Highland Wolf (Highland Brides, #10)(84)

“Now,” Mhairi muttered, straightening to approach her, knife in hand. “Sadly, because I did no’ eradicate the blight as I’d originally thought, he’s managed to infect ye with his corruption and lustful ways. And I’m sorry fer that lass. I truly am. But ye’ve surely suffered enough, and ’tis time I put ye out o’ yer misery.”

Claray’s eyes widened with horror when the woman raised the knife overhead. When Mhairi started to plunge it downward, she instinctively threw her weight to the side, trying to get out of the way.





Chapter 25




“Nightshade?” Conall echoed with dismay.

“Aye,” Allistair said miserably. “I’m sorry, m’laird. I do no’ ken how it got into Stubborn Bastard’s stall. I mean, someone must ha’e put it in there, but I ha’e been here all day and I do no’ ken how it was put in without me seein’. And I do no’ ken how long ’twas in with him ere I noticed.”

Conall waved that away and asked the question he thought more important at the moment. “Did he eat any o’ it?”

Allistair peered into the stall and shook his head sadly. “I do no’ ken.”

Conall wanted to ask if there was anything the man did ken, but bit back his temper, and stared at Stubborn Bastard unhappily.

“Nightshade’ll kill a horse as sure as it does people,” Roderick said in a solemn rumble.

“Aye,” Payton agreed. “And I’m thinkin’ Claray would be fair distraught if she lost her horse.”

Conall ran a hand wearily through his hair, knowing everything they said was true.

“Do ye think we should tell Lady Claray?” Allistair asked reluctantly. “I mean, we do no’ even ken if he ate any. Mayhap he did no’, and ’twill be fine,” he said hopefully.

“Mayhap,” Conall muttered, hoping that would be the case. He was not eager to be the bearer of these particular tidings to Claray. She loved the big, dumb horse, and would most like blame him for having the beast moved to a stall and out of the way of the men working. He’d insisted on it after Stubborn Bastard had taken a bite out of one of the men’s arses when he’d got in the way of the horse following Claray. She hadn’t been pleased at his being locked up in a stall, but had understood. That understanding would go out the window though if the great beast died.

“Christ!” he muttered with disgust. “Nightshade. Why the hell would anyone want to kill the horse?”

“Ye mean aside from the poor bastard he bit?” Roderick asked dryly.

Conall grimaced at the words.

“M’laird?” Allistair queried. “Do we ha’e to tell her?”

“I’m thinkin’ ye probably should.”

Conall turned sharply at those apologetic words to see Hamish standing at the entrance to the stables, his concerned gaze on Stubborn Bastard. Obviously, he’d been standing there long enough to understand what was happening.

After a hesitation, Conall shook his head. “There’s no sense upsettin’ her when it may no’ be necessary.”

“Aye. He may no’ have even eaten any of the nightshade,” Allistair pointed out with a desperation Conall understood. The stable master adored Claray for both her skill with animals, and for insisting they build a room onto the stables for him to sleep in. She was a goddess in the stable master’s eyes and he did not want to disappoint her any more than Conall did.

“But what if he did eat it?” Hamish asked, and pointed out, “If so, Lady Claray may ken a remedy fer the poison. If she does, and ye did no’ tell her about this, and Stubborn Bastard dies . . .” He shook his head. “I suspect she’ll never forgive ye.”

“He has a point,” Roderick said solemnly.

Conall cursed at the words and closed his eyes briefly at the thought of her reaction if the beast died. It would not be good, he thought grimly.

“I’ll tell her,” Allistair said, his shoulders straightening. “I’m the one responsible fer his care, and I’m the one who was here when nightshade was put in his stall. I’ll tell her, and ask does she ken a remedy.”

“Nay.” Conall shook his head wearily. “I’ll tell me wife meself.”

He strode out of the stables, unsurprised when Roderick and Payton followed. Conall crossed the bailey at a quick clip to keep anyone from stopping him with questions or worries. The sooner he got this done, the better. If the horse had eaten some of the nightshade, and there was a remedy, it did seem that the more swiftly it was administered, the better. Besides, to his mind, it was always best to get unpleasant tasks done quickly, and this was going to be unpleasant. Not because he thought Claray would rail at him or even blame him, but because she would be upset and worried and—

Good God, what if she cried? Conall thought with horror. He’d never seen his wife cry, not properly anyway. A tear or two had leaked from her eye in the gardens their first night here, but that had been from stress and anxiety over the large job ahead of them, not from grief or true upset. It would break his heart to see her having a proper cry now. But she loved that horse, so the chances were good that he was about to. The idea was almost enough to make him turn around and walk the other way, but he straightened his shoulders and carried on manfully, making it all the way to the keep without being stopped, and much too quickly for his liking.