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She’d been the cause of his and Nora’s illness.

Yet the idea that Aileana would stoop to such foul practices seemed at odds with what he thought he’d learned about her.

The contradictory images warred in his mind.

Aileana mixing a brew to prevent the plague, Aileana bent over his kin, nursing them until she fell ill herself…

Aileana standing over him in the yard, her guilt-stricken expression making him feel far more ill than the rolling of his stomach.

The truth couldn’t be denied. The facts led to no other alternative.

And there was more than just his sudden sickness to make him certain he was right.

Though it hadn’t been him, Nora had bedded someone this week.

Young Gil had taken her to his pallet, and she’d gone gladly, stung as she was by Duncan’s frequent rebuffs and thinking to make him jealous with a more willing bedmate.

Only Gil hadn’t taken sick. Just himself and Nora.

And he himself had shared a trencher of stew with her at supper two nights ago. A well-seasoned dish, if he recalled, steeped with an odd taste he’d struggled to place at the time.

Aye, it seemed more than likely that Aileana had brought on his bout of misery. But why?

The answer he’d been resisting as heartily as he could spilled over him now like a shower of ice, making his teeth grate and his fists clench.

He’d known it all along but just refused to believe, holding on instead to false comfort.

But the truth was that Aileana hated him, enough, it seemed, to incite her to poison him. But had she wanted him to die?

She’d wanted him to suffer, that much was clear.

Nora was just an unintended victim, stricken because she’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Had Aileana planned to kill him, then? His throat constricted and his head throbbed, the dark brooding of his own thoughts beginning to bring on a headache.

The uncertainties went round and round, torturing him in away that rivaled the unholy skill of his guards in the Tower.

He knew that Aileana had used her herbs to make himill.

But he also knew her to be very skilled with her remedies and knowledge of healing; her abilities were such that if she’d intended for him to die, he’d wager Eilean Donan that he’d not be standing here debating it right now.

Relief swept through him with the thought.

Aye, she’d dosed him to make him sick, but that was all. It wasn’t an attempt on his life.

And yet he’d suffered mightily, curse her brews.

But his body wasn’t the only thing paining him; something unseen inside of him ached with the wound of her actions as well.

Ruthlessly, he stamped down the hurt beneath his anger.

Aye, he told himself, the only thing preventing him from throwing her out of the castle gates right now was his knowledge that she continued to hide the Ealach from him.

And he couldn’t—he wouldn’t let her go until he had it in his possession again.

“Matters of the heart rarely run smooth, cousin,” Kinnon murmured, apparently noticing his black expression from where he stood off to Duncan’s side.

“It’s not my heart that I’m concerned with. It’s my health—or apparent lack of it these days.”

Kinnon raised his brows. “You’re feeling ill again, then?”

“Nay,” Duncan snapped. “But it’s no thanks to that hex over there.” He nodded toward Aileana. “I want her removed from the kitchens and the brewery. She’s to have no more access to the food preparation areas. And in future, she’ll be sharing my trencher with me, whether she likes it or no.”

Kinnon let out a whistle. “You’re thinking she brought the sickness upon you, then.” Duncan nodded, and Kinnon cocked his head. “But why was Nora afflicted too? Surely your leman is skilled enough to curse those she chooses, without mistake?”

Duncan could have sworn he saw a twinkle in Kinnon’s eye.

Deciding his imagination tricked him, he stared into the fire.

“I don’t know. Perhaps she decided it was worth a risk to others to lay me low,” he mumbled, kicking at a sputtering log that had fallen too close to the hearth.

“It’s clear how she feels about me. It’s been so from the moment she laid eyes on me on the field beyond her family’s holding. ”

Kinnon folded his arms across his chest, remaining silent for so long that Duncan finally pulled his gaze up to look at him again. His cousin appeared to be in deep thought.

“You might be wrong, you know.”

Kinnon spoke so low that Duncan wasn’t certain, at first, that he’d said anything. But then Kinnon stopped rocking and looked him straight in the eye. Duncan felt the strength of their friendship in his gaze, a bond that reached deeper than ties of blood ever would.

Duncan shook his head. “Nay, I don’t think I’m wrong about her, Kinnon, though God knows I wish it otherwise. It’s the only reasonable explanation for what happened.”

“I’m not talking about her giving you something to make you feel sick,” Kinnon said. “That might well be true. I’m talking about why she’d be wanting to do something like that.”

Duncan scowled. “What other reason could there be? She despises me. I’ll concede that I don’t think she intended to harm me mortally, but you cannot deny she intended for me to suffer.”

“Why not let her go home, then?”

“I can’t release her until she tells me where she’s hidden the Ealach .”

Kinnon shrugged. “But if you fear for your life…?” His voice drifted off, and Duncan saw a flash of the twinkle again. “Still, I have to say that the food around here has been much improved since Aileana began helping with the cooking.”

Duncan glared at Kinnon and pushed himself away from the mantel. “You seem quite at ease with knowing that my leman may have poisoned me. Have you something else that needs saying? Anything I should know before I continue to trust my life next to you on the battlefield?”

Kinnon leaned forward, his serious expression wiping away all traces of joviality.

“Aye, cousin, I do have something to say. I think you ought to reconsider the workings of the female heart. It is not so cut and dry as you paint it, I think.” He pulled back, then, and cuffed Duncan on the arm.

“But now I’m finished giving advice. Think on what I’ve said, if you like. ”

With a smile, he sauntered into a group of MacKenzie women and set them all to fawning over him.

Duncan watched his cousin’s broad back, ire filling him up once more.

He frowned, brooding about Aileana and what Kinnon had just said.

The workings of Aileana’s heart? What heart ?

His leman had dosed him to make him sick and then had been gleeful about it.

It was an act of pure spite, bred from her hatred of him.

What in bloody blazes was Kinnon getting at with all of his talk about hearts?

Duncan slammed his fist atop the mantel with a growl of frustration. Then, stalking to the table, he grabbed a full pitcher of ale and a cup, and sank into a chair before the fire. Damn it all to hell. He was done thinking about it—or her—this night.

Hearts, sweet, merciful heaven.

Hearts .