Highland Blessings (26 page)

When he closed the door and turned, she pointed to her dresser. “Brush.”

He looked at her blankly and then a slow smile crossed his face.

“Sunshine,” she whispered. She needed some light in this dreary chamber.

He grabbed her brush from the dresser and walked to the window, pulling back the drapes. The rising sun filtered through the darkness.

“Better,” she whispered.

Bryce crouched by the bed, gently pushing her forward as he brought her brush up to her head.

“Nay.” She shook her head, touched that he thought to brush her hair for her. She relaxed against the pillows and patted the bed beside her. He looked confused. She had to lick her lips. “I wish to brush yer hair.”

He started to protest, but with effort she reached for the brush; their fingers lightly caressed, and with reluctance, he relinquished it.

“I insist.” Akira patted the bed again. “Please, sit down and turn around. Ye look a mess.”

Reluctantly, he dropped on the bed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Ye wouldn’t be getting yer way so easily if ye hadn’t nearly died last night. As it is, I know ye don’t have the energy to argue and ye won’t let the matter drop until I do what ye wish.”

Akira brought the brush through his hair. “Then ’twould be best if ye let me have my way.”

“Any other woman would be wanting her own hair brushed, but not ye.” He glanced back at her, and she smiled up at him, pausing, “Just like ye’d rather be outside in the middle of a bunch of men working on construction.”

Akira sighed. “’Twasn’t the work that I longed to do as much as I wanted to be by yer side.” He tensed, and Akira decided to change the subject. “Yer hair has such fine texture.” She threaded her fingers through the thickness of it. “I wish I could have hair like yers. Although it isn’t as red as Gavin’s, I’ve always hated the color of my hair. Mayhap I could try and dye it.”

“I would not like it. I love ye the way ye are.”

Akira stilled, afraid to hope for what she thought she heard him say. “Ye love my hair or me?”

“Both.”

“Water!” she croaked, pointing to the table.

He moved quickly, tilting it to her lips. Bryce set it back down when she motioned that she had drunk enough. He gathered her long curls in both hands on each side of her shoulders. “I forbid ye to dye yer hair, and I forbid ye to die, period.”

Akira bit her lower lip, not knowing what to say. The moisture in his red eyes melted her heart at his sincerity, and she nearly fainted with relief. She couldn’t move for fear that she would wake to find this was but a glorious dream—that fate had cheated her again.

Bryce tilted her chin to face him. “Akira, are ye all right, lass? Should I have not told ye? I know ye may not love me; after all, I am a MacPhearson. I had a talk with the Lord last night, and I came to the conclusion that I can accept that ye don’t have the same feelings for me right now. Mayhap in time yer feelings will develop.”

A warm glow flowed through her, and the emptiness she had been feeling earlier seemed to dissipate.

“Oh, Bryce, how I’ve prayed ye would come to love me.” Happy tears surfaced. “It doesn’t matter that yer a MacPhearson. Do ye not remember what I said that day in my father’s hall after the brawl?” She sniffled, and wiped at her eyes, clearing her throat. “I meant what I said. I love the MacPhearsons as much as the MacKenzies. How could I despise ye for being a MacPhearson and then love Sim so much? ’Twouldn’t be right.”

Bryce chuckled as he gathered her in his arms and pulled her tight. “If that lad were a wee bit older, I might be jealous of all the attention ye dote on him.”

Her body went limp in his arms, and when he released her, she relaxed back against the pillows.

Akira reached for his cheek. He bent forward, grabbing her hand in his, and gently rested it against his unshaven jaw.

“I need to know what happened,” she said. “Why did I almost die last night?”

He turned his mouth into her palm and kissed her. How could she have once thought this gentle man a fierce barbarian? He pulled away, and his expression twisted into a frown at the reminder of last night’s events.

His hands clenched at his sides, and he strode to the window as if looking for a distraction. Bryce leaned down on his elbows, and she wanted nothing more than to go to him, but she feared she wouldn’t make it out of bed, much less across the chamber. She sensed his agitation, but couldn’t understand from where it came.

“Bryce, ye didn’t answer me.”

He turned from the window and inhaled deeply. He moved, kneeling by her bed, allowing her to reach for him.

She searched his gray eyes. “What’s bothering ye?”

“Mirana will be leaving immediately. I should have never hired her back, and I should have immediately dismissed her as ye asked me.”

“Mayhap I overreacted.”

Bryce vigorously shook his head. “Nay, lass. Ye were right. ’Twas Mirana that fed ye poisoned mushrooms. I don’t know if she only intended to make ye sick, or if she truly tried to murder ye.” A mixture of grief and anxiety filled his voice. His shoulders sagged beneath the heavy burden he bore. If Akira hadn’t known better, she would have thought she saw his bottom lip tremble. “I’m so sorry.”

“Are ye sure?”

Bryce nodded solemnly. “She confessed last night.”

Speechless, Akira looked away at nothing in particular. She knew the woman didn’t like her, but she hadn’t realized her hatred ran so deep.

Bryce stroked her hair. His gaze longingly swept her face and then lowered to her mouth. He leaned forward and his warm lips joined hers. Warmth spread throughout her body until she thought she could feel her toes tingle.

The door opened, and it took them a moment to realize they were not alone. Reluctantly, they pulled apart. Finella set a tray on the table by the bed and turned to Bryce.

“What are ye trying to do? The lass needs her strength,” she scolded, shaking her gray head in disapproval.

Bryce smiled as he rose. “Aye, and mayhap I was just testing her strength. Seems she’ll recover her health in no time at all.” He winked at Finella.

The top of Finella’s head barely reached Bryce’s chest, and she had to strain her neck to look up at him. Her eyes grew wide with disbelief with the realization that he had just winked at her.

“I apologize, m’lord, I was just concerned for the lass. I meant no disrepect.”

“Finella, think naught of it. ’Twould seem I canna afford to have anyone in my home who wouldn’t give Akira the same allegiance they would give to me.”

Finella’s stricken look suddenly changed to a radiant glow, and she squared her shoulders back.

“See that she eats and that she rests.” He gave the old woman’s shoulder a reassuring pat before heading toward the door. Bryce closed it softly behind him.

Outside in the hallway, Bryce paused to speak to Kian, who guarded Akira’s chamber. “I’ll send another guard to relieve ye.”

“How is she?”

“She’s a survivor. I didn’t wed a weak woman. Has anyone tried to see her?”

Kian nodded. “Aye, Sim has been by at least thrice this morn’. I can hardly understand all of his hand talk. He seemed to be verra concerned.”

“What of Mirana?”

“She’s still locked in a servant’s chamber. Balloch guarded her through the night.”

“I’ll see to her questioning.” Bryce turned and headed down the long hall. Sim ran into him as he descended the stairs. His hands were moving so fast Bryce could hardly understand him, but Bryce knew he wanted news of Akira’s condition. He communicated with Sim as best he could and granted him permission to go see her if she was still awake. Sim bounded up the stairs two at a time.

Bryce shook his head as he moved in the direction of the servant’s quarters. He dreaded having to deal with Mirana, but it had to be done. He only hoped he managed to be somewhat civil to her.

Bryce met Balloch outside Mirana’s door. “Have ye spoken to her?” He crossed his arms over his chest, stalling.

Balloch nodded. “Aye, but she refuses to speak. She’s a stubborn wench.”

Bryce sighed. “Well, I suppose I must speak to her.” He opened the door, scowling at the loud creak it made. The door closed behind him with a heavy thud.

Mirana sat in a corner and jolted at his entrance. Bryce forced down the urge to throttle her. He sighed, halting in the middle of the small chamber that now served as her cell. Crossing his arms over his chest, he gave her a pointed look.

“Ye tried to murder my wife, Mirana! I thought I could depend on ye. I thought ye were loyal to me.”

“I am loyal to ye. I’ve never wavered in my service to ye, Bryce MacPhearson.” She lifted her chin, her eyes as defiant and prideful as ever. “Ye should never have wed her. She doesn’t belong here.”

“Is it true ye tried to poison Akira with bad mushrooms?” He waited with his arms crossed and grew impatient when she didn’t answer. He leaned forward. “Is it true?”

“Aye.” She dropped her gaze. “The only reason I confessed is because I feared the worst.”

“What do ye mean?” Bryce demanded.

“I didn’t intend to murder her.” She cast a sideways glance at Bryce. “Did she survive the night?”

“Why did ye do it?” Bryce didn’t bother answering her question. He was the one who wanted answers right now.

“I already told ye. She’s a MacKenzie, and she doesn’t belong here.” Mirana’s voice slashed through the silent chamber, bitterness dripping from her tone like a flask with a hole in it.

Bryce clenched his jaw in frustration. “Mirana, it sounds to me as though ye tried to kill her. I want answers. I’ve never known ye to be a coward.” He shrugged. “But neither have I known ye to be a murderess.”

“I’m no coward! I own up to what I do. I already confessed. What more do ye want?”

“I want to know why ye did it. Did ye act alone?”

“My confession is enough.” She turned and gazed at the dark, empty wall.

“Is it necessary to have ye whipped? I must admit that such a punishment is quite a temptation after all I had to watch my wife suffer through last night.”

She shook her head, her long hair swinging from side to side. “Nay.” Mirana scratched at her neck. Bryce wondered if she imagined a thick rope around it. Thankful for the dark light in the room with the exception of the torch on the wall, Bryce watched Mirana’s bent head.

“She taunted me,” Mirana’s voice burst through the silence. “She said I’d better see that she liked her food or she would decide whether or not I stay.”

“That is hardly taunting ye. As the lady of the castle, it is her right to do as she pleases. That’s no just cause to try and murder her.”

“Ye only meant to use me,” she accused.

“I simply offered ye a job that I knew ye were more than capable of handling. Ye’ve served this household well over the years. Ye always knew that one day Evan and I would wed and a mistress would take over the management of the castle. I never encouraged ye to think otherwise. Ye’re responsible for yer own misguided thoughts.”

“Ye love me, not her.” Mirana swept toward him, reaching for his arm.

Bryce shoved her away. He wiped his hand over his face, praying for enough patience to deal with her.

“I think the best thing to do is let the people decide yer fate. I wash my hands of ye completely. And if they decide death is proper punishment for attempted murder, I’ll do naught to stop them.”

“Ye wouldn’t!” she spat at him, her hands fisted at her sides.

“I’ve made up my mind.” He kept his voice firm.

“They won’t take a MacPhearson life for a hated MacKenzie.” Her venom for his wife ran so deep and strong, he wondered how Akira managed to survive. He’d underestimated Mirana greatly.

“We shall see.” He stormed out of the tiny chamber before she could pique his anger further.

He locked the door with the key and handed it to Balloch. Mirana banged on the door from the other side, ranting and raving against him. He ignored her as he walked down the hall, his thoughts already drifting to his next step. He headed toward the kitchen where he’d confront the staff. If Mirana’s hatred ran so deep that she willingly betrayed him, could there be others who felt the same way? Bryce couldn’t take the chance. He needed to know where he and Akira stood with his clan.