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But as she stood beside the warped chest where he’d set the cups of water that Miller had drawn, a peculiar feeling came over him. Cold, like dread. He looked back to his hostage, sensing danger somehow. Yet John Miller made no move. He merely watched Violet as she raised one of the vessels to her lips.
Taking a harmless drink?
Visions of his brother’s pale corpse assailed him.
“No!” Finn launched himself at her, swiping her arm. The cup flew. Water spilled. “It’s tainted.”
Stunned, she stared at him with wide eyes. John Miller shoved past him to reach the door.
Finn didn’t hesitate. He threw his knife end over end, pinning Miller to the wall through the shoulder of his cloak. The man tugged against the fabric, but it held fast.
“What are you doing?” Violet cried, her cheeks pale. From worry?
Or from some foul brew? He didn’t know how he recognized it. An instinct. A result of being cynical and suspicious.
“The drink may contain poison.” He blotted her lips with his sleeve, drying them. “The water could be contaminated with something he added. My brother died by some kind of unnatural concoction and that must be how the other victim died.”
“Why?” Violet shook her head, brows furrowed. She turned to Miller, whose struggles had slowed, possibly because Finn lurked closer. “Why would you do that?”
“Your father banished my family when we could not afford to run the mill. He did not care that my father’s only son was not strong enough to make repairs.” Moving slowly, Miller removed a pouch from his belt and held it up for them to see a dirty bag full of dried herbs. “I was not strong enough to take revenge the way a knight would. But as I traveled the Highlands with my family in search of a new lord, I learned about the various properties of plants in the wild. Soon I had another idea for vengeance. One I’ve been perfecting ever since…”
His eyes drifted shut. Only then did Finn realize he must have nicked the man’s flesh. A small red stain appeared on his cloak. Violet clutched Finn’s arm and when he turned to look at her, she was frighteningly pale.
“You must find Morag.” Her eyelashes fluttered and she wavered on her feet.
Fear caused his stomach to sink like a stone. His gaze never strayed from her as the menace pinned to the wall gave an eerie cackle. All his focus remained on Violet.
“Did you drink some of that foul brew?” He thought he’d caught her in time. Memories of his brother’s quick decline gripped him.
What if she’d consumed some of Miller’s “perfected” poison?
“Maybe a bit,” she admitted softly, swaying into him as if she felt faint. “You recall the way to her cabin?”
She peered up at him with worried eyes.
Hauling her up into his arms, he hurried out into the night. John Miller was the least of his concerns.
“We’re almost there,” he promised, tearing through the woods as if her life depended on it.
Chapter Six
There must have been magic in the herbs.
It was the first thought that crossed her mind when she awoke, clearheaded and pleasantly warm beneath a toasty nest of blankets in her chamber. A fire crackled nearby. Inna hummed a tune at the foot of the bed while the maid’s gray kitten attacked Violet’s toes through the woolen bedcover. Her hair was freshly washed, the scent of her soap a welcome fragrance. A whiff of floral herbs wafted from the hearth, a trick that told her Morag was near, caring for her.
But where was the one person she wanted to see most?
“Finn?” Her throat cracked on a dry note, making Inna jump, Morag hurry over.
And Finn Mac Néill rose like mountain from a chair beside the door.
She could not have held back the smile that came from deep within. Her brain told her that Inna and Morag clucked and chattered, asking questions about her health and her appetite. But she couldn’t seem to think about anything except the man who had saved her.
The man who had come to mean so much to her in such a short amount of time.
“Leave us.” Finn’s command was quickly obeyed, though Violet noticed he did not need to shout it the way her father would have.
The thought of her surly sire sent a prickle of worry down her spine.
“My da would not approve of us being alone… .”
Did she hear smothered feminine laughter as Inna and Morag departed the chamber? But that was not possible when all of Caladan feared the earl’s temper and dark moods.
“He is well accustomed to me being alone with you,” Finn assured her, taking a seat beside her on the bed.
