CHAPTER 24
Margaret spent the rest of the day moving between the two chambers of the ill, directing the servants and giving what comfort and help she could.
Most of the time she was too busy to dwell on what she had seen in the stairwell, but every time she went up and down the stairs between the two chambers, the image of Curstag in Finn’s arms came back to her.
With three members of the household poisoned and fighting death, it would be petty to let that embrace trouble her.
Curstag was in need of comfort, and it would be unkind for Finn not to give it.
And yet Margaret could not help thinking there was something between those two that Finn had not told her.
By the end of the day, Margaret was weary to her bones.
Most of the household had already gone to bed, and the castle was quiet as she climbed the stairs one last time to take a fresh pitcher of water to Bearach’s chamber and ask Isabel if she needed anything else for the night.
Isabel could not be persuaded to leave Bearach’s bedside and let the servants care for him even for a few hours so she could rest.
The door to his chamber was slightly ajar, and a thin shaft of candlelight shone through the crack into the dark stairwell.
When she heard voices, Margaret paused outside the door.
Despite the vinegary concoction Isabel had forced down Bearach’s throat, his condition had worsened through the day, and Margaret was hesitant to intrude on what could be one of their last conversations.
“What have ye done, Mother?” Bearach’s voice reached her through the crack. “What have ye done?”
Was he upset that Isabel had turned Finn away? Perhaps, fearing death, Bearach wished to reconcile with his only brother. Margaret hoped so. Isabel only wept in response.
Careful not to make a sound, Margaret left the pitcher beside the door and left.
The image of Finn holding Curstag came back to her once again as she climbed the last set of stairs to the bedchamber she shared with Finn.
Even if that embrace meant nothing, it was a reminder that she was one of a long string of women Finn had taken to bed.
That day outside Huntly Castle, Alex had told her Finn was not the sort of man to stay with one woman for long.
That should not make her feel like a blade was piercing her heart, since their affair could not last anyway.
Once this crisis with his family passed, Finn could take her to Sybil, and that would be the end of it.
She had risked too much already and ought to end it now.
She had a glorious night to remember, and that would have to be enough.
Her resolution melted like butter on a hot skillet when she opened their door and saw Finn leaning against the bed waiting for her. The moment their eyes met, that fiery blaze ignited between them again.
Without a word, she walked into his arms and into the flames.
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The earl and Helen died the next morning.
Finn sat with his father while the women prepared the bodies for the eventual burial, washing them and dressing them in their finest clothes. Once again, Curstag and Isabel left the task of organizing the women to Margaret.
Finn did not know what they would have done without her.
The last two days had been hellish. While Curstag lay in bed making demands on the servants, and his mother alternately wept and forced more of her vinegary concoction down Bearach’s throat, Margaret took care of the sick and kept the household running.
All Margaret had wanted was escape, and he had brought her to this. As if his family were not difficult enough on their own, there were poisonings and a murderer on the loose. And now, she was washing dead bodies.
He rubbed his forehead against a pounding headache and stole a glance at his father.
Though it was not yet noon, his eyes were bleary, and his sweat smelled of whisky.
His father was coping with Bearach’s illness and the death of his brother and sister-in-law the same way he coped with all of life’s challenges and disappointments.
“At least we have a bit of good news about Bearach,” his father said, raising his flask.
Whether it was Isabel’s odd remedy or Bearach’s strong constitution, he did appear to be improving.
“Aye, we’ve cause for hope,” Finn said. “Margaret told me Bearach sat up in bed and ate for the first time since the poisoning.”
After that brief exchange, they fell into another long silence. Finn’s relationship with his father was not acrimonious, but they had never been at ease with each other.
“Alex wants his parents’ bodies brought to Dunrobin,” Finn said at last.
“Isabel says they must remain here for a couple of days so the folk in this part of Sutherland can pay their respects.” His father cleared his throat and attempted a faint smile. “My brother was their chieftain, and he’d want to remind them of that even in death.”
“He would, indeed,” Finn agreed. And for Alex’s sake, it would be wise to remind all the Sutherlands that they owed their allegiance to the new earl.
For the next two days, every man, woman, and child within walking distance passed through the hall where the bodies were on display.
Whether it was out of respect or merely curiosity because of the poisoning, Finn could not say, but he spoke with every one of them.
With Alex at Dunrobin and his own father off drunk somewhere, someone had to greet the mourners on behalf of the earl’s family.
Finally, it was time to take the earl and Helen home to Dunrobin.
“I promised Alex I would bring them myself,” Finn told Margaret that night when they were at last alone in their chamber. “But I don’t feel right leaving when my brother is so ill.”
“Why not let other members of your uncle’s guard escort their bodies home?” She put her arms around him. “Bearach is not out of danger. I’m sure Alex will understand.”
Remembering how young and scared Alex looked when he left him, Finn still felt torn, but he could not leave while his brother’s survival was still uncertain. “I’ll ask Una’s grandson Lachlan to go along. He’s a good man I know I can trust.”
That night they again shut away the world for a few hours and made love frantically between bouts of restless sleep. They barely spoke at all, but he showed her how he felt with his body.
How much longer would she stay? He was under no illusion that this could last. Margaret needed an escape from her highborn life for a time, but he’d always known she would go back to it. She was not meant for the humble life he could give her.
And yet he could not envision his life without her. He had never let himself need a woman before. He did not want to need her now.
But it was too late.
He would get by after she’d gone, as he always did. But her leaving would break his heart, and he had a bad feeling the wound would never heal. Even if he could have foreseen the hole she would leave in his life, however, he would not have missed a moment of his time with her.
“I need ye now,” he said as he pulled her against him, when what he meant was, I need ye forever.