Page 38 of Highlander’s Sweet Poison

Hissing, Alan turned and stalked away. They waited until he was gone before Jillian visibly relaxed, and Clyde put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Are ye all right?”

“If I didnae think that people were watching right now and would misconstrue things, I would embrace ye so tightly. Alan is an odious man, and I fear he has revenge in his heart when it comes to me.”

Clyde cocked his head thoughtfully. “I suspect that ye are right. When I passed by the wagon accident that supposedly involved a child, it was no more than a broken axle, and Nora was the reason that Tearloch couldnae leave. I suspect that Graeme wilnae be happy.”

“If I want to earn the clan’s trust, I cannae hide behind my husband,” Jillian said as she turned to him hesitantly. “Fulton was yer friend.”

“Aye, as were ye, and I know that ye are no witch. Graeme is also my friend, and I still dinnae believe that ye are a witch,” Clyde said gently. “Ye have nothing to fear from me, Jillian. Only friendship, if ye will have me.”

“I can certainly use a friend.” Her heart lightening just a bit, she started toward the keep, and Clyde walked alongside her. “Did ye marry while I was gone?”

“No, I fear only one has my heart, and she wilnae return it.”

There was a sense of longing in his voice, and she hurt for him. When Fulton was alive and they were all still friends, she remembered the way that Clyde had looked at Annella. She was wed to Alan then, but even though she smiled often, it was clear that she was not happy with her husband.

“Ye are a good man, Clyde. Ye deserve to be happy,” she told him. She also knew that quite a few women in the village would be happy to have Clyde as a husband, and yet, he still longed for someone he couldn’t have.

“As do ye,” he said, abruptly changing the subject. “Are ye truly happy having wed Graeme? I know ye feel that ye dinnae have a choice, but say the word, and Graeme will no doubt let ye live out yer life on Loch Moran.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I had hoped that would be the case, but alas, he feels as though he needs to keep an eye on me.”

“Does he now?” Clyde sounded amused. “Well, perhaps when the villagers’ fear subsides, he will feel differently.”

Jillian couldn’t tell him that she wasn’t sure she wanted a life away from her husband. To do so would admit that she had feelings for a man who claimed that he would never have feelings for her.

“I am certain ‘twas my arrow that brought down the last one,” Robbie boasted as they finished tying off the last of their haul for the day. It had been an excellent hunting trip despite the incoming chill. The more they could preserve now before the real cold hit, the better they would be.

“As if ye could hit a moving target,” Duff teased. “‘Twas John’s arrow that felled the beast.”

“And how many of those carcasses are yers?” Robbie shot back. “None? Am I getting that right?”

“‘Twas not my job to bring in the kill. But yer mistake explains yer poor hunting abilities today.”

The group laughed good-naturedly as Graeme grabbed the reins of the horses to start the trip back to the village. They were all pleased, which was why it was easy to tease today. They had enough for the village storehouses as well as the keep storehouse, so they would be well stocked for a while. The last of the harvest was a bountiful one too, so they were ready for the winter.

Stopping at the sound of a sword leaving its sheath, Graeme turned. Duff had lost his smile and was staring into the wood. Following his line of sight, the men stopped and armed themselves as well. Even the hunting dogs wrestling at their heels stopped and turned.

A rope swung in the small clearing, but the low bushes disguised whatever was swinging on the rope. Putting out his hand, Graeme moved closer and tried to peer through the brush. There was no movement other than the swing rope, so he slashed away at the brush, knowing his men had his back.

The sight behind them was an eerie one. A large child’s doll hung by its neck. Rocks were tied to its feet to give it enough weight to swing in the breeze, and beneath it was a circle of rocks.

“Witchcraft,” one of his men hissed, and Graeme stilled. Surrounding him, others crossed themselves and murmured prayers under their breath. Only Duff and Robbie looked at him.

Last night’s rain should have dampened the straw on the doll’s head, but it was dry and crisp, which meant that someone had left it as early as this morning. His thoughts immediately went to Jillian—not in suspicion, but rather, in defense.

Someone wanted him to find this.

Furiously, he sheathed his sword and moved forward, intending to unbind the doll when one of his dogs jumped in excitement and raced forward. As soon as it stepped in the damp leaves surrounding the stones, it yelped.

Graeme reached forward and caught the dog just as it started to fall and pulled it back to safety. “Dinnae move,” he ordered. “And hold the dogs.”

Moving cautiously, he cleared the leaves that circled the hanging doll, revealing a deep trench in the shape of a ring. He curled his lips in a snarl.

“Trap,” Duff muttered under his breath as he peered in the long drop. “If ye had fallen, ye would not have survived.”

“Does not mean it was meant for me.”

“Nay, but whoever left this here knew ye would go for the doll.” Duff spat. “Someone wants ye dead.”