aboot your ears and ye would have slept on. Ne'er seen ye so fou."

  "Thank ye, Alex," Tavis said, finding it hard to hide his elation. "Ye can go now. Sorry to drag ye up here." He pulled Storm deeper into his arms. "Aye, and ye can take Phelan with ye."

  "I ne'er thought to see a man so pleased to hear that he was so disgustingly drunk," Storm said when they were alone. "Ye ought to be thoroughly ashamed of yourself."

  Wrestling her beneath the covers, Tavis began to remove her nightdress. "An I wasnae so relieved I would find that bitch and make her pay dearly for putting me through such a torment. I cannae understand why, what game she plays."

  "Ye can be very stupid at times. She wants ye. I think she hoped to weaken your resolve when she crawled into your bed and mayhaps felt that, if ye thought ye had already cuckolded your father, ye would no longer hold her at a distance. Are ye not flattered?"

  "Nay. Disgusted. As I said, 'tis almost incest. Do ye think my father kens what she is about?"

  "Mayhaps, though he has been ailing. He could be blind to it all." She caressed his face. "He would not have believed her if she had told him ye had lain with her." She smiled impishly. "Ye may be a bastard, but e'en I could not believe ye would act so dishonorably."

  "Ye shall pay for that insolence, wench," he threatened, but his form of retribution was very much to her liking and her cries were of pleasure, not pain.

  Much later, as he held her languid body in his arms, he murmured, "Thank ye, Storm."

  "For what?" she mumbled, feeling sated and content as she snuggled close to his strength.

  "For freeing me from my torment. I could almost think ye cared."

  "More
fool you. Go to sleep."

  He laughed softly and had soon obeyed her teasing command. Storm determinedly fought her own tiredness. As soon as she felt him relax into a deep sleep, she eased out of bed. Donning her nightdress and his robe, she crept from the room. She could wait no longer to voice her suspicions to Malcolm.

  "What do ye want?" Malcolm asked when he answered her knock at Colin's door.

  Pushing him aside, stepping into the room and shutting the door, Storm said, "I know what ails him." She spotted a beaker of something on a bedside table and picked it up. "What is this concoction?"

  " 'Tis a potion his lady brings him each night. He wasnae awake sae he hasnae drunk it yet."

  "Thank God." She dipped her finger into the milky liquid and tasted it, surprised at the strength of the poison. "This one was meant to be the last he would ever take. Colin MacLagan has been slowly poisoned. Taste this." She nodded at the shocked look on Malcolm's thin face. "She plainly felt 'tis time to hurry things along."

  "Lady Janet?" croaked Malcolm, and Storm nodded. "But why?"

  "So she can marry my son Tavis," came a weak voice from the bed, causing both Storm and Malcolm to jump in surprise. "How'd ye guess, lass? Are ye sure?"

  "Near positive, m'lord. I am sorry."

  "Och, 'tis past pain I am. I learned quickly that I had erred in wedding Janet. Have ye proof 'tis her?"

  "Not enough, but I do have a plan."

  "Weel, let us have it then. I'd send the bitch off, but I'd sore hate to inflict her upon another."

  "To start with, ye are going into a coma so we can have time to get the poison out of ye and put some strength back in."

  Colin smiled. "Aye? And then what, lass?"

  Storm smiled and then elaborated, earning a great deal of approbation for her cleverness. It was fully two hours before she returned to her own chambers. She opened the door to bright light and a furious Tavis.

  Tavis had woken up to an empty bed and a massive attack of suspicion. Lighting nearly every candle in the room, he waited for Storm to return. The longer she took, the more sure he was that she had gone to another man. When she walked into the room he leapt from the bed and slammed her up against the door.

  "Where the devil have ye been?"

  "Visiting your father. I could not sleep, recalling how poorly he was, but there is naught I can do." She met his gaze without flinching, feeling a little hurt by his suspicions. Glancing at his naked body, she murmured, "Ye best get in bed or ye'll catch a chill."

  Muttering in Gaelic, Tavis slid into bed, pulling her into a rough embrace when, after putting out all the lights save for one candle by the bed, she joined him beneath the covers. Snuffing that last candle, he decided not to mention the matter any more. He had made a big enough fool of himself. Tugging off her nightdress for the second time that night, he lost himself in her silken loveliness and forgot all about her lengthy absence from their bed. Storm did her best to ensure that for, if her plan were to work, even Tavis had to remain ignorant.

  Chapter Nine

  There was an air of grim anticipation hovering over Caraidland. For three days the laird had lain in a coma, hovering on the brink of death. Now, even the most optimistic could not ignore the fact that Colin MacLagan was dying. Only Malcolm and Storm were allowed into the laird's chambers. No one questioned Storm's place, for her healing abilities were already well respected. Storm suspected there would have been a large number of very angry people if they could have seen behind the thick door of Colin's chambers.

  "I think 'tis time for ye to come out of your coma," Storm mused from where she sat next to a rapidly improving Colin. "I think ye are strong enough to perform your death scene now."

  Colin laughed and toasted her with a mug of ale. "I look forward to it. Where shall it be, lass?"

  "Since ye are well known to be a stubborn man, none will think it strange that ye demand them all in your room to hear your last will and testament. They could easily believe ye would come back from the brink of death just to do that."

  "Aye, but dinnae I look a wee bit too healthy now? They may not believe I am dying."

  "A little powder and paint will serve." She produced a small sack. "Malcolm had best rid the room of all the signs of your returning appetite. As soon as I have ye looking ready to gasp your last, we will fetch up your family. I shall be glad to see the last of their long faces."

  "Are ye sure the bitch'll give herself away?" asked Malcolm as he tidied the room.

  "Oh, aye. Tavis plans to send her on her way if Colin dies. I doubt the laird's death rattle will have ceased echoing in the room ere he tells her to pack her things and go. Then there is our little coup de grace."

  "Ye are a devious lass. I ne'er would have thought it o' ye." Colin chuckled softly.

  "Needs must when the devil drives," she mumbled as she put the finishing touches on Colin's death mask. "There. Ye look like ye have been buried near a week.

  Mayhaps I overdid it. Not to worry. Ready for your performance, sir?" She grinned at Colin. "Shall I gather the audience?"

  Tavis was the first to greet her when she entered the hall. Storm looked at his haggard face and felt guilty for causing him grief with her machinations. It was only a fleeting twinge, for she knew what she was doing was both necessary and right. The one who had tried to kill Colin had to be exposed. She delivered her prepared speech and led the solemn group to Colin's chambers.

  Colin lay, slightly propped up by his pillows, the hollows of his face starkly accentuated by the light and Storm's skilled work with the paints and powders. He watched his sons' faces tighten as they fought to hide their grief and felt guilty, both over the deception and the pleasure he felt at this proof of their caring. It was hard to conceal his rage when his eyes settled on his wife, but he managed, knowing one error would ruin all they had accomplished so far.

  "I ken ye are aware o' how I wish to disperse my holdings, but I wanted to say it one more time afore witnesses so there be no doubt," he said in an appropriately failing voice as Storm moved to stand by him. " 'Tis no surprise that I leave Tavis Caraidland and all that goes with it and the house in Edinburgh, plus half my wealth. Sholto and Iain, ye can sort out the rest as ye will. In my writing table ye will find a paper with instructions concerning a few others, such as Malcolm here."

  "What of me, darling?" Janet asked when Colin closed his eyes and said no more.

  "Och, weel, I leave ye what ye brought to Caraidland and no more." He grasped Storm's hand. "See that the lass here gets back to her folk," he gasped before passing away with a trembling sigh.

  Thinking that he had done that very well, Storm crossed his arms over his chest. "He's dead."

  She stood by the bed to block any chance of the unknowing seeing anything suspicious. With a sardonic look she watched Janet burst into tears and fling herself into Tavis's arms. Storm felt badly for the brothers, who plainly struggled to remain manly in their grief. Their unaffected sorrow erased the tiny, lingering suspicions she had so unwillingly harbored that one of them was in league with Janet.

  With a harsh oath, Tavis flung Janet away from him. "Cease that false noise, woman. An I could do so, ye'd be on your way within the hour, but 'tis best an it waits until after the burial."

  "Send me away?" Janet gasped. "How can ye be so heartless? I have nowhere to go, Tavis."

  "Ye'll find a hole quick enough," he hissed, "so stop your weeping, or do ye weep for the gold me father didnae leave ye? 'Tis nay grief that sets ye to wailing. I ken that weel, as does many another. I'd nay be surprised to find ye had a hand in his death, ye had so little feeling for the man ye wed."

  "Perfect," thought Storm, her eyes moving just quickly enough to catch the flash of panic in Janet's eyes.

  Janet gasped, a hand dramatically fluttering to her throat. "I would ne'er do such a thing."

  "Aye?" growled Malcolm, stepping in precisely on cue, "if ye be sae free o' guilt, go near the body, m'lady."

  "What would that prove?"
Janet asked haughtily, but her gaze darted nervously toward Colin.

  " 'Tis said that an a murderer nears his victim's body, the body will give a sign such as a movement or blood flowing anew from an old or new wound. Care to try it, m'lady?" Storm asked.

  "Peasant superstition," she scoffed, staying right where she was.

  "Then it cannae hurt ye, can it?" Malcolm goaded. "Then again, ye may be guilty."

  Glaring at her tormentor, Janet strode to Colin's bed. Storm and Malcolm feigned shock almost as well as the others did when blood began to seep from the old wound in Colin's shoulder, soaking the front of his night shirt. It was plain to see that the three brothers wanted to deny what their eyes saw. In the enlightened year of 1362 such magic was scorned, or so it was hoped. Janet blanched and backed away from the bed, shaking her head.

  "It seems ye did have a hand in his death," drawled Storm her eyes settling accusingly on Janet, hoping that the woman would condemn herself with her own words.

  Janet looked around at the accusing faces turned her way. Her guilt proved to be her own worst enemy. She turned to Tavis, her hands held out beseechingly. All along she had held to the delusion that only Colin kept Tavis from her side. Now she felt sure that his passion for her would be freed and therefore he would help her. Instead, she met nothing but contempt and suspicion, even open dislike.

  "How can ye look at me so, Tavis? Can ye not see? Now we can be together."

  Tavis's revulsion at that idea was plain to read upon his face. "I ne'er wanted to be with ye."

  "That's not true!" She clutched at the front of his tunic. "How can ye forget the night we made love? All the words o' sweet love ye spoke to me? Now we need not keep it a secret."

  "There's naught to be kept a secret," he snarled as he shoved her away. "Ye crawled into my bed and I was too fou to boot ye out. We did naught. I ken that now. Ye played me for a fool, bitch, but dinnae delude yourself as ye tried to delude me. I dinnae want ye. I ne'er have."