Callum sank to his knees. “It only takes a little. We must both retch. There is a small bottle of boiled water, and packages of powdered milk thistle, peppermint, and chamomile. A pinch of each. Hurry.”
While Alastair prepared the herbal tonic, Isla dashed to the corner of the room to fetch the copper chamber pot. Utterly indifferent if her awful gown became dirty, she knelt next to Callum. “Here. Retch.”
Terrible sounds filled the chamber. When Alastair joined them, all she could do was rub their backs and sponge their foreheads as both men attempted to purge the poisonous plant from their body before it took hold. Eventually they sat back, their faces ashen and sweat dripping from their temples.
“The tonic,” whispered Callum.
“Sip, don’t gulp. There you go,” said Isla, trying to remain calm as she held the bottle for them to drink from, but she shook with rage and fright. Poison. Her own mother had attempted to harm Callum so he would lose the swordfight he had trained so hard for, and Alastair as well so he could not fight in his laird’s place. She’d always known Anne Sutherland had a heart of stone, but such an unspeakable act could not be borne.
“Here now, lassie,” said Alastair gruffly, sliding a brawny arm around her shoulders. “Takes more than a little poison from your lady mother to halt us. Callum is the son of the most skilled healer in the Highlands, and she taught us well.”
Isla buried her face against his chest and sobbed. It felt wrong—she loathed crying and rarely did so—but she couldn’t stop the flow of angry tears. The MacDonald already had a height and weight advantage over Callum; if he won the fight because of damned poison…if the king tried to force her to wed that rodent…
She would slice out their innards. With a smile on her face.
“Dry your eyes, Isla,” rasped Callum, taking her hand. “It might not be so bad; God willing I have retched up the wine in time. Only because you ran here in that gown and gable hood and heeled shoes…I am most impressed.”
“Don’t jest,” she choked out. “This is unforgivable.”
“Aye, it is. But you did not poison the wine. You do not benefit from such an act. My ire is not directed at you.”
Isla shuddered, still unable to comprehend the evil that had been done in her name. “I could petition the king for more time. If he knew what had happened…”
Alastair rubbed her back, a remarkably soothing gesture. “He’d want proof. Your mother would only deny it. If Callum or I did become sick, they could claim bad meat or some such thing. Then others will say Callum is too scared to fight that festering turd.”
She sniffled. “The MacDonald really is a festering turd. I hate him.”
When Callum finished the bottle of herbed water, he lay down on a woven rug, one hand absently pressing his stomach. She moved so he could rest his head on her lap.
“Alastair, come join me,” mumbled Callum, closing his eyes, and allowing his hair to be stroked. “This is very pleasant.”
“Hush now,” she replied. “Let that root—”
“Milk thistle, peppermint, and chamomile. I’m certain if you teach her swordplay, Lady Maude would teach you herbs,” said Alastair idly.
Callum coughed. “The world is not ready for that much havoc.”
“Ha. Just wait until you have a daughter who wishes to learn from mother and grandmother,” she said in amusement.
His eyes flew open, and he struggled to sit up. “A daughter?”
Isla almost groaned. As usual, she spoke far too soon. “I know most men wish for sons, but daughters are special, too.”
“Aye, they are,” said Alastair as he took her hand and kissed it, making her gasp. “So you want children, Isla?”
“I never did before,” she said honestly. “But now I can see them in my mind. Little ones with gray eyes…and blue eyes. In a nursery with wooden swords and books and instruments, causing mischief aplenty for their mother and fathers. A true family. Not just blood, but choice.”
Alastair reached for Callum’s hand as well, before clasping them with his own. “A family of four thus far, for I know Lady Maude would welcome you into her heart, but with more to come. I believe we should pledge here this day to protect, cherish, and defend each other. In sad times and merry. What say you?”
“I do so pledge,” said Callum, holding their hands tightly. “This day and every day henceforth. An unbreakable trio, equal partners all.”
Isla gazed upon the only two men who had ever fully understood and accepted her, who had shown her such pleasure, the only two men she would ever love. Then she reached under her gown sleeve and withdrew three green hair ribbons she had secretly fastened about her wrist. “I do so pledge to protect, cherish, and defend, in sad times and merry. Now and forever. I hope you’ll accept these as a token of my favor. As in the days of old. I thought…I thought we could each wear one.”
“Aye,” said Alastair, swallowing visibly as he wound her ribbon around his wrist and did the same for Callum. “Now the world will see we are three.”
A knock came at the partially open chamber door. “Glennoe?” said a guard’s voice. “The king requests Lady Isla return to her chair, and that you prepare to fight.”
Isla kissed both Callum and Alastair’s hands. “Fight for us. Fight for our family.”
They stared at each other for an endless moment, their eyes conveying words their lips could not. Then Callum slowly rose to his feet. “I’m ready.”
When Isla returned to the Great Hall, she curtsied to the king and queen but ignored her mother completely.
“Daughter—”
“Do not speak,” she snarled. “You are the worst woman I’ve ever known. The worst mother. Fortunately, good shall triumph and your spite, your evil will not succeed. Now, you are dead to me. I renounce the Sutherlands and shall think of you no more.”
Anne gasped in outrage, but Isla turned her shoulder away. This woman she’d tried so hard to please, had begged for attention and love from, was now as insignificant as an ant.
Please God, let Callum win.
After Isla departed, Callum waited for a few minutes with Alastair in the chamber. Neither spoke, but their hands remained clasped, the narrow green ribbon binding them to Isla even when she wasn’t with them. Then, they disengaged and walked side by side back to the Great Hall.
Never had he felt such fury.
He’d endured many slights in his life, but tried to remain fair and just. To improve himself and the lives of the others around him. The only reason he’d entered this tourney was to save his clan from destruction; that he’d not only found the woman of his dreams, but also renewed and strengthened his love for Alastair, was a wonderful addition.
However, as so often happened in his life, there were those who conspired against him and wished him harm. And as always, curse him to purgatory, Red stood at the center.
In childhood, it had been Red who encouraged others to throw stones, to mock Callum’s English mother and humiliate him in front of his father. As a grown man, that spite and greed and selfishness had only become worse.
However, today’s act was beyond all.
He’d seen the look that Red and Lady Sutherland exchanged after he defeated Sir Leslie. One that spoke of an unholy alliance. But never had Callum thought it would be an attempted poisoning that would unleash this need for vengeance. In the Great Hall he had to be more than a man of words; for a chance at love and happiness he’d scarcely dared to hope for, was on offer. Three points stood between him and victory over his cousin. And nothing would stop him. Not insults, not threats, not trickery, and certainly not his roiling gut.