"I ... er ..." Helen cleared her throat, then said a little louder, "I do too. I'll just go over here."
Seonaid watched her disappear into the woods on their right, then peered around slowly. Nothing moved. There was no sign of anyone about, but she felt sure someone was there. Or at least not far away. She rather hoped the latter was true. It would allow them the freedom to look for a few minutes at least. She moved into the brush straight ahead, scanning the ground as she walked.
Helen had been very particular with her descriptions of the plant in question. At least Seonaid had thought so at the time, but as she scoured the ground in search of the proper plant, she began to think they all looked terribly similar. Still, she did the best she could, grabbing up several handfuls of any plant resembling the one Helen had described. She had no idea how much of the plant the woman would need, but she suspected it would be a plentiful amount to manage to send the whole camp to sleep.
Helen and Aeldra were waiting at the river's edge when Seonaid returned. She glanced from them to the surrounding woods as she asked, "Did either of ye spot anyone?"
Seonaid frowned when both women shook their heads. She hadn't either and was beginning to think it might mean there hadn't been a guard posted after all. Propriety might have swayed the Sherwell from posting a guard to watch them bathe, she realized. It wasn't as if they would have been foolish enough to try to escape without the horses. Glancing back to Helen and Aeldra and the collection of plants they were sifting through, she decided to hope for the best. They had to sort the plants. They would have to hope either the guards weren't posted or they were so far away as to not be a concern. Joining them, she dumped the plants she had found in the pile and knelt to help with the chore.
"How did we do? Did we get what ye need?" she asked as Helen examined the offerings.
"I am not sure," the woman admitted. "I found two plants I think might be the one she used. And you have one of them here too." She lifted the plants in question, and Seonaid had to admit they were very similar. One was a slightly lighter color than the other and perhaps a little larger.
"Well, was it the lighter or the darker o' the two?" she asked.
The Englishwoman bit her lip as she considered. "I can not be sure. It was dark when she showed them to me. I--" She shook her head helplessly.
"Perhaps the bigger ones are only a different color because they are older," Aeldra suggested.
"That could be," Helen allowed doubtfully.
They were silent for a moment, considering the plants, then Seonaid shifted impatiently. "Try to remember, Helen, an' pick which one ye think 'tis."
The smaller woman stared at first one, then the other plant, then reached for the bigger-leaved one. "The larger one, I think."
Seonaid nodded, scooped up all the pieces they had of the larger plant, and tucked it in her plaid. "Come along, then; we'll offer to cook the sup. How did yer maid feed it to the Camerons?"
"In a stew."
"A stew it is then," Seonaid announced and led the way back to camp.
Her plan seemed simple enough. Offer to cook, make a stew, dump the leaves in, feed the men, wait for them to drift off, then saddle their mounts, free the rest of the horses, and set out. Simple.
Not so simple.
"Let you cook the sup, my lady?" Blake actually laughed at the idea. "What? So you can poison me? I think not."
Seonaid did her best to look properly aghast at the suggestion. Then she did the only thing she could think to do. She shrugged and said, "Fine. Sister Helen merely mentioned she made a fine rabbit stew, which started me hankering for some. Howbeit, I shall survive with the stale bread an' old cheese we brought with us from the abbey. I'm sure you men have something to make do with too." Then she started to walk away. Much to her relief, Blake stopped her after two steps.
"The nun was going to do the cooking?" he asked with sudden and obvious interest.
"Aye." She turned back. "Well, you doona think I ken how to cook, diya?" she asked with a sneer. "My only contribution was goin' to be to catch the rabbits she'll need to feed us all."
Blake remained silent for a minute, then nodded. "Fine. But you are not hunting the rabbit. I will send a few men out after them. I shall set two men to build a fire and--" He paused suddenly and frowned. "We have naught to use for a pot to cook the stew."
Seonaid found herself flummoxed by the comment. Dear Lord, she hadn't even considered a pot would be needed for the stew. She almost slapped herself in the head for such stupidity, but before she did, Helen stepped forward and blurted, "I have a pot, my lord."
Seonaid turned to gape at the woman in surprise. "Do ye?" she asked.
Helen nodded. "Remember the sack I mentioned leaving in the stables when you asked if I had brought anything with me?"
"Aye." Seonaid nodded.
"Well, the pot is in it. 'Tis why I left it in the stables but collected it when we were saddling the horses. I thought ... well ... it saved my life once." She shrugged.
Seonaid could have hugged the woman for such brilliance. Her respect for Helen rose. She was a clever wench.
Aware Blake had started barking orders behind her, sending some men to hunt rabbit and others to start a fire, she shared a smile with the Englishwoman, then said, "Ye'd best ask him to assign some men to help ye root out whatever wild onions and such ye can find around here fer the stew, to cover the taste o' the weed. Do I offer, he's sure to get suspicious I'm tryin' to poison him again."
Helen nodded but didn't move. After a hesitation, she admitted, "I am not sure how much to add."
Seonaid frowned, then shrugged. "Guess."
"But if I add too much it could kill them."
"That would be little loss," Seonaid said with amusement, then sighed when she saw the alarm on Helen's face. The English never had understood the Scottish sense of humor. "I was teasin'," she explained. "Very well, 'tis better to err on the light side, I suppose. Even do they not sleep as long as we'd hope, so long as it is long enough for us to get away ..." She shrug
ged.
Helen nodded solemnly, then moved past her to approach Blake.
Seonaid decided to seek out a comfortable spot to settle. It would require a bit of time for the stew to cook, and it seemed to her a nice rest was in order did she wish to travel through the night. With Helen forced to cook the stew, there was little chance of her getting a rest, but if necessary Aeldra and Seonaid would take turns holding her up before them while they rode. It would slow them down, but there was little else she could think to do. She sat on a soft patch of grass, tried to relax, then lay on her side and closed her eyes. She sensed rather than saw Aeldra claim a patch of grass at her back.
"Will you stop glaring at the woman."
Blake scowled at Rolfe's impatient words but merely shook his head, never once taking his eyes off his betrothed. "She is up to something. I can feel it."
"She is sleeping," Rolfe said with exasperation.
"So she would have me believe," Blake said wisely. "In truth, she is plotting. And when she thinks she has me fooled and I have let down my guard, she will rise up and slaughter us all."
Rolfe gave a snort of laughter. "She is your betrothed, not some demon sent to plague you."
"Is there a difference?" Blake asked dryly.
Giving up on him, Rolfe shook his head and walked away, leaving Blake to stare at the woman he felt sure feigned sleep. She looked angelic in repose, but he had a tender set of jewels to prove she was anything but. Seonaid Dunbar was hell's spawn and that was all there was to it. He would not let down his guard around her again. He sat and watched her and could almost believe by the rhythm of her breathing that she truly was sleeping. He felt sure she hadn't yet given up. The woman had already proven herself too damned stubborn to simply surrender. Nay. She was up to something. He just wished he knew what it was.
The scent of the stew cooking eventually began to weave its way around the camp, and Blake found himself inhaling the aroma with growing anticipation. It felt as if he had been traveling forever. He had been forced to make do with moldy bread and moldier cheese for the majority of their meals during the trip. The very idea of a real meal, even something as simple as rabbit stew, was enough to have his mouth watering. The actual aroma of it, delicious as it was, nearly had him panting. He could not wait to eat.