Isabail caught a glimpse of the bloodied clothing amid the men’s legs. None of the MacCurran men were tending to the fellow; they were simply letting him bleed all over the ground. Highland brutes. She elbowed her way between them. “If he’s bleeding, his wounds need immediate attention. Step aside.”
The men parted, letting her through.
Isabail avoided the MacCurran’s gaze as she gained the center of the group. What do you say to a man with whom you had shared a bed but no wedding vows? The flaxen-haired man on the ground was a more suitable target for her attentions—his back, arm, and hip were shredded by something with vicious teeth. Isabail crouched and rolled the poor fellow over.
A gasp escaped her lips. “Daniel!”
His eyes flickered open, his expression dazed. “Lady Isabail?”
“Dear Lord, Daniel. What befell you?”
A large hand grasped her arm and hauled her upright. “You know this man?”
Isabail faced MacCurran, a flush rising in her cheeks. A vision of lying next to him clad only in her shift wreaked havoc with her thoughts. “Aye. Daniel de Lourdes. He was my brother’s most valued personal attendant.”
MacCurran frowned heavily. “So he was traveling with you to Edinburgh?”
“Make way, please,” said a female voice.
Isabail was jostled as the men around her moved aside. She barely noticed. Her gaze was held by the MacCurran’s. His eyes were a brilliant blue—a shade not unlike a robin’s egg—and she wondered why she hadn’t noticed before.
“Let’s have a look at you, then,” the female voice added.
“Nay!” Daniel protested weakly. “Do not touch me.”
Isabail broke off her connection with the MacCurran and glanced down. A woman with dark red hair was leaning over Daniel—red hair that Isabail immediately recognized. Reacting instinctively, she shoved the woman aside. “Get away from him, murderess!”
The woman landed on her rump on the ground, her long braid whipping into the air and her satchel spilling its contents.
Isabail kicked the pots and herbs, scattering them. “You’ll not touch him with your evil witchery!”
MacCurran’s hand clamped down on her arm again. “Enough.”
She whirled on him. “This woman killed my brother. Fed him poison and watched him die before her eyes. If you are as innocent as you claim, how is it she is welcome in your camp?”
Nausea rolled in Isabail’s belly, and her hand went to her stomach. She’d actually begun to believe MacCurran’s protestations of innocence. Had actually begun to consider the existence of his man in a black cloak. But he was harboring the woman who had been tried and found guilty of John’s murder. A woman found in possession of numerous poisons.
“The bailie declared her guilty,” she cried hoarsely. “She was sentenced to death by pit and would be dead now if you hadn’t freed her.”
“I did not poison John Grant,” Ana Bisset said quietly.
Isabail spun around. “Liar. You were the only one to give him food or drink that night. You gave him a tisane to rid him of head pain.”
“Willow bark tea does not kill a man,” Ana said.
“Unless it is laced with dwale.”
The healer’s face twisted. “I am sworn to heal. There was no poison in the tea.”
“And yet by the next morning, he was bedridden and delirious,” Isabail accused. She had trusted this woman. Allowed her into their home, accepted her balms and unguents with innocent faith. Only to be proven a poor judge of character. “What justice is there in the world when my brother—as good a man as ever there was—lies cold in a grave while you—his murderess—walks freely about?”
Ana Bisset said nothing.
Isabail turned back to MacCurran, her heart a leaden lump in her chest. “I will see to Daniel’s care myself. Please arrange to have him moved to my hut and provide me with water and bandages.” A shudder ran through her. “I want fresh strips of linen. Nothing touched by this witch.”
MacCurran’s expression was unreadable. He returned her stare for a long moment—long enough to remind her that she had no authority in his domain. Then he nodded to Beathag. “Fetch her what she needs.” To his warriors, he simply waved a hand toward her roundhouse.
As Isabail made to follow the men carrying Daniel, MacCurran stepped into her path. “Do what you must. I’ll be along presently to question him.”
