Authors: Stephanie Sterling
..ooOOoo..
Isla slept soundly that night, at least she did until the very early hours of the morning, when her rumbling stomach woke her up. She tried to ignore her hunger, wriggling closer to husband as she tried to snuggle back down to sleep. However, she had missed supper the night before, and now she was absolutely starving.
Isla disentangled herself from her husband’s body, being very careful not to disturb him. If she could just creep down to the kitchens, she was sure that no one would mind if she helped herself to a hunk of bread or a slice of cheese to tide her over until morning. She didn’t want to cause a fuss and wake any of the servants.
So, Isla dressed quickly, grabbed a candle and slipped out from the room. The corridors were deserted, just as Isla had expected, and hoped. She didn’t fancy meeting anyone lurking around the castle at such an hour. She didn’t imagine that they could be up to any good.
Isla continued on her way to the pantry. She found some bread and cheese, and half a cold chicken. Isla took as much as she could carry. She piled a plate, intending to carry her spoils back up to her bedroom, but stopped when she heard footsteps.
She wasn’t sure what caused her to do it, she wasn’t doing anything wrong after all, but Isla quickly snuffed her candle, grabbed her plate and hid herself inside a cupboard.
The footsteps drew nearer. They were not the light tread of a maid send to fetch something for her master or mistress, but the heavy tread of a man. Isla shrank back against the shelves, as the sound grew louder. She couldn’t see out into the pantry, but that seemed to be where the man was now.
Isla’s heart was beating so loudly she feared it might give her away. She listened as he shuffled around, praying that he wouldn’t come to the cupboard. She gasped when she heard the man curse in a terrifyingly familiar voice.
It was Tavish!
She was certain that he must have heard her. Isla clapped a hand over her mouth and felt an icy trickle of fear run down her spine. She held her breath, not even daring to breath, as Tavish went very quiet on the other side of the door. Isla could just picture him, bending low to look under the table, looking behind the large kitchen door, drawing ever closer to her hiding place.
Isla was shaking, almost certain that Tavish was so close on the other side of the thin cupboard door that she could smell the reek of alcohol on his breath, and then she heard the sound of scurrying. Something was overturned and Tavish began cursing again.
“A rat! A damn filthy rat! Stinking MacRaes!” Tavish continued muttering darkly, but Isla hardly heard the rest of what he said. She sagged with relief and just prayed that Tavish would leave soon!
He didn’t. He lingered for what felt like hours. Isla’s muscles began to cramp in protest. She wished that Roan would come and find her, she didn’t care if he was angry; she was still simply terrified of being discovered by Tavish.
And what was Tavish doing down in the kitchens anyway? Isla was convinced that whatever it was, it couldn’t be anything innocent. She wished that she’d hidden somewhere where she could see what he was up to.
Eventually, just as a bell tolled four, Tavish finished whatever it was he had been doing and left the pantry and castle kitchens. Isla slumped in relief, but waited several long minutes before creeping slowly from her hiding place. She tiptoed out of the kitchen, half-expecting large, cruel hands to grab her at any moment.
When nothing happened, Isla began to move more quickly, so that by the time she reached the chambers she shared with her husband she was running at a full sprint.
Roan jerked awake at the sound of his wife barreling through the door. He grunted something sleepily and puzzled that she couldn’t understand, then yawned, and murmured: “hungry?”
Isla blinked, she hadn’t even realized that she was still carrying the plate of food in one hand, and her extinguished candle in the other.
“Roan, I’ve just been down to the kitchens!” she blurted, putting the plate and candlestick down impatiently.
“So I can I see,” Roan yawned again, grinning slightly.
“Nae, nae, you dinna!” she said, panicked. “Tavish was there!” she cried.
“What?” he roared, leaping out of bed. It Roan had been half-asleep before then he was wide awake now. “What did he do to ye?” he demanded, looking stricken.
“Naught -”
“
Isla!
”
“I hid in a cupboard,” she confessed, feeling a little embarrassed. The way Roan’s whole body instantly sagged was touching. He dragged her into his arms and crushed her against his body.
“Thank God,” he groaned, and then pulled back slightly. “What the hell were ye doing alone down in the kitchens at this time of night anyway?!” he bellowed.
“I was hungry,” Isla reminded him, and then continued quickly, before Roan could shout again: “The point is, what was
Tavish
doing down there?”
Roan frowned. “The same as ye I would imagine. Finding himself a midnight snack?” he shrugged, and then grimaced. “Probably after despoiling a maid or two on his way - damn him! I’ll -”
“Nae!” Isla interrupted urgently. “He was up to something, Roan!” she pressed desperately, but to her dismay her husband didn’t look entirely convinced.
“Up to what?” he asked. “What did ye see him do?” he demanded.
“Well, I dinna exactly
see
him do anything,” Isla confessed reluctantly, hating the way that Roan raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘I told you so’. “But I ken he was up to nae good!”
“Isla -” Roan sighed.
“Roan ye ken what kind of a man Tavish is,” Isla croaked. “Ye ken what he - what he tried to do to me,” she stammered tearfully. She couldn’t believe that he wasn’t taking her concerns seriously! “Please,” she whispered, as she was bundled up tight against Roan’s chest. “Ye have to believe me, ye have to do something.”
“Do what, lass?” Roan sighed heavily. “I ken that Tavish scares ye. It damn well terrifies me to think that ye were down there with him alone!” He couldn’t stop himself from cursing. “But -” Roan forced himself to take a deep calming breath. “I canna very well throw him out of the castle for wandering down to the kitchens, lass. Nae matter how much I might like to.”
“But Roan -” Isla gasped.
“Ye dinna see
anything
?” he pressed.
His wife shook her head miserably. “We could go back down and have a look around?” she said hopefully.
“
I’ll
go down and look around,” Roan grunted, reaching for his discarded clothes.
“I’m going too!” Isla declared stubbornly. When her husband opened his mouth to argue she quickly pointed out that he wouldn’t know where to look without her.
“Fine,” Roan growled, pulling his shirt on over his head. “But nae more running off on yer own!”
..ooOOoo..
“Isla, there’s naught here,” Roan yawned. He was expecting the kitchens to be swarmed with servants at any moment, and he didn’t particularly want to be caught snooping through the crockery.
“There’s
something
here,” Isla argued stubbornly. “Something that we’re missing,” she insisted, but for the life of her she didn’t know what. There was very little in the pantry after all: a few leftover scraps of food, some salt and spices used for seasoning, and various pots and pans.
“Can we
please
go back to bed?” Roan yawned wearily.
“Nae, I -”
“We’re going back to bed,” Roan grunted. He caught hold of his wife’s wrist, too tired to continue his attempts at diplomacy, and physically dragged her out of the kitchens.
“I ken he did something!” Isla snapped, and was still snapping when Roan pulled her back into their bedroom.
“I’ll speak to him in the morning,” Roan finally conceded, falling into bed without bothering to undress. He didn’t imagine “speaking” to MacEantach would be a very enlightening experience, but he was ready to say anything to get a moments peace so he could go back to sleep.
Roan wasn’t allowed to sleep for nearly long enough as far as he was concerned. A loud commotion woke him soon after breakfast that morning.
He wondered how long he could ignore the ruckus. The answer was apparently -
not long at all
, given the series of heavy booming knocks that sounded on his door.
Roan growled his frustration, and then bellowed for the knocker to enter. Isla was sitting beside him, the sheets held up under her chin, her eyes wide and worried. The MacRae’s captain burst into the room. He looked pale and extremely anxious.
“What’s happened?” Roan asked instantly, quickly getting out of bed as he spoke.
“Sir, half the castle has taken ill. We think twas from the food they ate this morning.”
“The food?” Roan echoed. He heard Isla gasp sharply behind him, as he quickly began to dress.
“Aye, sir,” the Captain nodded gravely. He hesitated for a moment, but then plunged on. “Sir, Laird MacRae has taken
very
ill.”
“Graem?” Roan choked, and then he cursed viciously under his breath. He pulled on his clothes and made towards the door, but his captain looked like he still had something on his mind. “What is it, Ross?” he asked slowly, instinctively knowing he was going to hate to the answer.
“Sir, we’ve detained the culprit responsible for this cowardly act,” the captain revealed slowly. Roan couldn’t ignore the way Ross’s eyes travelled darkly towards the bed where Isla was still sitting.
“A Cameron? One of our guests?” he sighed heavily, already knowing what the answer would be. He waited to hear the name confirmed.
“Aye, sir,” Ross nodded grimly. “Ian Cameron.”
“What?” Roan breathed in disbelief.
“Nae!” Isla cried from behind him. Roan shot his wife a look, which clearly said, no matter what she might be feeling that she was to be
silent
.
“Yer sure?” he murmured thoughtfully.
Ross looked affronted. “We found several suspicious bottles in his room, sir,” he informed the tanist coldly. “One has been confirmed to contain hemlock, by the doctor.”
Roan swore again. “And Ian Cameron’s confessed?”
“Of
course
nae,” the captain frowned.
“He dinna! He would nae! Roan ye ken that Ta-”
“Where is he being held?” Roan demanded of Ross, interrupting his wife as though he couldn’t hear her.
“In the dungeons, naturally,” Ross wrinkled his nose in distaste.
Roan was caught between two opposing desires. He wanted to go and see his brother-in-law, question him, find out what he could while things were fresh, but he also wanted to go and see Graem. The man had been like a second father to him, if he was dying, then Roan wanted to be there.
“Isla, call yer maid and get dressed,” he said, surprised by how calm his voice sounded. “We’re going to see the Laird.”
“Sir, do ye think -” Ross began doubtfully, but was silenced by one look from his tanist.
“Where are the other two Camerons?” he asked gruffly.
“They’ve expressed a desire to leave, sir. They want to return to Castle Cameron.”
“But they have nae?” Roan barked, suddenly fearing that Tavish had slipped through his fingers.