Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Why does it hurt?
Eloise sat at the edge of her bedchamber, her hands clenched tightly in her skirts as she stared at nothing. Her thoughts circled endlessly, refusing to settle, each one pulling her deeper into confusion.
James isnae mine, he never has been, never would be, and yet the sight of him with Mairead has cut me deeply.
She pressed her palm to her chest as though it might steady the ache there.
“I’ve nae right to feel this,” she whispered, though the words did nothing to ease it.
A knock sounded at the door, and she rose quickly, grateful for the distraction.
“Finally, Beatrice,” she called, brushing at her hair. “I’ve been waitin’ for ye to return from yer walk by the river.”
She pulled the door open, and froze. It was not Beatrice.
Mairead stood there, composed and calm, holding a tray with a teapot and two cups.
Eloise’s expression tightened. “Mairead,” she said cautiously.
Mairead dipped her head slightly, her gaze softer than Eloise had ever seen it. “I’ve come to apologize to ye,” she said. “And to explain meself… if ye will have a cup of tea with me.”
Eloise hesitated, her instinct urging her to refuse. She did not want this conversation. And yet… curiosity stirred beneath her resistance.
After a long pause, Eloise stepped back. “Ye may enter,” she said.
Mairead moved inside, setting the tray carefully upon the small table. She poured the tea with steady hands, then offered one cup to Eloise.
“Thank ye,” Eloise said quietly, accepting it.
They sat across from one another, the silence stretching between them as Eloise took a small sip.
Mairead watched her, then folded her hands in her lap. “What happened in the corridor… it was nae James’ fault,” she said gently.
Eloise’s gaze lifted. “Was it nae?” she asked, her tone measured.
Mairead shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “It was mine.” She hesitated, then continued. “I’ve had me heart set on him most of me life.”
Eloise softened slightly at that. “I can understand that,” she said.
“I lost control,” Mairead admitted, her voice tightening. “I thought… if he would only kiss me for the first time, he might see what I’ve always believed, that we belong together.”
Eloise blinked, startled. “Ye have never kissed?” she asked.
Mairead gave a small, sad smile. “Nay,” she said. “We have nae kissed. He has always been a gentleman.”
Eloise studied her, uncertainty flickering in her chest.
Is she speakin’ truth?
Or was this merely an attempt to soften what Eloise had seen? She kept the thought to herself, her expression neutral.
“Go on,” she said quietly.
Mairead drew in a steady breath. “I owe ye an apology,” she said. “For what I did, for how I behaved.” She met Eloise’s gaze fully now. “I am sorry.”
Eloise nodded slowly. “Thank ye,” she said.
Mairead’s lips pressed together briefly before she continued. “I see now that he has made his choice,” she said. “And I must accept it.”
Eloise’s stomach tightened.
“I will write to me father,” Mairead went on. “I will ask him to betroth me elsewhere.”
The words struck harder than Eloise expected, sending a sharp wave of panic through her.
This is wrong. She is givin’ up her future because of a lie. After I leave, James very well may marry her. But I cannae tell her that… can I?
Eloise’s grip tightened around her cup.
“Are ye well?” Mairead asked suddenly, her brow furrowing. “Ye look pale.”
Eloise blinked, pulling herself back. “I didnae sleep well,” she said quickly.
Mairead nodded in understanding. “Because James is away?” she asked.
Eloise hesitated. “Perhaps,” she said.
Mairead’s expression softened further. “Daenae worry,” she said gently. “He is a strong man. He returns unharmed every time he leaves for inspections.”
Eloise swallowed, her thoughts tangling further. “Aye,” she said softly. But the words did little to comfort her.
Because as she sat there, listening to Mairead speak with quiet acceptance, Eloise felt the weight of it all pressing down upon her.
The lie. The feelings she could not name.
The future she was already meant to leave behind.
And for the first time, she wondered if the greatest danger was not Laird Drummond…
but the truth she was hiding within these very walls…
because it could damage so many innocent people, like Mairead.
The gardens lay quiet beneath the soft afternoon light as Eloise walked beside Beatrice. Eloise kept her gaze forward, though her thoughts churned restlessly beneath her calm expression.
Beatrice glanced at her more than once, her sharp eyes missing little. “So then,” Beatrice began, her tone bright but probing, “what preparations have been made for the weddin’?”
Eloise stiffened slightly at the question, though she forced a small smile.
“Preparations will begin once James returns from his inspections,” Eloise replied, her voice measured.
Beatrice lifted a brow. “Have the invitations been sent out?” she pressed.
Eloise shook her head. “Nae yet,” she said. “We thought it best to wait.”
Beatrice tilted her head, studying her cousin closely. “And yer mother and father, have ye told them to come as of yet?” she asked.
Eloise hesitated only a moment. “I will send word soon,” she said, her tone carefully controlled.
Beatrice’s lips pressed together, unconvinced but not unkind. “Well, I can help ye, if ye like,” she offered.
Eloise nodded gratefully. “Thank ye, Bea,” she said softly. “I would appreciate that.”
They walked in silence for a time, the gravel crunching beneath their feet. Eloise felt the weight of it pressing down again, the lies, the expectations, the fragile balance she was barely holding together.
Beatrice slowed, then stopped entirely. “I cannae pretend any longer, cousin,” she said suddenly.
Eloise turned, startled by the seriousness in her voice.
“What do ye mean?” Eloise asked, though her heart had already begun to pound.
Beatrice met her gaze directly. “I ken that somethin' is wrong here,” she said. “I just daenae ken what it is.”
Eloise’s breath caught, her composure faltering at last. The truth rose sharp and urgent within her, pressing against her lips.
“Beatrice…” Eloise began, her voice trembling. She swallowed hard. “I… I…” The world tilted beneath her feet, the garden blurring into indistinct shapes. A strange lightness swept through her, followed by a sudden, crushing darkness. And then she fell.
When Eloise opened her eyes again, the world returned in fragments, soft light, the faint crackle of a fire. She blinked slowly, her head throbbing as she tried to focus.
“Oh, thank the heavens ye’ve awakened,” Beatrice’s voice said, close and urgent.
Eloise turned her head slightly and saw her cousin seated beside the bed, clutching her hand tightly.
“What… what happened?” Eloise murmured, her voice weak.
Beatrice leaned closer. “Ye fainted in the garden,” she said. “Collapsed without warning.”
Eloise frowned faintly. “That is… very odd,” she said.
She pushed herself up slightly, but the motion sent a wave of dizziness crashing over her.
“Careful!” Beatrice exclaimed, quickly steadying her. “Lie back, ye poor thing.”
Eloise pressed a hand to her temple. “I feel… unwell,” she admitted. “Me head aches somethin' fierce.”
Beatrice hurried to pour water from a nearby pitcher, pressing the cup into her hands.
“Drink,” she urged.
Eloise obeyed, taking small sips as she tried to steady herself.
“Fiona has gone to fetch the castle healer,” Beatrice added anxiously. “They say he was tending to people in the village, but she’s sent word.”
Eloise nodded faintly. “It will pass,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
Beatrice shook her head. “Nay, I daenae like it,” she said. “Ye’ve been pale all day, and now this.”
Eloise gave a weak attempt at a smile. “I assure ye, I am nae so fragile as all that.”
“Aye, well, ye looked dead enough when ye hit the ground,” Beatrice muttered, though relief softened her tone.
Eloise let out a faint breath of laughter, then winced as her head throbbed again. “Perhaps I am more tired than I thought,” she said.
A knock sounded at the door, and both women turned. The door opened, and Fiona entered, followed by a broad-shouldered man with graying hair and a worn leather satchel.
“Miss Eloise,” Fiona said gently, “this is Orick, the healer.”
Orick inclined his head respectfully. “Let me see ye, Miss Eloise,” he said, stepping forward.
Beatrice immediately rose, hovering nearby with Fiona, as he set his satchel down.
“She fainted without warnin’,” Beatrice said quickly.
“And she’s pale, and dizzy, and says her head aches,” Fiona added.
Orick nodded calmly. “Aye, one thing at a time,” he said, placing a steady hand on Eloise’s forehead.
Eloise watched him warily. “It was naught,” she insisted softly. “Just a moment’s weakness.”
Orick hummed under his breath, unimpressed. “We’ll decide that soon enough,” he said. He checked examined her and studied her eyes carefully.
Beatrice wrung her hands. “Is she ill?” she asked.
“Has she caught somethin’? Should she be moved?” Fiona asked.
Orick glanced at them with mild patience. “Lasses, ye’ll have answers soon enough if ye give me a moment to think,” he said.
Beatrice flushed but nodded quickly.
Eloise lay still as he finished his examination, her thoughts drifting uneasily. Something felt… different. Not quite pain, not quite illness, but something she could not name. She swallowed slowly, her fingers tightening in the blankets.
“What is it?” Eloise asked.
Orick straightened, his expression thoughtful rather than alarmed. He looked between the two women, then back to Eloise.
“Well now,” he said slowly, “this may be somethin’… or it may be nothin’ at all. I need more time to ken what this is.”
“The Laird returns!” the gate guards shouted.
James rode hard through the castle gates, his horse lathered and restless beneath him as he pulled the reins tight. Callum rode beside him, both coming to a halt.
Before he could dismount fully, a guard rushed forward, breathless and pale.
“Me Laird!” he shouted.
James narrowed his eyes immediately, reading the man’s panicked expression with cold precision.
“What is it?” he demanded sharply.
The guard swallowed. “It is Miss Eloise, me Laird,” he said. “She has fallen ill… it is said she is in a very bad way.”
James did not wait another second. He swung down from his horse and shoved the reins into the guard’s hands.
“See to the beast,” he snapped. His boots struck hard against the stone as he broke into a run for the door, his breath coming fast.
Nae Eloise… I cannae lose her… God help her… save her.
His thoughts pounded in rhythm with his steps. Fear, sharp and unfamiliar, gripped his chest as he raced through the corridors.
He reached her chamber and threw the door open without ceremony.
“Eloise!” he called, his voice rough with urgency.
“Me Laird, ye've returned,” Fiona dipped into a curtsy.
Beatrice rose quickly from beside the bed, her face drawn with worry.
“She rests, me Laird,” she said, her voice low but steady.
James barely heard her as he crossed the room in long strides.
He dropped to his knees beside the bed and seized Eloise’s hand, his grip firm but trembling. Her skin was warm, too warm, and her breathing shallow.
“Eloise,” he said again, softer now, desperate.
Her lashes fluttered, and slowly, she stirred. “James…” she murmured weakly.
“I’m here now,” he said quickly, leaning closer. “I’m sorry I was gone. Eloise, hold on… daenae give in.” His voice cracked despite himself.
Her lips curved faintly, her strength barely there. “I’m glad ye’ve returned, James,” she whispered.
He swallowed hard, his gaze scanning her pale face, her weakened form.
“I would have returned immediately if I had kent sooner,” he said, anger lacing every word.
She gave the slightest shake of her head. “Nay matter… ye are here now,” she murmured.
Her eyes closed again, and she slipped back into sleep.
James remained frozen for a moment, his hand still gripping hers. A storm of emotion churned beneath his controlled exterior, fear, guilt, and a rising, dangerous anger.
I should have been here. I should have protected her.
He rose slowly, turning toward Beatrice and Fiona with a hard look. “What happened?” he demanded.
Beatrice clasped her hands tightly. “We were walkin’ in the garden two days past,” she said. “She stopped, tried to speak… and then she fainted. She’s been like this ever since.”
James’s jaw tightened. “Where is the healer?” he asked sharply.
“He has been summoned, me Laird,” Fiona said.
The door opened and Orick stepped inside.
“Me Laird,” Orick said, inclining his head.
James gestured sharply toward the sitting area as he motioned everyone to follow.
“Speak,” he said. The three of them moved away from the bed, though James kept glancing back at Eloise as though unwilling to stray too far.
“I am glad ye’ve returned,” Orick began calmly. “Her condition has been… unusual.”
James folded his arms, his gaze dark. “What happened to her?” he pressed.
Orick hesitated only briefly. “Her symptoms, faintness, weakness, the fever, are consistent with… belladonna,” he said. “Though it may have been accidental.” Silence fell heavily over the room.
“Nothing is accidental,” James said coldly.
Beatrice gasped softly. “Belladonna?” she repeated, her voice trembling.
“Ye mean… poison?” Fiona asked.
Orick nodded once. “In large enough quantity, aye,” he said.
Beatrice’s hand flew to her mouth. “What is to be done?” she asked, panic rising in her voice.
Orick remained steady. “I have sent a guard to the village,” he said. “There is an herb that may counter its effects. He should return within the hour.”
James said nothing for a long moment, his gaze fixed and burning. Then he turned back toward the bed.
“Do what ye must,” he said quietly. “She will live. I willnae have it any other way.”
The rest of the night stretched endlessly. James refused to leave her side, seated close with his hand wrapped around hers as though sheer will alone might anchor her to this world.
What have I done? I took her in so that she may escape the same fate me sister faced with Drummond. Instead of keeping her safe I have sent her on the same path.
Orick returned with the remedy and carefully administered the bitter herbal tea, coaxing Eloise to drink in small amounts when she stirred.
Each time her eyes opened, James leaned forward immediately. “Stay with me,” he murmured more than once. “Daenae leave me.”
James knew that Beatrice lingered nearby, though her worry gave way to exhaustion as the hours dragged on and she fell asleep in a chair.
Still, James did not move. His focus remained entirely on Eloise.
But beneath that stillness, something darker took root.
Belladonna. Poison. Treachery.
His gaze hardened as he stared into the dim light of the chamber. Someone had done this. Someone within his walls had harmed her.
And as he tightened his grip on Eloise’s hand, James made a silent, unyielding vow.
I will find them.