“My thanks as well, Roger…for this”—Julianna glanced around the hall that had erupted again into boisterous commotion as the meal was served—“and for staying close to my side. Everyone has been so kind—”
“Almost everyone,” he couldn’t help countering, casting a sideways look at William, who pointedly ignored him to skewer a slice of roasted boar from a platter. Cursing under his breath, he glanced back at Julianna. “Soon he will plague us no more, my love.”
Her tremulous smile told him that William’s response to Evander’s prayer had stung her, but the day had gone so smoothly that he wasn’t going to disrupt it now—even for his brother’s insolence. In front of everyone, he leaned toward her and gave her a lingering kiss, the great hall resounding with toasts to their happiness.
Julianna’s lips so soft and warm that Roger considered sweeping her up from her chair and carrying her upstairs to their bedchamber, but Elspeth’s delighted voice stayed him.
“Look, Breda! Papa is kissing our new mama!”
As more cheers and laughter greeted his daughter’s innocent outburst, Roger chuckled against Julianna’s mouth and she laughed, too, which gladdened him more than he could have imagined possible.
She had changed his life utterly…from darkness to light, the future filled with hope and promise—
“Laird, some wine for your lady?”
Roger nodded to the redheaded serving maid whom he’d made note of the other night, his own cup already brimming with ale, which the servants knew he preferred. He lifted Julianna’s empty cup to the pitcher, thinking that she might wish to bolster herself after the rigors of meeting so many people.
The maidservant filling the cup so full that red wine sloshed upon the table, the plump young woman casting him an apologetic look.
“It’s no matter,” Julianna said gently, reaching up to take the cup from Roger’s hand, though he shook his head and smiled at her.
“Och, lass, the wine will spill upon your gown. Let me drink some for you first—”
“No, Laird, no!”
The frantic outburst had come from Horas, the old healer, who had risen from his seat and hastened with a limp toward the head table.
“Dinna drink the wine, Laird, I beg you!”
Roger stared at the brimming cup only inches from his mouth, a terrible intuition in his gut as Horas stopped in front of him, the man’s wrinkled face ashen.
“It’s not the girl’s fault, she didna know. I gave her the pitcher tae carry tae your table…” Horas faltered as the serving maid looked in confusion from him to the vessel she still held, though her hand had begun to shake.
“Roger…?” came Julianna’s soft query as he set the cup near the rim of the table and gestured for the healer to move closer.
“Pick it up, man.” The harshness of Roger’s voice nothing to the fury near choking him, he rose so abruptly from his chair that it crashed to the floor, Breda starting to cry. “I said pick it up, damn you!”
With trembling fingers, the old man nodded and grasped the cup, wine sloshing onto his hand.
“Nowdrink.”
Horas’s slack-mouthed gasp was nothing to the shocked whispers that swept like wildfire through the great hall, though in the next instant the healer’s face twisted into a look of pure disdain as he fixed his watery eyes upon Julianna.
“The poison wasna meant for me, but forher—the English bitch you’ve taken tae wife! I’ve served your family loyally for years, aye, well before you were born, Laird, and yet within days she has usurped my rightful place!”
“P-poison?” echoed the serving maid, her round face flushed red. She dropped the pitcher to the floor as if burned and ran with a shriek toward the kitchen while men, women, and children toppled benches and chairs in their haste to scramble away from the spilled wine.
“Fetch some buckets of water tae thin the poison!” Roger roared to the wide-eyed servants before glancing at Julianna, who sat as if in a state of shock and stared silently at the wild commotion. “Dinna move, lass,” he bade her, not wanting her anywhere out of his sight, while to the two nursemaids, “Take my daughters upstairs, now!”
The women scrambled to oblige him, both Breda and Elspeth wailing at the top of their lungs. Roger looked over at William, who sat with a wry smile on his face, but he sobered at once to find Roger glaring at him.
“I had nothing tae do with that old fool’s plot, brother—och, you’d best call the guards after Horas.”
Indeed, the healer was attempting to flee the great hall with everyone else, but not getting far in the panicked crush. With a roar to his men, Roger launched himself over the table and caught up with Horas to grab him by the collar and haul him toward the grim-faced guards running to meet them.
“Take him tae the dungeon!”
“Aye, torture me, kill me even, but I would do it again tae rid you of that foreign witch!” cried out Horas, glaring over his shoulder at Roger as he was handed over to the guards, who held him fast. “She’s cast an evil spell upon you—aye, and sold your wee son’s soul tae Satan himself! How else do you think he survived the sickness that gripped him?”
