"What do ye want?" Malcolm asked when he answered her knock at Colin's door.
Pushing him aside, stepping into the room and shutting the door, Storm said, "I know what ails him." She spotted a beaker of something on a bedside table and picked it up. "What is this concoction?"
" 'Tis a potion his lady brings him each night. He wasnae awake sae he hasnae drunk it yet."
"Thank God." She dipped her finger into the milky liquid and tasted it, surprised at the strength of the poison. "This one was meant to be the last he would ever take. Colin MacLagan has been slowly poisoned. Taste this." She nodded at the shocked look on Malcolm's thin face. "She plainly felt 'tis time to hurry things along."
"Lady Janet?" croaked Malcolm, and Storm nodded. "But why?"
"So she can marry my son Tavis," came a weak voice from the bed, causing both Storm and Malcolm to jump in surprise. "How'd ye guess, lass? Are ye sure?"
"Near positive, m'lord. I am sorry."
"Och, 'tis past pain I am. I learned quickly that I had erred in wedding Janet. Have ye proof 'tis her?"
"Not enough, but I do have a plan."
"Weel, let us have it then. I'd send the bitch off, but I'd sore hate to inflict her upon another."
"To start with, ye are going into a coma so we can have time to get the poison out of ye and put some strength back in."
Colin smiled. "Aye? And then what, lass?"
Storm smiled and then elaborated, earning a great deal of approbation for her cleverness. It was fully two hours before she returned to her own chambers. She opened the door to bright light and a furious Tavis.
Tavis had woken up to an empty bed and a massive attack of suspicion. Lighting nearly every candle in the room, he waited for Storm to return. The longer she took, the more sure he was that she had gone to another man. When she walked into the room he leapt from the bed and slammed her up against the door.
"Where the devil have ye been?"
"Visiting your father. I could not sleep, recalling how poorly he was, but there is naught I can do." She met his gaze without flinching, feeling a little hurt by his suspicions. Glancing at his naked body, she murmured, "Ye best get in bed or ye'll catch a chill."
Muttering in Gaelic, Tavis slid into bed, pulling her into a rough embrace when, after putting out all the lights save for one candle by the bed, she joined him beneath the covers. Snuffing that last candle, he decided not to mention the matter any more. He had made a big enough fool of himself. Tugging off her nightdress for the second time that night, he lost himself in her silken loveliness and forgot all about her lengthy absence from their bed. Storm did her best to ensure that for, if her plan were to work, even Tavis had to remain ignorant.
Chapter Nine
There was an air of grim anticipation hovering over Caraidland. For three days the laird had lain in a coma, hovering on the brink of death. Now, even the most optimistic could not ignore the fact that Colin MacLagan was dying. Only Malcolm and Storm were allowed into the laird's chambers. No one questioned Storm's place, for her healing abilities were already well respected. Storm suspected there would have been a large number of very angry people if they could have seen behind the thick door of Colin's chambers.
"I think 'tis time for ye to come out of your coma," Storm mused from where she sat next to a rapidly improving Colin. "I think ye are strong enough to perform your death scene now."
Colin laughed and toasted her with a mug of ale. "I look forward to it. Where shall it be, lass?"
"Since ye are well known to be a stubborn man, none will think it strange that ye demand them all in your room to hear your last will and testament. They could easily believe ye would come back from the brink of death just to do that."
"Aye, but dinnae I look a wee bit too healthy now? They may not believe I am dying."
"A little powder and paint will serve." She produced a small sack. "Malcolm had best rid the room of all the signs of your returning appetite. As soon as I have ye looking ready to gasp your last, we will fetch up your family. I shall be glad to see the last of their long faces."
"Are ye sure the bitch'll give herself away?" asked Malcolm as he tidied the room.
"Oh, aye. Tavis plans to send her on her way if Colin dies. I doubt the laird's death rattle will have ceased echoing in the room ere he tells her to pack her things and go. Then there is our little coup de grace."
"Ye are a devious lass. I ne'er would have thought it o' ye." Colin chuckled softly.
"Needs must when the devil drives," she mumbled as she put the finishing touches on Colin's death mask. "There. Ye look like ye have been buried near a week.
Mayhaps I overdid it. Not to worry. Ready for your performance, sir?" She grinned at Colin. "Shall I gather the audience?"
Tavis was the first to greet her when she entered the hall. Storm looked at his haggard face and felt guilty for causing him grief with her machinations. It was only a fleeting twinge, for she knew what she was doing was both necessary and right. The one who had tried to kill Colin had to be exposed. She delivered her prepared speech and led the solemn group to Colin's chambers.
Colin lay, slightly propped up by his pillows, the hollows of his face starkly accentuated by the light and Storm's skilled work with the paints and powders. He watched his sons' faces tighten as they fought to hide their grief
