Page 18 of Highlander Lord Of Vengeance (Highland Revenge Trilogy #3)

He leaned forward, alarm rising. “Esme?”

She turned slightly toward him, lips parting, but no words came. Her eyes were wide, panicked, and then her body doubled over with a sharp shudder.

Torrance was on his feet in an instant.

He caught her around the waist, steadying her as she tried to rise. “Hold on,” he murmured urgently, guiding her off the dais. “Get Brenna!” he barked toward a servant as he lifted her into his arms and rushed her out of the hall.

He took the stairs to his chamber two at a time and once inside rushed her to the clean chamber pot. He dropped to his knees beside her, holding her hair back, his other hand braced on her trembling back as her body convulsed with each retch.

“Easy,” he whispered, feeling her discomfort and helpless to stop it.

She gasped in a shaky breath, the worst of it seeming to pass. Her face was clammy, her body slack against him.

“Torrance…” Her voice was barely there.

He cradled her closer. “I’ve got you.”

Her head rested on his chest, and her fingers curled weakly into his tunic. “I don’t understand. I felt fine and then?—”

He stiffened.

A creeping thought slid through him like a blade drawn slowly. A sudden sickness and after breakfast.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his mind racing. His voice turned hard. “Is there something you’ve not told me?”

She blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“When I was away… did you lie with another man?”

“What?” she asked, thinking he couldn’t mean what she suspected he meant.

His voice turned harsh with the question he hadn’t meant to ask but couldn’t stop himself from voicing it. “Are you with child? Is that why you are eager to spread your legs for me?”

Color surged to her cheeks despite her pallor, and anger flared in her exhausted eyes. “You think I’m ill because I carry another man’s child?”

“You were not eager for my touch before,” he accused. “Now you lie willingly in my bed. Should I not question why?”

She shoved weakly against his chest. “I obeyed every demand you made of me concerning the consummation of our marriage. I accepted failing you, of not being desirable enough for your manhood to rise to see the deed done. But since your return home your manhood has been anything but flaccid and still you refuse to consummate our vows. I am still the virgin you wed and if you did your duty, you would find the truth for yourself.” She took a breath.

“And I come to your bed now because” —she shook her head— “I stopped hating you enough to try.”

The shock of her words froze him. He didn’t move. He couldn’t speak. The shame of his accusation coiled in his gut. And the thought that she didn’t hate him was a revelation he never expected.

The door opened with a rush, and Brenna hurried in with her satchel.

“She’s taken ill,” Torrance said, his voice clipped as he lifted his wife in his arms and carried her to the bed to gently place her down on it.

Brenna stood beside the bed, seeing Esme’s pale face and feeling the clamminess of her skin. “Could you be with child?” she asked, brushing a strand of hair from Esme’s damp forehead.

Esme hesitated. Her gaze swiftly going to Torrance, uncertain, fearful of how to respond.

“There’s a chance,” he said before she could answer, though the words tasted bitter.

A knock sounded, and a young servant stepped inside, pale and out of breath.

“My lord, I was sent by cook to tell you that one of the kitchen lads has taken ill too. Retching something awful. He admitted to taking a bit of the dried meat from the morning’s meal.

The same meat you refused but Lady Esme ate. ”

Torrance’s head snapped around. “What?”

The servant spoke quickly. “He said it was set aside for you, but since you didn’t eat it…”

Torrance remembered it then. He had refused the dried meat. It wasn’t to his liking. Esme was surprised, claiming it was always a favorite meat of his for breakfast.

His eyes shot back to her pale face. “She wasn’t meant to eat it. I was.”

Brenna’s eyes widened. “Poison?”

“Treat her for it… now,” Torrance ordered, rage simmering just beneath the surface and without another word, he turned on his heels and stormed from the chamber.

Someone had tried to kill him, and his wife had nearly died in his place.

Someone would pay.

Torrance’s boots struck hard against the flagstones as he entered the kitchen. The scent of salt and spices lingered, but it was the tang of fear that filled the air as the cook and kitchen servants scrambled to bow.

“My lord,” the cook stammered. “We—we heard Lady Esme took ill?—”

“You set aside dried meat for me this morning,” Torrance snapped, his gaze drilling into the older woman’s face. “Who prepared it?”

“I—I did, my lord,” the cook said quickly. “I always do. That cut was from a new batch, smoked and salted as usual. No different?—”

“It was different,” Torrance growled. “It was poisoned.”

The cook’s eyes bulged. “Poisoned?”

“It would explain why one of your own is retching his guts out because he stole some of what was meant for me. My wife ate some. She could have died…. still could.” The thought infuriated him and frightened him.

The servants shrank back fear causing them to tremble.

“Lots of people had hands on that meat,” Una said, stepping forward to defend the cook.

Torrance advanced a step, his fury barely restrained. “Did you?”

“Nay,” the cook said. “Una never laid hands on it.”

Torrance glared at Una. “Then you will be the one to find out who touched that meat. From the moment the animal was slaughtered to the moment it reached my table. Every hand. Every eye. Every moment.” He cast a deepened scowl at everyone there.

“Answer Una’s question honestly so she can find the culprit, or you all suffer for it. ”

Heads bobbed nonstop.

“I will see it done, my lord,” Una said confidently.

“And quickly,” Torrance demanded. “In the meantime, every one of you will stand in front of me and taste every bit of food that is served before it passes mine or my wife’s lips.

” He pounded his fist on the table, the sliced kale and cabbage on top bouncing from the force.

“Someone will suffer for this even if I find out it was nothing more than carelessness.”

He stalked from the room, jaw tight, fury boiling. He had almost lost her, feared he still could. And whoever had come for him would soon learn just how dangerous it was to fail.

The chamber was quiet save for the occasional crackle from the hearth.

Esme lay still beneath blankets and a couple of furs.

She had remained in bed, Torrance’s bed, since she’d taken ill this morning.

She was feeling better, a bit weak and not at all hungry, her stomach churning now and again.

Brenna had given her a potion that brought up the last of the food and ordered her to rest for the day and suggested she might be more comfortable in her own bedchamber.

Torrance commanded that she remain where she was and Brenna did not dispute it and neither did Esme even though she would have preferred to be alone with her roiling stomach and thoughts.

Poison.

It didn’t seem real. Yet the sharp burn in her throat, the sour taste still lingering in her mouth, the weakness in her limbs… it had all been real enough.

Someone had tried to kill Torrance, and she had nearly taken his place.

She shut her eyes, her breath catching. Not just because of the sickness, or even the brush with death. It was the moment he’d looked at her, eyes filled not with worry, then suspicion.

Have you been with another man?

His words had landed like stones in her chest, each one sinking deeper.

She hadn’t expected him to accuse her of that.

Not after last night. Not after the things he’d shared with her.

Or how she had woken during the night to feel his warmth steady against her back, his arm draped snug over her waist as if he truly wanted her there.

Had it meant nothing to him? Or was he playing one of his usual games, reeling her in, catching her unaware, then punishing her?

Even now, she wasn’t sure what wounded her more, the poison or not knowing who her husband was. Himself. Or someone playing at him.

Her eyes grew heavy. Brenna cautioned her that she would probably sleep much of the day, her body needing rest to regain its strength. The problem had been that her thoughts refused to let her rest, until now. She didn’t fight sleep, instead, she welcomed the peace it would bring her.

Esme didn’t know what woke her, but her eyes drifted open to see her husband had moved the chair close to the bed and was sitting there staring at her.

“You should come to bed. You look tired,” she said baffled that she invited him to join her.

He didn’t hesitate. He shed his garments and slipped beneath the blankets and wrapped himself around her, tucking her close.

That she found comfort and safety, once again, in his strong embrace surprised her and she drifted back asleep baffled by their strange situation.