Page 7 of Highlander’s Sweet Poison

Her horse stopped suddenly, thankfully not rearing, when another horse and a rider stepped onto her path. The large man hissed in the dark, and she didn’t need light to know that there was a glower on his face. Nor did she need it to identify him. He was so often in her dreams that she’d memorized the shape of him, the strong arms that had picked her up and carried her to safety, the muscled thighs that had kept her from flailing while he checked her wounds. Then, the fires around them had flickered over the gold strands in his hair, but now, he was shrouded by the night.

“What the bloody hell,” Graeme hissed, “do ye think ye are doing?”

4

When he’d taken his guards to the woods, Graeme had no idea that he’d be running into Jillian. Instead, he wanted to see how the growth was returning after the fire that she’d set. He hadn’t planned on confronting Jillian until that morning.

The woman never did what he expected. Furious, he sent his men ahead to bed down in the barracks for the night.

“Ye were going to run,” he stated.

She lifted her chin defiantly. “Aye.”

“Do ye have any idea what could have happened to ye? No, of course ye knew what could happen to ye.” Because it had already happened.

“Don’t,” she said coldly. “Don’t judge the choice that I made. What did ye expect me to do? We both know what will happen if I go back. There is no evidence that I killed my husband, but the council will condemn me anyway.”

“‘Tis not a trial, Jillian. ‘Tis just some questions to put the matter to rest.” His fist was clenched around the rein, but even he knew what might happen. “Where are Theo and Gemma?” He had sent them ahead to offer her sanctuary.

“I wilnae be the reason the peace breaks down between the clans. I just want to live a quiet life.” Blowing out her breath in frustration, she tugged back the hood of her cloak. “Let me leave, Graeme.”

Part of him wanted her to go, wanted her out of his life for good, but the reality wouldn’t allow for that to happen. “My men saw ye, Jillian. They would know that I let ye, and that would only lead to more people thinking ye are going around bewitching me.”

Visibly flinching at that, she shivered and tightened her cloak. “So what do ye suggest I do?”

All she had to do was accept the sanctuary status from Theo. He’d been depending on it. Now, it seemed, he would have to figure out some other way to keep the council from pinning the death of her husband on her.

There was a time when he also believed that claim.

“I will see ye safely home, Jillian,” he said tiredly. “And then ye will get some sleep.”

“That is not what I meant, and ye know it.”

“Aye, I know it, but I think ye know now that my hands are tied. You didnae claim sanctuary, so as yer laird, I have every right to bring ye home.”

Her whole body stilled, and fear wafted off her, but she nodded resolutely. “I dinnae need ye to escort me. I wilnae try and run again.”

He believed it, but that wasn’t the reason he wanted to see her home. No, he wanted to make certain that no harm came to her. Still, he didn’t say anything but urged his stallion to follow her as she began to return to her home.

This late, the small village was quiet. There was a time when this was MacSeaver land, a time when it was far more populated, but Graeme remembered it being quiet even then. His father had traveled there on occasion to bring news or oversee the small guard, and Graeme adored growing up on the shores. As a child, he was fascinated by the water, and as an older kid, he and the others would attempt to wade out and brave the strong undercurrents. Of course, there were boulder markers that all knew they should not pass, so no one was truly dumb enough to go too far.

Then Fletcher’s first wife had died, and the man seemingly changed overnight. The loch paid the price. With its rich soil, easy-to-navigate ports to the river, and populated game, it was ripe territory for anyone who invaded, and many clans did until Theo stepped in and stole the land right out from under them with the blessing of King Edward.

The whole affair left a bitter aftertaste in Graeme’s mouth. Once he was announced as the heir, his first plan was to fortify the loch, but he was too late. A few months ago, rather than seeking out a bride as Fletcher had wanted, he came here, hoping to find a reason to take the land back from Theo.

Unfortunately, the MacDougal laird was strong, smart, and determined. Nothing like his father, and the loch, Graeme was loathed to admit, was in good hands.

It was a wasted trip, and one complicated by the appearance of Jillian MacSeaver.

The woman haunted him in ways he couldn’t comprehend. Fulton MacSeaver was his cousin, one of his best friends, and the man grew addled when he’d married Jillian. A love-sotted fool obsessed with his new wife. He’d mentioned a few times that week that he feared his wife was growing unhappy, and then he was dead.

Graeme scoffed at the idea of witchcraft. The fae might still exist, but they certainly did not bestow magic on ordinary women.

He’d seen Jillian bleed. He knew that she was human.

Still, he couldn’t get it out of his head. Had Jillian bewitched his cousin? Had she poisoned him before that hunting trip? Fulton was the strongest hunter Graeme knew. There was no way he’d let a wild boar kill him.

The lass was guarded around him, but when she thought he wasn’t looking, she was a bleeding heart. She smiled openly with her friends and hugged on the children. She helped anyone who needed it, and he knew of her talent with herbs. He saw evidence of it when she’d tried to save Gemma and Elizabeth.