“That witch should be cast into the dungeon,” Mrs. Thistlewick said as she wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. “And her brother with her.”
Lorna shook her head. “No. Not yet. We need to figure out her angle before we confront her.”
“Her angle?” Jasper repeated.
“Aye.” Lorna idly combed her fingers through Gunn’s hair, trying to put it in order. “Why would she kill him? How would that benefit her? They are not man and wife yet.” She frowned at the war chief. “Or is there something in the contract about what happens if Gunn dies before the thirty days are up?”
“Nay. If the man dies, she gets nothing but a noose.” Jasper scratched his chin as he studied the temporarily relaxed chieftain. “Was this how ye found him? In the floor out of his mind?”
“She told us that soon everything that was Da’s would be hers,” Bella said. “When we met her in the hall bringing Da bannocks.”
“Was this how ye found him?” Jasper repeated, locking eyes with Lorna.
“No.” She subtly tipped her head toward Bella.
Mrs. Thistlewick picked up on the unspoken message. “Mistress Bella, come with me. We shall see if Cook knows of a remedy.” She held out her hand. “Hurry, lass.”
Bella’s expression hardened. “No. I want to know how Mistress Lorna found my da.”
Lorna pulled in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Yer da would not wish ye to know, Bella. Someday. When ye are older and I have his permission, then I will tell ye. Not before. It would not honor him for me to do otherwise, ye ken?”
“Ye wouldna wish yer father dishonored?” Mrs. Thistlewick said. “Now would ye?”
The child’s mouth tightened into an angry line, but she agreed with a curt dip of her chin. “I never want my da dishonored.” She took the housekeeper’s hand but then paused and gazed at her father. “Dinna let him die,” she whispered to Lorna. “Please?”
Lorna blinked back tears and lifted her chin. “I will do everything in my power to keep him alive. I swear it.”
As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Jasper pinned her with a fierce glare. “How did ye find him?”
“Sprawled on the couch with his kilt shoved up around his waist as though he had just been ridden hard.”
“She means to make him think she carries his child,” Jasper said, then added a low-throated growl. “Crafty bitch. I wish I had never laid eyes on her in that pub.”
“In this condition, I doubt he could perform.” But then she remembered his semi-erection. As though he had just finished.
“I can tell by yer face his pestle looked as though he had just ground the corn.” Jasper shook his head. “Damn her straight to hell and back.”
“Even if she was able so to seduce him, that doesna mean she is pregnant.” Of course, if the woman kept track of her personal timeline, it could increase her odds. “No wonder she drugged him. I dinna think he would risk fathering a child with her until after they married.”
“He wouldna risk fathering a child with her at all,” Jasper said. “Planned on ousting her once her time ran out.” The war chief scrubbed a hand across his face. “And here I thought he had finally come to his senses.”
“If he made the mistake of telling her…” Lorna left the rest unsaid as Gunn came to life again, fighting as though beset upon by demons. “Hold his legs! I canna keep a hold on him if he starts bucking.”
Edmond sat on one of the chieftain’s legs, and Jasper held down the other. Gunn roared like a captured beast.
“How long will he be like this?” Edmond asked.
“Could be as long as three days,” Lorna said, straining to hold him tight without cutting off his air.
“Be thankful,” Jasper growled as he repositioned and pinned down Gunn’s lower half. “It means yer chieftain fights to live.”
Chapter Eleven
It took Gunna moment to realize that he leaned back against a person rather than cushions or pillows. Not exactly in their lap, because they had their legs wrapped around him and their feet resting on top of his thighs. Their slow, steady breathing somehow eased him, made him feel warm and comforted.
He blinked hard several times to force his eyes to focus. Every blink made the sharp pain in his head pound harder. No light beat back the darkness of the room except the glow from the hearth. Praise God for that. Even the gentle brightness of the shimmering coals split his skull with the force of a war hammer. Arms and legs heavy as lead, he lay there with his eyes squeezed shut, trying to remember where the hell he was, how he got here, and what woman slept with their arms and legs around him.
He worked his jaws, raking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. A strange numbness afflicted it, as though he had drunk something scalding hot. His gut clenched and rolled, warning all was not well in his belly either. Perhaps if he lay still, the beast clawing at his innards would calm.
