"Well?" Seonaid asked quietly as Helen moved to sit between the women with a portion of stew poured into the last of their stale bread. "Will it work?"

"I am not sure," the redhead whispered anxiously. "I hope I used enough."

Seonaid hoped she had too but merely nodded. They would simply have to wait and see. Her gaze turned back to the men eagerly gobbling up the stew. They claimed it was most tasty fare, and Seonaid had little difficulty believing them. The scent wafting off the portion Helen had dished out for her smelled divine. She was almost tempted to eat it herself. Almost.

"They doona seem to be growin' sleepy," Aeldra murmured with concern as the men began to finish their food.

Seonaid didn't say anything, but slipped her bread bowl behind her back and tipped it over, dumping the stew in the grass. The last thing she wanted was for one of the men to notice they hadn't eaten it. Bringing the empty makeshift bowl back around, she traded it for Helen's full portion, then dumped it as well. She did the same with Aeldra's as she watched the men closely. Unfortunately, her cousin was right. They were all almost done and none were showing the least sign of weariness.

Her gaze turned on Blake with displeasure as she watched him pop the last piece of bread into his mouth. He had eaten the stew as well as the bread bowl holding it. Getting to his feet, he nodded toward the three women. "That was delicious, Sister. You have my thanks. Now I think I shall clean up at the river before retiring."

"How long did it take to work last time?" Seonaid asked Helen as the three of them watched Blake leave the clearing. She began to fear the Englishwoman had gone much too light with the plant in her worry at overdosing them.

Helen thought for a minute, then shook her head. "I am not sure. I recall it seemed to take forever, but I was frightened at the time. I knew did we fail, I would soon be dead."

Seonaid shifted with impatience. How long would they have to wait? Would it work? Dear Lord, what if they had grabbed the wrong plant and merely mixed a harmless herb in the stew?

She grimaced at the thought. The lost opportunity would be irritating, but almost equally upsetting would be the lost stew she had just dumped. It had smelled mighty fine, and if it was untainted and now feeding the earth ... well, that was a terrible disappointment. Were their plan not going to work, they might at least have had a good meal out of it.

Her thoughts were disturbed when Aeldra reached behind Helen to poke Seonaid in the side. She glanced at her cousin, then followed her nod to where a couple of the men, the ones who had eaten the fastest, were beginning to rub absently at their bellies.

Seonaid felt a prickle of unease race along her back as she watched the pained grimaces on their faces. They were looking a tad uncomfortable.

"Er ... Helen ..." Seonaid began, then paused. Two of the men had lurched to their feet and stumbled from the fire. The distant sound of retching soon followed.

"Oh, dear." Helen sounded shaky as a couple more men suddenly stumbled off into the woods. "Cameron's men did not react this way. I think it may have been the other plant, after all."

Seonaid bit her lip to hold back the nervous laugh that wanted to escape. It didn't help when she glanced at Aeldra and saw her goggling at the woman.

"Ye think?" her cousin asked with disbelief as several more men staggered off. "Ye think it might have been the other plant? I'm thinkin' it's pretty certain."

The camp emptied quickly. Seonaid could only be grateful Blake wasn't there to see his earlier suspicions being confirmed. As it was, several glances had been sent their way as the men headed out into the surrounding woods. The only ones not presently showing signs of discomfort were the three Scots Seonaid's father had sent out. They had passed up the stew in favor of their usual packet of oats, she noticed with concern. Damn. She hadn't considered them in this plan. It was an oversight that could be a real problem, she realized unhappily.

"Oh." Helen stood suddenly. Her face was a mask of misery as she watched Lord Rolfe and Bishop Wickham join the burgeoning number of men in the bushes. The men were not quiet in their agony, and the sounds were a torment to hear.

Aeldra stood too, trying to soothe her. "Now, now, Helen. 'Tis sure I am they'll be fine. A little discomfort is all they're sufferin'. They'll be right as rain on the morrow. Or the next day," she added as the cacophony of sounds grew around them.

"If they do not die," Helen moaned.

"Well, an' if they do, their sufferin' will end that much sooner," Seonaid said practically, drawing a gasp from the woman.

"Well?" Gavin asked.

Seonaid turned to the only men left seated by the fire. The three Scots were grinning fiendishly.

Now that he had her attention, the Scot asked, "Are ye goin' to make guid yer escape while ye can or no?"

Seonaid considered him briefly. "Are ye goin' to stop us?"

He merely shrugged. "The Dunbar didna say to stop ye, lass. Jest to keep Sherwell from killin' himself."

Seonaid felt herself relax somewhat. She hesitated, then told him, "We never meant to make them ill." She had to raise her voice to be heard over the retching taking place in the woods around them. "The stew was supposed to make them sleep."

"But I picked the wrong plant," Helen explained pitifully.

"I'll be sure to tell him," Gavin assured them with amusement.

Grimacing, Seonaid urged Helen to the horses, aware Aeldra followed. She had some trouble getting the Englishwoman to mount. Helen feared she had sentenced the men to death by her poisoning. Seonaid assured her the men would be fine, pointing out that they were purging the stew and whatever poison was in it. Helen didn't appear much relieved but did allow herself to be urged up onto a mount.

Seonaid and Aeldra then conferred over what to do about the horses. Gavin watched them closely and would no doubt raise a fuss did she try to free all of them. He'd not allow her to scare off his or his men's mounts. In the end, they took three horses: Aeldra and Seonaid's own as well as another horse to replace Helen's injured animal. Then they set the rest loose ... all but the three beasts belonging to her father's men. Seonaid knew she couldn't get away with setting them free. Unfortunately, she also knew that the rest of the horses probably wouldn't go far and would be easily rounded up with the horses she'd had to leave behind. Which meant all this trouble had bought them very little time in the end.

Blake stumbled back toward camp. His body trembled with weakness from an hour of retching at the side of the river and still he didn't feel much better. At least the heaving had stopped. Something in the stew obviously had not agreed with him, though he would not mention it to Sister Helen. The woman had worked for hours over the meal, and it had been quite tasty. Since the meat had been freshly caught, he suspected the culprit must be one of the wild vegetables and herbs the men had scavenged for her. He hoped he was the only one affected by it. The last thing he needed was three weak women on his hands. Blake loved women, but he preferred them warm and willing to ailing and wailing.

He reached the camp and stumbled weakly to the log he had been seated on earlier. He dropped onto it beside Rolfe, who sat, shoulders drooping, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The man looked rather pale and unwell, Blake noted, then frowned at the sight of the bishop lying on the dirt behind them, holding his stomach and moaning. It seemed he hadn't been the only one affected after all, Blake realized, and glanced around at the rest of the men. A good half of them were slumped around the fire, some clutching their bellies and rocking in silent misery, while more were staggering back out of the bushes to join them. There was no sign of the women.

"Were the women sickened too?" Blake asked with concern.

"The women?" Rolfe glanced around with bleary eyes. "I imagine they were. They must still be in the woods. Women are much more delicate than men. They would require more time to recover."

Blake grunted something of an agreement as his gaze moved to the fire. He sat still for a moment, loathe to move and stir up his stomach again, but

the women shouldn't be off alone in the woods. He knew he would have to check on them. After another moment had passed and none of the women rejoined the sufferers around the fire, Blake heaved back to his feet and forced himself to walk to the edge of the clearing. He paused there, really too weary to do a proper search. Instead, he called out into the woods, his only answer the moans of his men. He stood there, confused and shaky and wondering what to do next, when Little George lumbered out of the woods directly before him. In all the years Blake had known the giant of a man, he had never seen him unwell. It wasn't a pretty sight. Putting out a hand in case he took the notion of toppling on him, Blake asked, "Are you all right?"

Disgust flared on the giant's flat face and he shook his head. "I had three portions of the stew 'ere I started to feel poorly. I am paying for it."

Blake nodded in sympathy. He'd gobbled down two portions himself and wished he hadn't been so greedy. "Have you seen the women?"

Little George shook his head. "Have you asked the Scot?"

"The Scot?" Blake turned back to the fire, only then noting Gavin sitting, grinning like a fool. The man obviously wasn't suffering like the rest of them. But more importantly, he sat alone. The other two Scots were missing, and Blake didn't think for a minute they were with the other men in the woods. The Scots had refused to eat the Englishwoman's stew. Besides, the man looked terribly amused. He would hardly be so amused if his own men were ailing. Growling under his breath, Blake moved back to the fire, aware Little George was on his heels.

"Where are they?" Blake snapped without preamble and glared down at the Scot.

"Me men?" Gavin asked with a grin.

Tags: Lynsay Sands Deed Romance
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