“Aye . . .”
She crossed to the cup and peered into it. Finding it empty, she smiled. “Good.” She backed up, returning to his bedchamber. “Let’s go.”
He followed her warily, waiting for her to make some misstep so he could disarm her. The dag was primed and ready, and her finger rested on the trigger.
She jerked the barrel toward the bed. “Lie down.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You will.”
He didn’t like the sound of that. He crossed to the bed and sat on it. She stood a few feet from him, dag leveled at his face.
“Why did you say Malcolm before?”
“I thought I saw him.”
The skin around her painted mouth tightened. “He’s dead.”
“I know. Did you poison him, Cat?”
She looked him over consideringly, then nodded. “He was sick. He was suffering. I ended the suffering.”
Nicholas couldn’t speak. Grief choked him, made it difficult to breathe. He heaved a painful breath.Oh God, Oh God.She’d killed her own son.Hisson. He might have saved Malcolm if only he’d seen. He was so God damned blind.
“There, there, Nicholas,” she murmured, her voice soft and soothing. “It will all be over soon.” She thought she’d poisoned him and that his suffering had begun.
He closed his eyes. The tears of anguish and fury squeezed out anyway. He leaned over, his hand over his gut as if in pain, and gasped, “Is that what you did for your servants? Ended their suffering.”
She gripped the dag hilt harder. “Aye. We’re all suffering in these bodies. I’m helping.”
“And who’s helping you?”
She didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on his face, evaluating. He surmised she’d used this poison many times and knew the signs. He must be clever. He groaned loudly and tipped over on the bed, pressing his face into the velvet covers.
“Aye, that’s it. Lay down, Nicholas. It will all be over soon.”
When he chanced another look, her expression was soft. She drew out a long, sinuous sigh, the tension in her body releasing. She derived great pleasure from this. It was evident in every line of her body, in the darkening of her eyes and the curving of her lips.
“You came back just to poison me?”
“Aye. I’ve been all over the Continent, but I couldn’t forget you.”
“How many husbands have you buried?”
“Five—counting the first. But not you. You’re the one that got away.” She moved closer to the bed.
Nicholas rolled around a bit, holding his stomach and groaning dramatically.
“I know it hurts,” she soothed, “but it will be over soon, I promise, and I’ll be with you, at the end.”
“Some one’s been giving you aid,” Nicholas said through clenched teeth.
“I’ve thought about you so much,” she said as if she hadn’t heard him, her voice soft and urgent. “Nearly every day. It’s never been the same.”
She was insane. He’d suspected that before she faked her death, but she was completely mad now. Sheenjoyedmurder. It excited her.
“What do you want?” he ground out.
