My Devilish Scotsman
Prologue
The woman hummed a tune she had heard recently and fancied, as she prepared the final fatal dose of poison for her current husband. Excitement gripped her, anticipation of the long-awaited denouement. She liked to draw it out, to watch them suffer and decline as they looked to her to care for their needs. And she did. Sympathetically. Lovingly.
They deserved her special treatment. Most of them had been very good to her. She worked hard to make their short time together full of happiness.
She brought the steaming cup, poison masked in rich broth, to her husband. He was older than the others, but wealthy and kind. Handsome in a distinguished way, with graying black hair and dark eyes, and a finely muscled form before the poison had wasted the muscle from his bones. He'd reminded her of another man.
The memory soured her pleasure, so she was rather brusque when pressing the broth into her husband's hands, sloshing some down the front of his snowy white nightshirt. He looked up at her uncertainly. So worried and dependent that her heart softened to him.
She sat on his bedside and dabbed up the spill. "There, there, my love. This wil ... read full excerpt from: My Devilish Scotsman ebook
