Chapter 27
“Darragh,” she called frantically as she shook the prone figure on the ground.
Cold bloomed in her chest, and fear froze her limbs and thickened her voice.
“Nay!” she screamed, shaking him harder. But he was not budging.
No, God, not now. Not when she had everything she wanted. She might be able to bear the losses she had suffered when she had lost Jonathan, but she did not think she could bear losing Darragh. Not when they had barely had enough time to enjoy their love.
If anything happened to him, she would die. Her soul would shrivel to nothing. That was why he could not die, no matter how selfish it sounded.
The last few weeks had been chaotic, with her being kidnapped from her home, arriving at the castle, and making friends.
Then having to find a suitor because of the inheritance, then hosting an engagement party that did not even last two minutes.
Her life had been something best suited to the pages of a bizarre novel, and she had no regrets.
How could she, when it had ended with her getting attached to the best man she could ever hope for?
But no matter how chaotic those weeks had been, nothing compared to what had happened this morning. One minute, they were taking a pleasant walk, discussing the wedding and the renovations the castle needed; the next, they were besieged by arrows shot by a most unexpected foe, Ayaan.
One minute, he was trying to kill them; the next, he was confessing his feelings for her and how he hated that Jonathan and Darragh had thwarted him. Never mind that he had plenty of time when she was learning under him.
He had had all the time in the world, but he had wasted it primarily because he had thought that the men in her life would force her to marry him.
His ideas were laughable at best, but she had hoped to defuse the situation.
Perhaps one of the clansmen might have seen them and helped them take him down.
But that plan had gone awry as soon as Ayaan loosed an arrow in their direction, and Darragh had instinctively shielded her, taking an arrow to his shoulder.
If she needed more proof that Ayaan did not love her, then this was it, because what kind of lover was reckless enough to try to attack the one he claimed to love, for goodness’ sake.
While she had tried to recover from the shock and move to help Darragh, he was already breaking off the shaft of the arrow and was rushing towards Ayaan, who was trying to loose another arrow.
A moment too late, and Darragh would have died.
A few minutes of a scuffle and an awkward swordfight had ended with Ayaan on the ground, blood pooling beneath him.
She was trying to come to terms with the fact that her mentor was now dead when she grew aware of Darragh’s gasps. She looked up to find him hunched over, gasping for air, his face turning green with pain.
Panic set in, and Ayaan was quickly forgotten. She ran towards Darragh, but she only managed to catch his head before he hit the ground with a loud thud.
She called for him several times, trying to rouse him, but he would not open his eyes. Looking at the position of the arrow, there was only one answer: the arrow was poisoned.
As much as Ayaan was a renowned healer, very few were aware of his interest in poisons.
She had peeped in on him on several occasions as he made notes in a large book in his healing room when she had studied with him where he tested several poisons on rats and rabbits, carefully watching their struggle, studying the effect the poison had on them with a gleeful, almost cold smile on his face.
It was the smile of someone who had their hypothesis confirmed; it was the smile of someone who enjoyed the suffering of those vulnerable creatures.
That side of him had always scared her, and on one of the occasions when she had mustered the courage to ask him about some poisons, he had been quite passionate about the topic.
She had commented on that passion, and he had dismissed it as simply his need to help people.
According to him, the more he studied different poisons, the more easily he could identify them, thereby helping him save many lives.
That was a plausible answer to some, but she had gotten a glimpse into the dark, sadistic part of him, the part that enjoyed torturing the vulnerable.
And try as she might, she could not forget it.
But since she had seen no sign of that part in his manner, she left the matter to rest. Until today, when she was confronted with the proof that that part still existed.
If her suspicions were right, she needed to get Darragh inside fast and examine the arrow to identify the poison, even though she already had several guesses.
She rose to her feet and gave a shrill cry, running towards the castle, hoping that someone was around to help.
“Lass,” someone said, shaking her until she could focus through her tear-stained vision.
It was Cohen and Jenson. She had never been so happy to see them as she was at that moment.
“What is the matter?” Cohen asked in alarm.
Jenson looked around and behind her in the hope of finding the cause of her alarm.
“Where is Darragh?” he asked. “Ye left together, did ye nae?”
“Darragh,” she started in a broken sob. She was usually more composed. She was a healer, after all, who had tended to even more life-threatening injuries, but no one had prepared her for having to tend to a lover. “We were attacked… I… Ayaan…”
Words tumbled out of her mouth in a jumbled mess, but they seemed to pick up on words like “arrow,” “shot,” and “blood,” and took off at a dead run, leaving her to trail behind them.
They soon hauled Darragh between them, and in no time, they had him lying down on the hall’s table. Concerned clansmen were guided away while Jenson ran upstairs to get her medical bag, returning in record time. This was one of those few moments when she saw the serious, efficient side of him.
Quickly, she retrieved the alcohol and cleaned the edges of the wound, then she examined it, judging that the arrow had not gone far in—more reason for her to believe it was poisoned.
She motioned for Jenson and Cohen to hold him still. They nodded and held him down firmly, and she set to work pulling wooden splinters out of his wound, swallowing down her tears as he thrashed in pain.
Eventually, the arrow was out, and she examined the silver head. At least Ayaan had not thought to use barbed arrows, but that might be because he trusted that what he had coated the arrowheads with was far deadlier.
She grabbed the head, and while the scent was faint, the bitterness was too evident. She recognized it.
Aconite.
Her heart thudded with fear. Looking over at Darragh, seeing him still breathing, his chest moving gently despite how pale he looked, she hoped that the quantity used was not enough to kill him.
Knowing Ayaan as long as she had, she hadn’t thought it possible that he would succumb so low as to try to take a life when he was a healer.
Where was his moral code?
She was frantic with worry but she had to bury those feelings to ensure she didn’t lose Darragh to the whims of an evil man.
Gathering some yarrow, honey, and a few other spices, she made a poultice that she applied to the wound, then she dribbled some of the decoction down Darraghe’s throat and hoped for the best.
“Miss Collins,” Jenson said gently from his spot by the fireplace, where he had been standing since they had returned Darragh to his bed. “Ye daenae need to stay here all night. I can look after him. I promise to send for ye if there are any changes.”
Talia looked back at Darragh. His face looked better, gaining back some color. His body was no longer hot with fever, but she did not trust that the fever would not return while she was away.
For some reason, fevers were more likely to claim their victims at night, so she was going to stand watch to wrestle him from the hands of the fever if it returned.
She knew her thoughts were not rooted in medical facts, but her fear for his life now far outweighed her logic. She would beg God to perform a miracle, anything it would take to have Darragh back.
“I am fine,” she said with a smile, ignoring the ache that bloomed in her back from bending over him throughout the night as she checked his temperature and dribbled more decoction down his throat.
Her pain was nothing compared to the pain he was enduring.
“It was me fault, after all. He wouldnae have gotten hurt if he didnae try to protect me.”
“Nonsense,” Orlagh said, stepping into the room.
“Ye didnae ask that fool to attack ye. It isnae yer fault that he lacked the sense God gives freely. Daenae let guilt win. Me son needs ye to be stronger more than ever, and if ye ever need a break, be assured that I would care for him well. I kind of served as a healer for a long time before ye arrived. Trust me, I wouldnae let me son die that easily.” She reached out and squeezed Talia’s arm, smiling.
How could she smile, with her son lying there, injured by his fiancée’s stalker? And she was the one consoling her?
Ridiculous. Talia had expected her to rage and blame her.
A part of her had been grateful when she realized Orlagh was not home when they first returned with Darragh, and even as she cared for Darragh, a part of her had been dreading meeting the woman and explaining the cause of her son’s life-threatening injury.
Now that her defenses had no purpose, she burst into tears. Immediately, she felt Orlagh’s arms wrap around her.
She marveled at the love this family bestowed on her. It was almost too good to be true.
Talia jerked awake, staring around the room dazedly before remembering that she was still in Darragh’s room after caring for him the whole night. But she must have fallen asleep after Orlagh left to get some rest.
She turned to look at her patient, and her mouth dropped open in shock.
“Well, good morning to ye too, Miss Collins,” he said, his voice scratchy.
“Ye are awake,” she returned dumbly, her eyes falling to their intertwined fingers. That must be what had woken her up.
“I am, and I am mighty happy to be alive. At some point, I was quite sure it was the end. Willnae want to—”
She threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She felt as if the weight of the world was suddenly lifted from her shoulders, and she broke down in tears.
“I am sorry for scaring ye,” he whispered, stroking her hair lightly. “Ye did well. It must have been verra difficult. I am mighty pleased to see yer face and hold ye again.”
He peered into her tear-stained face when she looked up at him. Gently, he wiped away her tears.
“Promise me,” she said tightly. “Promise me ye will never do that again.”
“Do what again?” he asked gently.
“Promise me ye will never put yer self in harm’s way again.”
“I am sorry,” he murmured. “I couldnae lose ye. I would walk into death’s den for ye. I love ye, Talia.”
“I couldnae bear it. If anything happens to ye, I willnae be able to go on.”
“What about me? Do ye think I will be fine in a world where ye are gone?”
“Ye are a laird. Ye eventually need to marry and have children.”
“I wouldnae be able to forgive meself if anythin’ happened to ye, Talia,” he replied hotly, attempting to sit up, before collapsing back with a groan. “I surely willnae marry if I am nae marryin’ ye.”
And that was when Talia realized that she was lying across his chest. She immediately jumped off him.
“I am sorry. It was wrong of me to argue with ye and crush ye when ye are still healing,” she said, turning to leave.
But he caught hold of her hand, stopping her.
He waited till she turned back to face him before speaking.
“I am nae complaining,” he said with a wide smile.
“I daenae feel the pain as much when ye are near.” He drew her closer, his expression turning serious.
“I meant what I said. I only want to marry ye. But if, for some reason, I am nae able to marry ye, I would remain single for the rest of me life.”
“Ye cannae be serious. What about an heir?” she asked.
“Jenson had always been me heir right from when I became Laird, and it will only change if we marry and have children of our own. If nae, he remains the heir, and knowing him, I daenae doubt that he would soon marry and sire children.”
While his declaration sounded fantastical at best, Talia could see that he meant it. This man, who had taken an arrow for her, would walk into death’s den to save her. His dedication to loving her was immense. The only thing she could do was love him back with all her strength.