Read Online Highland Fire (Guardians of the Stone) by Tanya Anne Crosby - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Tanya Anne Crosby
Tags: Historical Romance
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as well, for the herbs were far more valuable than any dress she owned, including this ridiculous gown David had gifted her with. For her son, she’d left but a few herbs, primarily rosemary to help him ward away the terrible dreams he suffered by night. But she had also left a few medicinals with a nursemaid she trusted. Her son was a healthy lad, though she worried about him anyway. He was her only son and she missed him more than words could say.
They had given her one year to see her new husband dead—one year to contemplate the atrocities they would commit upon her son if she did not obey.
Lael’s words came back to taunt her: My sisters may not recall what betrayal looks like, but my brother and I will n’er forget.
What did she know? Was betrayal written so clearly upon Lìli’s face even though she did not even know how she would accomplish the task? Could she murder a man in cold blood? More than anything, for once in her life, she hoped the curse was true, for then she could lay Aidan’s death squarely upon his own hands, for it was his kin who had cursed her, after all.
Save for one wee complication... to die from the curse, Aidan would have to love her, and the affection of the laird of Dubhtolargg was something she doubted she would ever earn. Considering the dark look Aidan had given her before he’d abandoned her to his sisters, she would be quite fortunate if he didn’t strangle her in their bed on their wedding night.
But of course, she preferred not to think of that right now.
She was no innocent maid. She understood what would come and what would be expected of her, and the thought of the bedding made her cheeks flame. An image of Aidan, standing nearly bare upon the dock accosted her, and she shoved it away, unable to bear the thought, for it made her belly flutter and her heart dance against her ribs.
Reining in her wayward thoughts, she rifled through her chest.
Amidst her belongings, there was one small pouch she truly hoped never to open. The tiny brown nondescript sack contained a very deadly concentration of nightshade and hemlock—so potent that one must endeavor not to even touch it with bare hands. Also inside that sack was the ring Rogan had given her—a poison ring so she might lace Aidan’s food or drink without his notice.
It crossed her mind to wonder why Rogan would have such a trinket to begin with. If Stuart had not perished in the manner he had, surrounded by witnesses, she might begin to wonder if his brother had intended the device for him. Certainly Rogan was capable of it. Shuddering at the thought, she shoved the pouch with the ring down deeper into her chest, concealing it. Another small pouch, similar in color, was full of rose petals, and she snatched that one out and closed the chest.
Rose petals had many uses, but she most loved to throw the petals in her bath water. These, however, were no longer supple, so she would use them to freshen her wedding gown. She took from her coffers a far plainer bliaut, a deep sapphire blue gown fashioned from soft wool, with light-blue embroidery along the hem and sleeves. She had sewn the dress herself and was quite proud of the result, even if it was worn now with age. As Rogan had intended, she had made her appearance in the lavish gown David had gifted her with, and now she would leave it for her wedding night and wear something far more appropriate to the weather. This far north the night would bring a chill.
Stuart had once told her that the color of her blue gown complimented her eyes—but that was not why she chose it.
Besides, she told herself it didn’t matter what Aidan dún Scoti thought of her.
In the pouch, there was also a phial of rosewater, which she used to scent her bath water. Not daring to tarry much longer, she made quick work of her bath, donning the gown hurriedly and then retrieving her beloved arisaid from her coffer.
Until she was duly wed she saw no reason not to continue wearing the MacLaren
They had given her one year to see her new husband dead—one year to contemplate the atrocities they would commit upon her son if she did not obey.
Lael’s words came back to taunt her: My sisters may not recall what betrayal looks like, but my brother and I will n’er forget.
What did she know? Was betrayal written so clearly upon Lìli’s face even though she did not even know how she would accomplish the task? Could she murder a man in cold blood? More than anything, for once in her life, she hoped the curse was true, for then she could lay Aidan’s death squarely upon his own hands, for it was his kin who had cursed her, after all.
Save for one wee complication... to die from the curse, Aidan would have to love her, and the affection of the laird of Dubhtolargg was something she doubted she would ever earn. Considering the dark look Aidan had given her before he’d abandoned her to his sisters, she would be quite fortunate if he didn’t strangle her in their bed on their wedding night.
But of course, she preferred not to think of that right now.
She was no innocent maid. She understood what would come and what would be expected of her, and the thought of the bedding made her cheeks flame. An image of Aidan, standing nearly bare upon the dock accosted her, and she shoved it away, unable to bear the thought, for it made her belly flutter and her heart dance against her ribs.
Reining in her wayward thoughts, she rifled through her chest.
Amidst her belongings, there was one small pouch she truly hoped never to open. The tiny brown nondescript sack contained a very deadly concentration of nightshade and hemlock—so potent that one must endeavor not to even touch it with bare hands. Also inside that sack was the ring Rogan had given her—a poison ring so she might lace Aidan’s food or drink without his notice.
It crossed her mind to wonder why Rogan would have such a trinket to begin with. If Stuart had not perished in the manner he had, surrounded by witnesses, she might begin to wonder if his brother had intended the device for him. Certainly Rogan was capable of it. Shuddering at the thought, she shoved the pouch with the ring down deeper into her chest, concealing it. Another small pouch, similar in color, was full of rose petals, and she snatched that one out and closed the chest.
Rose petals had many uses, but she most loved to throw the petals in her bath water. These, however, were no longer supple, so she would use them to freshen her wedding gown. She took from her coffers a far plainer bliaut, a deep sapphire blue gown fashioned from soft wool, with light-blue embroidery along the hem and sleeves. She had sewn the dress herself and was quite proud of the result, even if it was worn now with age. As Rogan had intended, she had made her appearance in the lavish gown David had gifted her with, and now she would leave it for her wedding night and wear something far more appropriate to the weather. This far north the night would bring a chill.
Stuart had once told her that the color of her blue gown complimented her eyes—but that was not why she chose it.
Besides, she told herself it didn’t matter what Aidan dún Scoti thought of her.
In the pouch, there was also a phial of rosewater, which she used to scent her bath water. Not daring to tarry much longer, she made quick work of her bath, donning the gown hurriedly and then retrieving her beloved arisaid from her coffer.
Until she was duly wed she saw no reason not to continue wearing the MacLaren
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