Chapter 14
Nora opened her eyes to a pounding headache. She was lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. That was strange, since she always slept on one side or the other.
She shifted, briefly wondering why her limbs and back ached so much.
Her tongue was dry and stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she had to consciously work moisture back into it.
She was also hungry, her stomach rumbling loudly.
Through the gap in her curtains, she saw that the sun was either rising or setting, with red streaks crossing the sky.
Why was it so hard for her to understand what had happened?
Where was Laurie? She couldn’t even remember climbing back into bed the night before. All of it felt wrong.
Shifting again, Nora frowned, trying to establish the cause of the wrongness she felt. This was her room, this was her bed, her…
She froze. The nightdress was different.
It wasn’t her own threadbare linen gown, but something crisper, stiffer, different, laced up at the throat instead of buttoned.
Under the nightdress, of course, she was naked, the unfamiliar material sticking to her bare skin.
Sucking in a panicked breath, she forced her aching body into a sitting position, clawing at the sheets, trying to remember to breathe.
“Ah. Ye are awake.”
Creighton’s voice made her freeze. Slowly, Nora looked over to her right.
There he sat, sprawled on a chair pulled up beside her bed, long legs stretched out comfortably in front of him.
The bedroom was dim, lit only by a dying fire and the flickering light of a single candle, casting a flickering, yellow glow over his sharp features.
He smiled. “Sleep well?”
“What are ye doin’ in here?” she managed at last, her voice only quavering a little bit.
He sniffed, inspecting the dusty toe of one boot. “Mostly makin’ sure ye are nae goin’ to die in yer sleep. We were a little afraid that ye might, at one point.”
A prickle of unease slid down her spine. “Have I been ill?”
He turned that unblinking gaze onto her. “Ye daenae remember what happened?”
She shook her head. “At least, nae all of it. Things blurred, and I daenae… I daenae understand how I came to be here. What happened?”
“Ye were found in the kitchen,” he responded at once, gaze lingering on her. “Unconscious. Ye had vomited. Tell me the last thing ye remember.”
The kitchen? Memories flooded back, sharp and powerful enough to make Nora flinch and squint.
She looked around for water, finding a jug of it and a cup waiting beside her bed.
She’d been placed in the center of her bed and struggled feebly to reach it.
Creighton got silently to his feet, brushing away her questing hands.
He poured a cupful and handed it to her.
“Small sips,” he advised. “Yer stomach is empty. Ye will feel weak, and probably queasy. We daenae want ye vomitin’ again.”
“I ken, I ken. I’m a healer, remember?” she shot back a little snippily.
He sat down again, grinning, unperturbed by her sharpness. “Aye, but healin’ others is very different from healin’ oneself. It’s easy to brush away somebody else’s pain and discomfort.”
“I never brush away somebody’s pain.”
He considered her for a long moment.
“Nay,” he said at last. “I daenae imagine that ye do. Go on, then. Ye were goin’ to tell me the last thing ye remember.”
She let out a shaky breath. The few sips of water tasted delicious, cool and fresh on her tongue, bringing a rush of strength.
“I went down to the kitchen to fetch Laurie’s shortbread. She wanted to eat some before bed.”
His gaze sharpened. “And then what?”
“I ate one meself. They looked so delicious. But the taste was bad, it was off, somehow. I remember thinkin’ that perhaps they were stale, or perhaps the cook had forgotten the sugar.
Anyway, I decided that Laurie shouldnae eat them, and I threw them away.
That’s the last thing I remember. After that…
” She frowned, narrowing her eyes. “I think I remember feelin’ ill, then nothin’. ”
He gave a curt nod, as if she’d said exactly what he expected. “That makes sense. As I said, ye had vomited and collapsed.”
She picked at the edges of a rich blanket, pleating the valuable material into countless little folds. “So I ate bad shortbread?”
“That’s one possibility. Another possibility is that ye were poisoned.”
She sucked in a breath. “Ah.”
“Ye daenae seem surprised.”
She shrugged. “Eatin’ somethin’ harmful can cause symptoms similar to those of poisonin’. Folks have died from eating bad meat.”
“So they have. But then they only have themselves to blame, themselves and bad luck,” he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We are afraid that this poisonin’ was deliberate. I’ve never ken anybody get so ill from bad shortbread.”
“Nor have I,” she admitted. “If it were a deliberate poisonin’, what would be the reason for it? I daenae understand.”
He shrugged broad shoulders. “Either somebody wanted to kill me sister, or somebody wanted to kill ye. Which, of course, would only lead to their death. Whoever poisoned ye will be treadin’ very carefully right about now. They will nae wish to be discovered.”
A shudder rolled through Nora’s body. Goosebumps rose up on her arms, revealed by the nightgown sleeves, which only came to her elbows. “The shortbread was made for Laurie. Surely ye daenae think that I could have been the target?”
Creighton weighed this thought for a moment before answering.
“That is true, but it all seemed very purposeful. Laurie’s nurse was struck with a sudden bad stomach and was unable to get the shortbread herself.
She had eaten sparingly at the evening meal with the other servants, and nothing seemed to have gone bad.
Nobody else had a bad stomach, and if it was indeed bad food, we’d have seen more illness.
I cannae decide who the target truly was here.
Perhaps both of ye. I cannae afford to rule out anythin’. ”
Swallowing, Nora tucked her cold arms under the blankets. “Have ye investigated? Does anybody ken anythin’?”
He shook his head. “All of the maids were questioned. Apparently, Laurie’s shortbread was made with the rest of the food and sent up to the feastin’ table by mistake.
It was still there. Where the poisoned shortbread came from is anybody’s guess.
Nobody saw anythin’. Did ye see anyone in the kitchen? ”
“There was a wee boy sleepin’ by the fire, but he was sound asleep.”
Creighton nodded. “I ken the lad. He sleeps like the dead, and it would have been easy enough for somebody to creep around without wakin’ him. He was spoken to with the rest, and said that ye came in for the shortbread. He left before ye ate.”
“Aye, I remember.” Nora fell back against the pillows. Her heart was thumping powerfully at the simple movement. Why did she feel so drained?
Will I be poisoned again?
The thought made her chest constrict, and a shudder rolled through her.
As if sensing her fear, Creighton got up from the chair, taking a few steps closer until he loomed over her bedside. Staring down at her, his face remained impassive, but his eyes were tight and almost angry.
“Daenae worry, lassie,” he drawled. “I will find whoever is responsible for this. I’ll find them, and I will kill them with me bare hands. Daenae fret, they’ll nae be able to touch ye again. I’ll take care of ye.”
The moisture Nora had recently replenished in her mouth disappeared. She looked up at him, her jaw slightly slack, and her tongue suddenly feeling very dry again.
I’ll take care of ye. When was the last time she’d been taken care of?
The older sister looked after the younger; everybody knew that.
Not that Margaret needed much caring for, but neither did she have a talent for caring for others.
As a healer, it was Nora’s job, her purpose, to care for others.
That was the way it was. Already, her mind was ticking through how she could investigate this poisoning, who she could talk to, what precautions she could take, and now here was Creighton telling her not to fuss, that it was all in hand.
Clearing her throat, she averted her gaze. “I see. Well, that’s good to hear. Th-Thank ye.”
He nodded wordlessly, gaze still fixed on her.
What does he see on me face? She thought a little wildly. Fear? Confusion? Or somethin’ deeper? High time for a change of subject.
“This is nae me nightgown,” she managed at last, her voice only a little unsteady. “Somebody must have changed me into it.”
“Aye, I ordered that. Got ye a fresh nightgown, as yer others looked as though they might fall apart under the weight of a heavy stare.”
She flushed. “Well, who changed me?”
A slow, wicked grin crept over his face. “It wasnae me, if that is what ye were thinkin’.”
Nora said nothing, but was fairly sure that the redness creeping through her face would be eloquent enough on her behalf.
“I had the maids change ye,” he continued, abruptly returning to his chair, stretching out his legs again as if this were his room and his chair.
Well, in a way, I suppose it is.
“I see,” she managed weakly. “I’m glad.”
“Mm-hm,” he acknowledged, watching her closely. That smile still lingered on his face. There was something knowing about it, something that sparked a hot sensation in Nora’s face. Not an unpleasant sensation, but something unfamiliar.
“When I undress ye,” he continued, slowly and evenly, “Ye will be fully conscious. Fully conscious, and fully begging for it.”
It took a split second for her to understand what he meant. If she’d been red before, her cheeks turned positively crimson now. Was there any blood circling her body, or was it all concentrated in her face?
“Aye, well, enough of that,” she snapped, with a little more venom than she’d intended.
Far from being offended, he let out a roar of laughter, clapping his hands and throwing his head back.