Page 26 of Highland Ruse

Leasa nodded eagerly. “Of course.”

“Take this.” Delilah dropped her voice to a whisper. “And when we stop to eat, put it into their drinks.”

Leasa hesitated before reaching for the poison. “Will it harm them?” she asked in a small voice.

“It will make them ill,” Delilah said. “Nothing more. A distraction to ensure we arrive later than Elizabeth.”

Percy had said only a few drops would make someone ill for a day, and even more would result in up to a week of nausea, retching, and heavy exhaustion. There wasn’t enough in the bottle to kill anyone, so Delilah needn’t have a death on her conscience.

Leasa scooped the blue glass bottle from Delilah’s palm and tucked it into her own dress for safekeeping. “So long as it will not truly harm them,” Leasa said. “They’ve been kind to us.”

“But they have also taken us.” Delilah’s reminder was not for Leasa alone. She also needed to keep that one glaring thought forefront.

Her mission.

Kaid and Donnan were committing a serious offense and would ultimately need to be brought to justice.

• • •

The blood would never wash out.

Kaid sat once more in the jostling coach, the silence heavier and more uncomfortable than before in light of their recent ordeal.

He continued to stare at the smear of blood on the sleeve of his leine. He’d changed into fresh clothes after they’d disposed of the bodies, but somehow there had still been enough blood on him to leave the stain.

It pulled at his attention like a beacon on a moonless night, and he could not tear his gaze from it.

Nor could he stop the path of his thoughts on their slow downward spiral. He should have avoided the raw memories, but he curled them into his heart to suffer.

They were his punishment for failure.

“Kaid.” Elizabeth’s voice interrupted his inner turmoil.

He tried to shove aside the grate of irritation at having his penance interrupted. The sun flickered in through the narrow window of the coach, its brilliant light blinking in and out, like a dagger plunging repeatedly into Kaid’s skull.

If only his head did not ache.

He lifted his attention to Elizabeth and found her gaze fixed on him, her brow creased with concern. She was lovely, even when worried.

“Is everything well with you?” she asked.

He wanted to bark a mirthless laugh into the stuffy cabin and burst from its confines in an eruption of rage and sorrow.

Nothing was well with him. Not when so many of his people had been massacred, not when the remaining ones were so displeased, not when he had blood smeared on his clothing to remind him of even more misdeeds. More death.

Nothing would ever be well with him again.

“My head aches fiercely,” he offered finally. It was best not to admit the truth. Lady Elizabeth was a noble woman who had been horrified by the day’s events. He would not prod her pain any further with his own suffering.

“Were you injured?” She sat a little straighter in her observation, her face anxious.

Her concern was a momentary balm for the blazing anguish in his soul.

“Nay, lass. Dinna worry yerself. The headaches just come from time to time.” And they had. Ever since the attack. When sleeplessness had begun to plague him.

The valerian root.

He held the remnants in the pouch at his waist.