Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
“Nonsense,” Iain said and grabbed the slice of pie from Grace’s plate, biting into it. He chewed. “Delicious.” He waved at the food. “If the murdering woman wanted Grace dead, the poison would be put into something only she would eat.”
“Like my favorite tarts?” she asked, eyeing the yellow custard offerings topped with currants.
“I eat those too,” Iain said. He reached over and squeezed her hand, which was fisted around her eating knife. “I would not let ye ever come to harm. Winnie is gone. I told her I love ye and no one else. So she left, never to return.” With that, he bit into one of the custard tarts.
“The poison doesn’t make ye sick for hours after ye eat it,” Rory said. “And by then ’tis too late to vomit it up.”
Cyrus watched Iain chew. “Then the skin and eyes turn yellow, ye swell, shite yerself, and puke until ye die.”
Iain huffed. “If ye’re worried, don’t eat at our table.”
Grace stared at the food. “I’ve been eating here for a month now without a problem.”
Could Winnie have traveled up to Staffin by now? She’d had a few days’ head start after Gilbert had taken the poison before anyone had realized that his stomach ailment was serious.
Cyrus met Grace’s gaze. “I don’t know what is safe anymore, and I don’t know where the woman is currently.”
“I will question the staff,” Grace said, standing. “Cy, come with me so you can observe their responses. You’re ever so good at prying out secrets.”
She glanced at the back of Iain’s head, but the man continued to eat, shoving tarts into his mouth as if he were a starving lad left alone with the plate.
Cyrus stood, glancing at Rory. “Perhaps speak further about the council with Iain.”
Rory’s lips quirked, but he turned a smile on Iain. “What shape table do ye think we should make for the council? Hexagonal, an octagon? We wouldn’t want anyone accusing us of being Camelot.”
Cyrus followed his sister through the alcove that led down a stone corridor toward the kitchens. After several steps, Grace grabbed his arm. He let her lead him into a small room off to the side that held stacked barrels and a wall of shelved jars. She shut the door behind them.
“Quickly because I’m seldom alone,” she said, and the tension he’d seen briefly before returned with her frown.
“Are ye not safe?”
“None of us are safe if there’s a poisoner on the loose,” Grace said, then waved her hand, dismissing Winnie for the time being. “Iain has treated me fine, but I’m being extra careful not to be difficult.”
Cyrus blinked, jests on his tongue, but this was no time for them. “But ye feel something is…off?”
She nodded. “For one thing, as soon as you left, Jasper Whitt waltzed back into Tuath Tower as if nothing was amiss. He wasn’t questioned about Iain’s mother as far as I know. I haven’t seen him since then.”
“He’s dead.”
Grace’s hand pressed against her chest. “What happened?”
“He followed us to Dun Haakon and tried to abduct Laria. He made the unwise choice to stab her.”
Grace paled and swallowed. “Is Laria dead, too?” Her hand went to his arm.
“Nay. She survived.”
Grace touched his cheek, searching his eyes. “You love her, don’t you?”
He nodded, studying his sister’s gaze. “Aye.”
“Will you marry her?”
“I hope to.”
She dropped her hand, her worry seeming to turn inward. “Iain will not like that.”
“Grace, I’m not leaving ye in this danger again. Laria couldn’t convince ye to come away, but I am taking ye.” He shook his head. “I’m not the brother who marries his sister to a fiend and forgets about her.”
A small smile returned. “I know you aren’t.”
Cyrus studied her. “Ye told Laria when ye helped her escape that ye didn’t believe her about Iain’s wickedness. Do ye believe her now?”
Her smile flattened. “Do you?”
“Aye. Iain is strategically working to take over Clan Mackinnon. First marrying ye, then forcing Laria to try to kill me. I believe he then sent Winnie to kill Father. She continued to Dunscaith to kill her husband, Gilbert Macdonald.” He met her gaze directly.
“She wants Iain as her husband. She will come to poison ye next.”
“You think Iain knows,” she flapped her hand in a nervous gesture, “about Winnie wanting that?”
He tipped his head. “The woman might be acting on her own. Iain won’t marry her, though, until he’s secured Dun Haakon for his own.”
Her eyes opened wider. “So Iain wants to kill you, and Winnie Mar wants to kill me.”
“I believe so, aye.” He squeezed her hand. “Jasper Whitt mentioned joining Macdonald forces when Patrick was killed.”
“Patrick?” She blinked.
“He confessed to using a poisoned blade when he slashed Patrick. I think Iain ordered that to begin his strategy.”
Her eyes narrowed, a familiar sharpness twisting her face. Grace looked like their mother more than ever. “Do you know,” she said, “Iain has nightmares about his old nursemaid, Penny? Which is why I don’t understand why he calls all the maids that name.”
“Has he hurt ye or threatened ye?”
“No. He’s rather forceful in bed, but ’tis nothing I cannot handle. He watches me brush my hair and treat my skin to keep it smooth. It makes me wonder if he’s checking for wrinkles.”
“But he hasn’t said he’s found fault with ye?”
She shook her head, her gaze dropping. “I make sure to wake before him and clean my teeth and tame my hair. I look beautiful before he opens his eyes.”
Bloody hell. Cyrus pulled his sister into his arms for a hug. “I’m taking ye back to Dun Haakon, Grace.”
She wiped at a tear that had swelled from her eye. “Let’s go check the food. I’m ravenous but would prefer not to die.”