Page 51 of Highlander’s Sweet Poison

“Nay.” He looked at Alec. “The challenge will be postponed. Yer child is dying from a poisonous berry. My wife is attempting to gather the ingredients for an antidote, but one of the herbs doesnae grow here. The closest is on Armstrong lands.”

“My son?” Alan asked, his face tight.

“Nay, your daughter.”

When the man visibly relaxed, Graeme wanted to punch him. “No need to postpone the challenge then. I wish to get this over with.”

How could Graeme’s father ever have allowed Annella to marry this man? “Ye may have no love for yer daughter, but I do, and I am more concerned about helping my wife save her life and the lives of all the other children than about fighting ye. Perhaps now the council can see just where yer heart may lie if ye were to succeed. It isnae the people ye care about but power, and I will never allow ye to have it.”

Turning, he stormed out, his thoughts only on his wife and the lives she was desperately trying to save.

25

The children would sleep through the night, but a cold fear still gripped Jillian as she stared down at them. There were so many things that could take them before the antidote was ready. Jillian had never seen a case such as this, but she’d read extensively about it. In some cases, their throats closed up, and in others, their hearts stopped. Some healers believed in bleeding, but Jillian suspected that the only thing that could save them was the antidote.

All she could do was wait.

Her body ached from leaning over the beds and helping to change the children when their clothes soaked through from sweat. On her orders, some of the women slept, including Bridgette and Annella, but they were stirring now. There were only a few hours left of the night.

“Ye need to get some sleep, Jillian,” Annella said as she quickly walked to her daughter and ran a hand down her cheek. “If there is nothing more ye can do, then ye need to rest.”

The illness of a child had a strange effect on Annella, and she seemed stronger than ever before. When Alan stepped in earlier to see what was happening, Annella all but threw him out before he could bother Jillian. She hadn’t apologized, but she didn’t need to. All her energy was on her daughter.

Alexina and Kylie both stepped in to help as well as the other parents. At times, it felt like there were too many people in the room.

“The men won’t return until tomorrow evening. The children will need to be kept clean and...”

“We can do that,” Bridgette interrupted. “We will take over, and if anything should happen, we will come get ye. The men will return tomorrow, and ye will need to prep the herbs as quickly as possible. Sleep.”

She was exhausted. “All right. If ye will lend me a bedroll...”

“Nay,” a voice interrupted from behind. She didn’t need to turn to know that Graeme was there. He’d been there for hours, silently watching her, and fetching whatever she needed. “Nay, ye will sleep in yer bed tonight so ye can be well-rested tomorrow. Come. I will escort ye.”

As much as she wanted to argue, she didn’t have the strength. As soon as he put his arms around her, she nearly sagged against him. “I will get a cart for ye...”

“Nay.” Chuckling at the idea of her husband wheeling her to the keep, she shook her head. “Nay, I can make it. Just let me fetch my cloak.”

The words were barely out of her mouth before the heavy fabric draped around her shoulders. She took one last look at the worried mothers and fathers. “They are all strong and healthy children. I have to believe that they will make it,” she said fiercely. “Should their breathing change or their temperatures spike, come wake me.”

One woman burst into tears and leaned forward to hug her. “I am so sorry for all the things I thought about ye. My Daniella would be dead right now if it were not for ye.”

The other nodded in agreement. Embarrassed, Jillian extricated herself. “There is no need to apologize. If all goes well, I will return in a few hours.”

Graeme took her hand as they walked back to the keep. “I know ye have other things on yer mind, but I wanted to tell ye that I will never imprison ye, Jillian. I saw ye with Art and grew jealous. It didnae sit well with me, and I should never have lashed out at ye like that.”

“They didnae call me a witch at home,” Jillian told him quietly. “They called me the whore of the devil. I had a wonderful family and such good friends growing up, but when it came time for me to wed, I had naught but an uncle, and he told me to never marry for anything less than love. I spurned suitors and refused to marry, like Kylie, and the village turned on me. By the time Fulton came through, I was searching desperately for an out, and he was the answer. He didnae ask for more than I was willing to give, but he saw the scars one day when I was bathing in the river, and he was so angry on my behalf. He offered to escort me anywhere and asked for nothing in return.”

“And ye fell in love with him,” Graeme said in a strange voice.

“I thought it at the time, but now I know that it wasnae deep enough to be love. I clung to the idea that it would be all right, but after we married and returned here, Fulton changed.”

“Jillian, ye dinnae have to tell me this.”

She was so tired that the pain of her memories did not affect her as they should. Now was the time to tell him. “His love turned into an obsession. If I didnae dote on him, he accused me of an affair. If I smiled at another man, he hit me for teasing another. Even though I was married, men still approached me and confessed their love. I never once told Fulton for fear of what he would do, and I always turned the men away.”

“Alan?” Graeme asked.

Her lip curled in disgust. “Alan did more than ask. He tried to touch me, and I hit him and broke his nose. After that, the rumors of witchcraft started, and Fulton grew even more deranged. He accused me of bewitching him. I wondered how much longer it would be before he killed me.”