His Bonnie Bride Hannah Howell (e reader comics TXT) 📖

and felt guilty, both over the deception and the pleasure he felt at this proof of their caring. It was hard to conceal his rage when his eyes settled on his wife, but he managed, knowing one error would ruin all they had accomplished so far.

"I ken ye are aware o' how I wish to disperse my holdings, but I wanted to say it one more time afore witnesses so there be no doubt," he said in an appropriately failing voice as Storm moved to stand by him. " 'Tis no surprise that I leave Tavis Caraidland and all that goes with it and the house in Edinburgh, plus half my wealth. Sholto and Iain, ye can sort out the rest as ye will. In my writing table ye will find a paper with instructions concerning a few others, such as Malcolm here."

"What of me, darling?" Janet asked when Colin closed his eyes and said no more.

"Och, weel, I leave ye what ye brought to Caraidland and no more." He grasped Storm's hand. "See that the lass here gets back to her folk," he gasped before passing away with a trembling sigh.

Thinking that he had done that very well, Storm crossed his arms over his chest. "He's dead."

She stood by the bed to block any chance of the unknowing seeing anything suspicious. With a sardonic look she watched Janet burst into tears and fling herself into Tavis's arms. Storm felt badly for the brothers, who plainly struggled to remain manly in their grief. Their unaffected sorrow erased the tiny, lingering suspicions she had so unwillingly harbored that one of them was in league with Janet.

With a harsh oath, Tavis flung Janet away from him. "Cease that false noise, woman. An I could do so, ye'd be on your way within the hour, but 'tis best an it waits until after the burial."

"Send me away?" Janet gasped. "How can ye be so heartless? I have nowhere to go, Tavis."

"Ye'll find a hole quick enough," he hissed, "so stop your weeping, or do ye weep for the gold me father didnae leave ye? 'Tis nay grief that sets ye to wailing. I ken that weel, as does many another. I'd nay be surprised to find ye had a hand in his death, ye had so little feeling for the man ye wed."

"Perfect," thought Storm, her eyes moving just quickly enough to catch the flash of panic in Janet's eyes.

Janet gasped, a hand dramatically fluttering to her throat. "I would ne'er do such a thing."

"Aye?" growled Malcolm, stepping in precisely on cue, "if ye be sae free o' guilt, go near the body, m'lady."

"What would that prove?" Janet asked haughtily, but her gaze darted nervously toward Colin.

" 'Tis said that an a murderer nears his victim's body, the body will give a sign such as a movement or blood flowing anew from an old or new wound. Care to try it, m'lady?" Storm asked.

"Peasant superstition," she scoffed, staying right where she was.

"Then it cannae hurt ye, can it?" Malcolm goaded. "Then again, ye may be guilty."

Glaring at her tormentor, Janet strode to Colin's bed. Storm and Malcolm feigned shock almost as well as the others did when blood began to seep from the old wound in Colin's shoulder, soaking the front of his night shirt. It was plain to see that the three brothers wanted to deny what their eyes saw. In the enlightened year of 1362 such magic was scorned, or so it was hoped. Janet blanched and backed away from the bed, shaking her head.

"It seems ye did have a hand in his death," drawled Storm her eyes settling accusingly on Janet, hoping that the woman would condemn herself with her own words.

Janet looked around at the accusing faces turned her way. Her guilt proved to be her own worst enemy. She turned to Tavis, her hands held out beseechingly. All along she had held to the delusion that only Colin kept Tavis from her side. Now she felt sure that his passion for her would be freed and therefore he would help her. Instead, she met nothing but contempt and suspicion, even open dislike.

"How can ye look at me so, Tavis? Can ye not see? Now we can be together."

Tavis's revulsion at that idea was plain to read upon his face. "I ne'er wanted to be with ye."

"That's not true!" She clutched at the front of his tunic. "How can ye forget the night we made love? All the words o' sweet love ye spoke to me? Now we need not keep it a secret."

"There's naught to be kept a secret," he snarled as he shoved her away. "Ye crawled into my bed and I was too fou to boot ye out. We did naught. I ken that now. Ye played me for a fool, bitch, but dinnae delude yourself as ye tried to delude me. I dinnae want ye. I ne'er have."

"But I did it all for ye. I kenned we couldnae be together whilst he lived," she screamed, then gasped in horror when she realized what she had said. "Nay."

"It was in the potion, was it not?" Storm asked quietly.

"Nay! I did naught! Ye have got me all confused. I ken not what I be saying."

"Ye ken right enough," came a voice from the bed, and Colin sat up to glare at his wife, shocking his sons into open-mouthed speechlessness and sending Janet one step closer to madness.

"Nay, nay, ye are dead. No man could have survived that last dose I gave ye," Janet moaned as she stepped further away from the bed, her eyes wide with horror. "Ye be haunting me, that be all."

"He is not dead, Janet. He did not drink your last potion, the one that was so strong."

"Ye have tricked me," she hissed, her wild eyes fixing upon Storm. "Ye bitch! Sassanach whore!"

Before anyone could react, Janet pulled a dagger from a concealed pocket in her skirts. She lunged at an unsuspecting Storm, who