She went to the window and gazed with unseeing eyes down into the courtyard. Gradually she became aware of him standing in the bailey. He was soaked to the bone. She was immersed in guilt. What sort of a woman was she, for God’s sake? She would go down and order Mr. Burque to make him something special for supper—something spicy to ward off the chill. Then she’d lay out dry clothes for him and have the fire lit in his chamber.
Her hands went to her belly protectively. She carried the Douglas heir. It was his God-given right to inherit the title, the castles, the wealth that was Douglas. How could she throw it all away by refusing to wed her child’s rightful father? Was she that selfish, that self-absorbed, that self-centered? Life wasn’t a game. Life was infinitely precious!
Tina laid out Ram’s black doublet with the crimson Bleeding Heart of Douglas embroidered upon it. She held it to her lips for a moment and brushed a teardrop from her cheek. Suddenly her ears picked up the faint sound of someone raving and cursing. She sighed. It sounded like Mad Malcolm. She would go and visit him; perhaps if she listened to his ramblings it would quieten him.
As she climbed to the tower room, she couldn’t believe the way he was carrying on. Someone must have restocked his chamber with drink.
“Och, lassie, help me!” he cried, his eyes rolling in his head. “He’s goin’ tae kill me!” Malcolm was reeling drunk, and the fumes coming from the bed were overpowering as he thrashed about.
“Hush, Malcolm. Who is going to kill you?”
“Alex!”
“No, Malcolm. Someone told you Alex haunts the castle, but there are no such things as ghosts.”
“Nay, not Alex, the other. He put yon pillow ower ma face!”
“Hush, Malcolm. He’s gone now. You’re perfectly safe.”
“Christ, I’m no’ safe—yer no’ safe!” he howled. “He saw ma pages! He knows I’m goin’ tae expose his evil!”
“Damn it, Malcolm—who brought you all this whisky and wine?” Tina was angry This would never have happened if Ram Douglas had not overruled her orders. She went to the bed and straightened the covers. As Malcolm clutched her arm, she reassured him. “He’s gone now. I’ll get Jenna to sit with you.” She made a moue of distaste at the array of intoxicating drinks within his reach. Two jugs of whisky lay empty, but there were still half a dozen bottles and decanters of wine.
Tina explained matters to Jenna. “Don’t let him have anything more to drink. He’ll have to sleep it off.”
Malcolm was cursing a blue streak now, but his voice had lowered somewhat. Tina picked up two decanters as she left the room. As she descended the stairs, she saw that Ramsay was in his chamber. Without hesitation she swept in and deposited the decanters of wine on his table. “Malcolm is raving. He’s almost out of control with drink.” She saw that he had changed into the dry clothes she had laid out for him. The firelight showed her that his black, curling hair was still wet.
He took a step toward her. “Tina, I want a word with ye.” His swarthy face was like rough-hewn granite. The light from the fire cast his gigantic shadow up the wall and the foreboding feeling she’d had all day gripped her so fiercely, she felt faint.
Fear that Ram had seen the naked portrait swept over her, and she put her hand out to the back of a chair to steady herself.
Ram’s eyes narrowed. Quickly, he poured a glass of wine and closed the distance between them. “Drink this,” he commanded.
As she took the glass from his hand, her fingers brushed his, and a small shudder went through her. She lifted it to her lips and drained it. The moment she swallowed, she knew! He had just poisoned her!
Chapter 29
The glass fell and shattered. “No!” Tina cried, clutching her throat, her eyes filled with terror. Her throat burned and closed in a spasm. The poison peeled the skin from the back of her tongue and down her throat. Her mouth was filled with a bitter, acrid taste. The moment the wine touched her stomach, she doubled over, clutching her belly as pain tore through her midsection.
Ramsay knew immediately that she had just swallowed poison. Her cries were so anguished, they pierced his heart. He swept her up into his arms and began to run. “Hold on, hold on, no matter what, Tina!” he commanded. She was screaming and writhing with pain as Ramsay sped down the winding stone staircase to the kitchens. His own gut was knotted with fear. He had no idea what to do for her, but instinctively he knew that immediate action of some sort was imperative.
“Burque, Burque, where the hellfire are ye, man? Tina’s been poisoned, help me!”
Mr. Burque’s face registered shock, anguish, and fear. He had no clear idea what to do for her, yet because she was dear to him as a daughter, he knew he must do something. He had comforted her all her young life with bonbons and chocolate, had cured her toothaches and soothed her childhood cuts and burns with things from his kitchen. He shrugged helplessly. “Cream?” he asked Ram. “It might coat her stomach. Stop some of the poison being absorbed into her system while we purge her.”
“Yes, cream,” Ram agreed decisively.
She was sobbing and screaming, yet it did not sound like his Tina. Her throat was so raw, the sounds she made were husky, hoarse. Mr. Burque held the cream to her lips while Ram held her. She pushed Mr. Burque’s hand away hysterically. To make her swallow would be torture. “No, no, no,” she cried hoarsely.
“Force it down her,” Ram ordered, and held her wrists in a vise grip. They got about a pint inside her before she began to retch. Now Ram held her tenderly, his hands feeling the convulsive spasms of her stomach as he bent her over his arm with her head down to aid her vomiting.
Tina retched, heaved, and spewed; retched, heaved, and spewed. She gasped and choked, retched and heaved, until Ram wanted to run mad from the kitchens. Inside he was in a total panic. She was going to die. She was going to die an agonizing death, and there was little or nothing he could do about it.
She was exhausted now, yet her eyes were liquid with fear and dread. He had little knowledge of poisons save that they resulted in death, but there was one thing he could give her of which he had an overabundance: He could give her his strength. “Yell be all right love. I’m here. Hang on to me.”
She clutched him weakly. “More cream,” he ordered Mr. Burque. The cream acted as a purge, and Mr. Burque was greatly relieved. He had been rapidly going over the noxious nostrums that would purge her, but now they would not be necessary. There was very little could be done to counteract poison other than try to purge it from the body.
The apparition that looked upon the scene was distraught. It was happening all over again. Lord Douglas had poisoned his wife! Damaris relived taking the goblet of wine her husband had placed in her hands. Watched herself as she lifted it to her lips and drained the cup. She could not go through it again. Damaris flew off searching out Alexander. She found him with Mad Malcolm and Colin. She flew at him with clenched fists and pounded them against his chest. “Tina is dying, damn you, Douglas! Damn you to everlasting hell!”
“Damaris, stop! It wasn’t me! I told ye years ago who did it, and now the insane swine has done it again!”
Damaris threw a look of horror at the crazy old man in the bed. “Alex, come. We have to do something.” The two spirits faded from the chamber and materialized in the kitchen. Alexander saw himself in Ram’s place, reassuring the small female in his arms; the look of intense desperation in his dark eyes was almost too much to bear.
Half a dozen scullery maids were running about, cleansing the stone flags of the kitchen floor that Tina continually befouled. Tina was deathly pale now, with a blue color about her mouth. Her stomach spasmed with cramps every other minute The excruciating pain had robbed her of all strength. She huddled in Ramsay’s arms with her hands clutching her belly.
The last bout of retching had alarmed him terribly because she had begun to vomit blood. She felt cold and clammy, and Ram knew her body was losing its warmth as well as its strength. With a firm resolve that he was far from feeling
, he said to Mr. Burque, “I’m taking her up tae bed. She needs something tae ease the pain.” He thought of something they used after a battle to deaden mortal wounds. “Make a brew from rue and watered wine. She cannot go on like this.”
Ram took the stairs two at a time up to his chamber. He laid her on his bed, then went to the fireplace to build up the fire. Her moans wrenched his heart. Quickly he went back to the bed. “Ram,” she whispered, “help me!”
He went on his knees and gathered her to him. “Hush, darling, I won’t let you die. Hold on to me I won’t leave ye for even a moment.”
Ada came in, her face white as death, her throat closed with fear. She brought bathing water and towels. “Quick, Ada—spread a towel on the floor.” Ram lifted Tina to the edge of the bed, his firm hands pressed into her stomach muscles to prevent them from rupturing while she retched. Ram’s eyes met Ada’s, and he shook his head in impotent frustration.
Tina drew her knees up to her chest and rolled across the bed, moaning like a wounded animal. Each moan ended in a whimper “Help me undress her, Ada. Get a loose bedgown. Her clothes are far too constricting.”
Tina was gray-lipped now, her body limp as a rag doll between the convulsive spasms of pain. Her breathing became labored, and she fought for breath. Ram broke out in a sweat of fear that any minute she would draw her last breath
Ada set the bowl of water upon the bed, but Ram said softly, “I’ll do it.” His tenderness toward her was heartbreaking to watch. He slipped on the loose bedgown She had stopped retching and vomiting, but he did not know if this was a good or bad sign. He did know one thing If she needed further purging, he didn’t have the heart for it.
She was crying softly, mewling like a baby or a young animal as she doubled her fists and thrust them into her belly. The eyes that met his were filled with anguish as the bone-softening fear of death overwhelmed her “I’m dying,” she whispered brokenly.
“No!” he said savagely “No, yer not dying! Is the pain bad?” he demanded. She nodded weakly “Good! So long as ye can feel the pain, ye are nowhere near death.” He had no idea if his words were true, but he said them with such strong conviction, she had no choice but to believe him
Mr Burque brought the rue Ram climbed onto the bed with her and lifted her so that her gray cheek rested against his shoulder “Little love, I want ye tae try and sip this Mr Burque made it especially for ye.” He held the decoction to her lips, and it broke his heart to see how trustingly she sipped from the cup. Dear God, the last thing she had taken from his hand was a cup of poison
Silently, he began to pray Oh Holy Saint Jude, apostle and martyr, great in virtue and rich in miracles—God in Heaven, she will need a miracle to survive this After the rue, it seemed to Ram that her writhing was less painful She cried and tossed and turned in agony, but she did not knot into the spasms that had made her scream.
The hours of the night dragged by slowly. Ram lay beside her, holding her when she would let him, encouraging her to hang on, to ride the waves of pain, but above all to stay with him Their fingers were entwined, and sometimes he thought that was the only reason she did not slip away— he had too firm a grip upon her
By morning, her fever started to rise Her face became a dull red, and she dozed spasmodically Ram tried to make her drink, but she vomited it back and looked at him with wild, accusing eyes. By midday, her fever raged so high, she began to shiver, then suddenly she went into a convulsion. “Quick, Ada, get the servants tae fill the bathtub. Tell them not tae heat the water, it just needs the chill off it.”
He lifted Tina from the bed and clasped her firmly against his body. He walked back and forth with her, talking to her all the while the servants filled the tub.
Damaris, clutching Folly in her arms, had hovered by the bed through the long night and day. When the servants departed, Ram knelt and removed her loose bedgown, and with gentle hands he lowered the convulsing girl into the cool water. Ada brought more towels and a fresh bedgown.
Ram sponged Tina over and over. First her shoulders, then her breasts and belly. Finally in desperation he let her hair fall back into the tub and let the water from the sponge trickle over her face and neck.
Gradually her eyes stopped rolling back in her head, and her arms and legs stilled. He kept on sponging her for another half hour. When he was finally convinced the convulsion was over and her body temperature was lower, he lifted her into his lap and patted her dry.
As he carried her back to the bed, her eyes flickered open, then her lashes seemed too heavy and her eyes closed. “I’m still here, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Don’t fret, yer not going tae die, yer going tae live!”
Finally Tina fell into a deep sleep. Ada said, “I’ll watch her while you go and eat and have a rest.” He shook his head quietly. “I couldn’t eat. Don’t let anyone in the castle drink any wine. It might all be poisoned. My dagger awaits whoever is responsible fer this,” he vowed.
While Tina slept, he never took his eyes from her. She made such a tiny mound in the great bed, it brought a lump to his throat. He’d never seen anyone suffer such misery so bravely in his life. Her breathing seemed so dangerously shallow, he took to watching a tiny pulse in her throat.
At last Tina awoke and tried to speak, but she choked on her words and violent pains bent her double once more. He held her until it passed, wondering what he could give her to alleviate the agony and give her a little strength. He brushed back the damp tendrils from her forehead and murmured words of love. Midnight approached again. She opened her eyes and managed to croak, “Ram, I feel so ill.”
“Yes, my darling, I know,” he said in a strong voice. “Ye will feel ill for days, but all the danger is past now.” He lied to give her strength to bear it; he lied to give himself strength to bear it.
Mr. Burque came every couple of hours with something different to try, but each time she sipped, violent cramps twisted her innards, telling them her body was not free of its toxin.
Ada came to him. “Colin has something he must tell you.” Ram nodded, and Ada admitted Colin into the chamber.
“It was Mad Malcolm who poisoned the wine. I found rat poison beside his bed. God knows how long he’s had it hidden.”
Ram’s mouth hardened. “Christ, I should have known he was dangerous. I can’t leave her, Colin. Have him watched until I can deal with the mad bastard.”
“He’s dead,” said Colin. “I found him an hour since.”
Ram bit his lip. “Thank ye, Colin. It’s my fault. I knew he was mad. I should have seen that he was locked up.”
“Don’t blame yerself, man. We are all of us tae blame.”
Mr. Burque arrived as Colin departed. This time he brought honey. “Honey has magical properties,” he told Ram. “It can heal a wound without a scar on the outside. Let’s see if it soothes the inside.”
Ram dipped the tiny spoon and held it to her lips. Tina licked it slowly, and miraculously it caused no pain to her throat when she swallowed it. The two men looked at each other with renewed hope. Mr. Burque warned, “Give it to her sparingly—too much will take her breath and choke her.” Ram nodded his understanding. For the next three hours he patiently fed her one tiny spoon of honey every ten minutes. Finally she fell into an exhausted sleep, still clinging to his hand.
He had a lot more hope now that she would survive this nightmare, but as the immediacy of the situation receded, his mind had time to wander. Would she ever believe that he had not poisoned her? This would put an end to the hand-fasting. She’d never marry him now, never stay at Castle Dangerous after this. He tried to push the unwelcome thoughts away. All that mattered was that she survived. He ran a hand through his hair. Perhaps it had been Mad Malcolm who had poisoned Damaris and not Alex after all. Malcolm had had the freedom of the castle in those days, before the drinking bouts had condemned him to his bed. Perhaps he had even pushed Alexander from the parapets. Ram shuddered. If Alex had watched helplessly as Damaris died of poison, no wonder his s
pirit still roamed about the castle. Alex would stay until he was avenged.
He knew that he himself would have avenged Tina’s suffering if it took all of eternity. Fate had stepped in and done the dirty work for him. Malcolm was dead. His mind roamed to the king. James must have suffered the tortures of Hell when his beloved Margaret Drummond was poisoned. Ram crossed himself and gave up thanks that Tina’s life had been spared. He closed his eyes and drifted to the edge of sleep.
Something awakened him. He sat up with a jolt. “Tina!” he cried, springing from the bed to catch her in his arms as she collapsed. Her nightrobe was covered with blood. His worst fears had come to pass: She was miscarrying their babe!
Ada and Nell hovered in the background for the next twenty-four hours, fetching fresh linen, changing the bed, bringing food to Lord Douglas, which they took away untouched.
Ramsay did all the nursing, all the bathing, all the comforting within his power. Most of the time they were hand-clasped, and gradually it seemed he infused his strength into her. Her lifeblood stopped draining away, her fever abated, and the pain finally stopped racking her body. Tina’s mental anguish, however, did not abate. When she saw the silvery trace of tears upon Ram’s cheeks, her heart constricted. This was her punishment for threatening to abort his child. He would never again ask her to wed him— where was the need? She could not bear to see accusation in his eyes, and she turned to face the wall.