Isabella had just slipped a clean dress over her head and was straightening the skirt when a loud pounding began on her bedchamber door, the blows rattling it in the frame and threatening to tear it from its hinges.
She hurried to open it and found an extremely angry Gerard on the other side. “Has something happened?” she asked, resisting the urge to take a step back as his thunderous gaze skewered her.
“Aye, lass,” he growled, as he reached out and fastened a hand about her wrist. With a tug, he yanked her forward and out into the corridor. “Something has happened. The laird’s condition has worsened.”
“I’m not surprised,” Isabella said, as she sighed.
Gerard’s brows arched as he dragged her along the corridor behind him. “Aye, you did intend to poison him, then. I didn’t want to believe it, but when a traveling physician arrived at the castle this morning and examined the laird, he claimed that someone had deliberately tried to do harm.”
Panic clawed at Isabella’s insides. She thought about the tincture she had given the laird. She had thought it was Burdock, but something told her something else had been mixed in with it. Something that was intended to cause pain and death, not heal.
“I was trying to help,” she whispered, as Gerard opened the laird’s bedchamber door and shoved her roughly inside. Eva was sitting on a chair by the bed, weeping.
A dour faced man turned to look at them and then scowled. “Is this the lass who poisoned the laird?”
“Aye.” Gerard sighed heavily. His hand remained firmly on her wrist and his grip tightened. “It is.”
Anger flashed in Isabella’s eyes as Gerard’s words cut deep.
The physician’s eyes narrowed as he looked Isabella over. “She attempted to kill the laird.” His accusation rang out in the room.
Eva gasped.
Gerard growled as he pulled Isabella against him. “Is that true, lass?” He gave Isabella a shake. “Answer me!”
Isabella looked from one to the other and then to the still form on the bed. The laird’s cheeks appeared sunken and his skin had a grayish tinge. “No,” she whispered as she shook her head in denial. “I was trying to help, not hurt.”
“I suggest you lock her up before she does any more harm,” the physician said with a wave of his arm, his voice dripping venom. “You had better hope the laird survives.” His gaze zeroed in on Isabella’s face. “I would hate to see a noose fitted around your pretty little neck.”
Isabella looked at Eva for help, but she was leaning forward, her cheek resting against the laird’s chest and sobbing quietly.
Isabella began to struggle as Gerard hauled her from the room. She stared up at him as they stood in the corridor, her breath coming in quick pants.
“What is going to happen to me?”
Gerard’s expression was weary as he looked down at her. “There is only one place to put you,” he said, as he scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder. He carried her down the corridor and down the main staircase. In the Great Hall, he ignored the curious looks from his clansmen and servants, as he marched across the wide expanse and stomped up the spiraling staircase leading to the north tower.
Isabella winced as he jostled her, making no attempt to be careful. When they reached the landing and the tower room door, he flung it open and tossed her inside.
With tears in her eyes, Isabella stared up at him from the spot where she had landed on the stone floor. “You can’t just leave me here,” she whispered, thinking Gerard looked a far cry from the man who had made love to her only hours earlier.
“Oh, aye,” Gerard rasped, his eyes glittering with anger. “I can. After your lies and schemes. After you hurt a member of my family,” he thundered. “I can walk away and leave you here until you perish and your bones turn to dust.”
“I didn’t mean to harm the laird,” Isabella said softly, her eyes pleading. “You have to believe me.”
Gerard turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. A key turned in the lock. “Pray to whatever gods you believe in, Bella,” he called from the other side. “You are going to need it.”
Chapter
Thirteen
Hours passed as Isabella shivered in the cold. The tower room was damp and dark, even with the fire she had managed to light in the hearth. An icy wind howled out of the north, rattling the shutters and sneaking through the cracks to add to her torment.
She was hungry. The kind of hungry that gnawed at your insides and left a person dreaming about food.
Looking around her cramped quarters, she spied little in the way of sustenance. She imagined at this hour, the Great Hall would be filled with diners as they partook of the morning meal. Briefly she wondered if Gerard had joined them, or was he standing guard outside the laird’s room in an attempt to keep death away. A feat that was impossible for a mere man, no matter how fierce a warrior.
She thought about the laird. Rowan was a kind man and genuinely cared about his clansmen and the people who worked for him. It was a quality that was rare. Many lords and ladies considered servants to be no better than household pets and often treated them as such. But the division between rich man and a common man wasn’t set in stone here and many a time she had witnessed the laird talking and laughing with a groomsman or stable hand, the same way he would with a nobleman.
A key scraped in the lock and the tower room door creaked open. Gerard walked inside and placed a tankard of ale and a trencher with a small portion of meat and vegetables on the table.
Isabella’s stomach growled and it was all she could do not to run to the food and wolf it down. She tilted her chin and stared up at him defiantly. “How long do you intend to keep me here?”
Gerard scrubbed a hand across his jaw. Weariness drooped his shoulders and he had the look of a defeated man. “I am moving you to your bedchamber,” he said, refusing to look at her.
Isabella’s eyes widened in surprise as she wondered what had brought about this turn of events. “I thought you intended to keep me here forever.”
Gerard appeared lost in thought, it was few minutes before he answered her. “That was my original intent, aye, but some new information has come to light. I need to thoroughly look into the matter before I make a decision I might come to regret.”
His eyes met hers. There was a sorrow in their depths, that spoke of a hurt that only time could mend. “The laird is dead.”
Tears filled Isabella’s eyes as a wave of anguish crashed over her. It was hard to believe that Rowan Mackenzie, a man who had been so full of life, had breathed his last.
“When did it happen?” she whispered, as she thought about Eva and the children and wondered how they were coping with the devastating news.
“A little over an hour ago.” Gerard’s voice was rough with emotion. He wiped his eyes, chasing away the tears that threatened. Rowan had been more to him than just the laird. He had been his cousin, someone who had been more like a brother and his death left a wound that ran deep.
Isabella fought the urge to go to him and wrap him in her arms, but she knew her actions would not be wanted nor welcomed. Gerard believed she had brought harm to his family. That she had re-payed his kindness with a dose of pain so staggering that it would bring a strong man to his knees.
He turned away from her. “Eat and then I will take you to your room.”
Isabella inhaled the food, surprised that it wasn’t moldy leftovers or a hunk of stale bread. Whoever had prepared her tray had seen to it that she had decent food to eat and she briefly wondered if Gerard had fixed the tray himself. When she was finished, she rose from the table, uncertain what to do.
Gerard crossed to the fireplace and extinguished the flames that burned low in the grate. He turned to her and then motioned toward the door. “It is time to go, lass.”
Isabella walked in front of him out of the tower room and down the treacherous steps. She could feel the weight of his hand on her shoulder, as if he were afraid she might try to escap
e. But she had nowhere to go and the castle was filled with people who wished to see her hang from the nearest tree.
When they reached the Great Hall, Isabella halted. Numerous pairs of eyes turned in her direction and she cowered as she felt the weight of their stares. These people wanted to see her dead for a crime she didn’t commit, of that she had no doubt, and she suddenly became very afraid. Within these castle walls was the true murderer, a person who would like nothing better than to see her tried and convicted of the crime.
Gerard marched her through the maze of tables. A low murmuring began as soon as they had passed and a couple of the men spit on her, only to receive a glowering look from Gerard in return.
Isabella didn’t feel safe until she was inside the walls of her bedchamber. Even though she knew she was still a prisoner, the sight of her things and the view from her window was marginally comforting.
“I will post a guard outside the door.” Gerard’s tone was clipped. “So don’t get it into that pretty head of yours that now would be the perfect time to escape.”
Isabella reached for him then, seeking the comfort he had been willing to give mere hours ago, but he turned away. “Gerard,” she whispered, as tears filled her eyes. “I didn’t’ kill Rowan.”
He sighed. “I don’t know what to believe, Bella. I want to believe you, but there is proof you poisoned him.” He speared her with a troubled look. “Did you or did you not give Rowan a tincture to ease his fever?”
“Aye, but…”
A look of disgust entered Gerard’s eyes and he waved his hand. “That is all I need to know. There was poison in the tincture you gave him.”
“I didn’t make the tincture,” Isabella protested, willing him to understand. “It was already made. I found it in the cupboard in the tower room.”
Gerard’s eyes narrowed. “You claim to be a healer?”
Isabella tilted her chin and stared up at him. “Aye, I am a healer and I am a good one.”
He grasped her arms and shook her. “If you are a healer, lass,” he growled. “Why didn’t you know the tincture contained poison?”
Isabella squared her shoulders. She and Gerard were on opposite sides now, a place she had never wanted to be, but if she intended to survive, she couldn’t appear weak.
“If there was poison in the tincture,” she said, keeping her voice steady and meeting his gaze, “it must have been a small amount.”
Gerard’s expression darkened. “Small or not, it was enough to kill him.”
“Aye.” Isabella inclined her head. “That appears to be so. I’m sorry.”
Gerard brought his face close to hers. “Sorry for what you have done?” he growled. “Dinna think I won’t hang you, lass, because I will.”
Isabella took a step away from him then. “My death will be on your shoulders then. Can you stomach it, Gerard Mackenzie? Can you live with putting an innocent woman to death or will it haunt you for the rest of your days?”
Gerard didn’t answer her, but strode to the door. “The laird’s men are grieving, as is the entire castle. I’m certain none of them would think twice about putting an arrow in your back if you attempt to leave.”
Isabella thought about how quickly the atmosphere in the castle had changed. Just twenty-four hours ago, she had thought it to be warm and welcoming. A place she was beginning to think of as home. Now it seemed cold and bleak.
“Gerard?”
He turned with a sigh and a questioning look in his eyes. “Aye?”
“How are Eva and the children?”
His look of pain deepened and he scrubbed a hand across his face. “Devastated,” he said shortly. “As is expected.”
The first rays of sun entered the bedchamber, heralding the start of a new day. Isabella rose from her bed, a bed in which she had spent the entire night tossing and turning, and went to the window. She had left the shutters open during the night, preferring the light of the moon to the claustrophobic darkness that threatened to overwhelm her.
She looked out over the lake, its surface becoming streaked with violets and pinks as she shook from the bitter cold. It would have been a beautiful day if a dark cloud of mourning hadn’t hung over the castle.
Her bedchamber door creaked open and she turned as Gerard stepped inside. His gaze raked over her scantily clad form before he turned away and stared at the wall.
“Get dressed.” His voice was laced with weariness and held none of the anger from the previous day. “Eva wishes to speak to you.”
Isabella hurried and dressed and soon she was walking beside Gerard down the corridor. Several people looked in her direction, but none met her eyes. Instead, turning away as she passed.
She was surprised when they left the second floor and walked down the staircase to the main floor. Here, they turned left and entered a short passageway off of the Great Hall.
“I thought Eva wished to speak to me,” Isabella whispered, as they stepped into the chapel.
“Aye.” Gerard nodded. “She does.” He pointed to the front of the chapel where the figure of a woman dressed in mourning colors could be seen kneeling.
The chapel was still deserted, but Isabella knew that people would soon begin to stream in to participate in the morning mass. The chaplain, a portly man who had barely spoken a word to her since her arrival, stared at her as if she were Satan himself, arriving from hell to wreak havoc on the innocent.
Isabella watched as the chaplain crossed himself and then turned away, muttering to himself. She hesitated, not wanting to see the hatred in Eva’s eyes.
Gerard reached out and took her much smaller hand in his. He gave it a reassuring squeeze before releasing it. “Go to her, lass. She has been asking for you.”
Isabella stared up at him. Gone was the anger from the previous day and in its place was a look of calm. Whatever demons Gerard had wrestled with during the night, it appeared as if he had won and the outcome was in her favor.
Isabella crept down the short main aisle until she reached the front of the chapel. “You wished to speak to me?” she whispered, when she reached the lady of the castle.
Eva looked up at her through red rimmed eyes. Tears stained her cheeks and the front of her dress. “Aye,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. “I do.”
She rose to her feet and beckoned Isabella to follow her. They entered into the Oratory, a small room off of the main chapel used by the laird’s family for private worship. Once there, she turned and regarded Isabella solemnly. “There is a murderer among us,” she whispered, her eyes holding a feverish light.
Isabella’s heart leapt into her throat and she began to protest her innocence. “I didn’t harm the laird,” she said softly, acutely aware of the chaplain hovering by the Oratory door.
Eva nodded slightly. “I know you didn’t poison Rowan.” She sighed heavily, as if the weight of the world rested upon her slim shoulders. “You might find it hard to believe, but my husband had enemies.”
Isabella’s eyes widened in shock as she pictured the late laird with his warm eyes and smile. She couldn’t fathom a soul would wish to do harm to such a kind and lighthearted man.
“I don’t believe it,” she whispered.
Eva nodded sadly. “Aye. My husband has done a lot of good, that is true, by a few of his ancestors weren’t so kind. Peoples’ memories are long and I am afraid my husband was forced to pay for a crime that was committed by one of his ancestors long ago.”
Isabella shivered at Eva’s words.
Chapter
Fourteen
A cold wind howled out of the north, pushing the dark clouds across the sky at an alarming rate and snaking around the mourners as they stood in the cemetery enclosed by the castle walls.
Isabella stood far back from the burial a site. A guard stood on either side of her, so close that she could feel their arms brushing against her own. And one stood behind, making sure she didn’t escape. As if it would be possible to outrun them in her heavy cloak and skirt
s.
From her spot, she could hear the sounds of weeping as the chaplain completed the burial service. She could see Anne, standing tall by her mother as Eva leaned on her for support. Nicholas was absent, having been deemed too young to attend and tucked safely away in the nursery with his governess.
Isabella could see Gerard standing a few feet away from the mourners. His attention wasn’t on the service, but on her. She could feel the weight of his gaze even though an expanse of frozen ground separated them and she turned away, unable to bear the sight of the grief and pain etched upon his handsome face.
The service was over. Isabella felt a grip on her arm as the guards propelled her away from the gravesite and back into the castle. The Great Hall was deserted as they made their way slowly up the stairs and down the corridor to the door at the end.
One of the guards opened her bedchamber door and pushed her roughly inside. “Inside with the likes of you,” he growled, as he slammed the door behind him.
Isabella waited to hear the key turn in the lock, but after minutes ticked by and she no longer heard sounds coming from outside of her room, she opened the bedchamber door and peeked out.
Her eyes widened in surprise. The corridor outside was empty. The guards who had been her constant companions since she had been let out of the tower room were nowhere to be seen.
She crept out into the corridor, quietly shutting the door behind her. That way, if anyone were to glance in this direction, they would think that she was still safely inside.
When she reached the bedchamber that belonged to the laird and his wife, she stopped. The door was partially open and a rustling sound was coming from inside.
Thinking that Eva had returned from the memorial service, Isabella opened the door and stepped inside. She stopped short when she saw the constable and the governess, Aisling, standing in the corner of the room and speaking in low tones. Neither one appeared to notice her presence, so engrossed they were in conversation.
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