It would take too long to poison him without leaving a trace of her. The longer she was here with him, the less she wanted to poison him.
Restless, she rose from her bed and ventured out into the hall.
“Fergive me,” she cried softly to her family when she was alone. “I am failing ye. ’Tis not as easy to kill a man as I thought. He makes it so difficult. I dinna know if I can do it anymore. Fergive me.”
“Miss Woodburn,” Mr. Cameron’s voice interrupted her prayers. She spun around to look at him. “Is there anythin’ ye need before I leave this house fer the night?”
“Were ye following me, Mr. Cameron?”
He scoffed and Elspeth wished she could see him.
“Of course not. I was comin’ to yer room to check on ye.”
“Ye dinna have anything to help bring on sleep, do ye?”
“Nothin’ but the sound of my voice.”
They both laughed when she pushed him and he went back two steps.
“But I truly do know a remedy.”
“What is it?”
“A walk in the night air.”
She lifted her brows and cast him a curious look. She must confess; she liked the sound of it and so followed him when he moved away from her room.
“I confess,” he said without turning to look at her. “I didna think ye would agree to spend an extra moment with me. Ye have my thanks, lass.”
Now, who would offer gratitude for a simple thing like that? No one she knew, Elspeth thought, staring at the back of his head, the broad flare of his shoulders.
“Ye have my thanks as well.”
He turned to her as she caught up and walked beside him. “What fer?”
“Well, ye are helping me sleep easier, are ye not?”
He smiled—he smiled so easily. She wished she could do the same.
They stepped out together into the night lit by stars, the moon, and torchlight around both houses.
Elspeth breathed in the cool, misty air laced with scents of fir and the clean aroma of the Highlands after a rain. “Did it rain tonight?”
“Aye, a wee bit,” he told her.
“It smells good.” Some places did not always smell good. They smelled foreign to her or uncared for…like her. But the mountainy air around Logan Cameron’s house filled her with comfort and memories of things she’d once cherished and missed.
“Do ye like it here then?”
She should tell him it didn’t matter if she liked it or not. She couldn’t stay, but his deep voice both covered her like a blanket and reverberated through her, making her nerve endings tingle.
“Aye, I do.”
It spilled from her lips before she thought not to say it. But since she had already started… “I mean, aye, ’tis verra pleasant here.”
“Aye,” he said. “I agree.”
She laughed. “Who would have ever thought ye and I would agree about anything?”
