31
“And you expect me to poison her?” The Welsh physician cut in on Malcolm with a tone that was more a growl than a response. The man was too thickheaded even to hear the Highlander out.
“Have you lost your mind?” Malcolm asked angrily. “If she gets even a wee bit ill from this, if she has even the slightest discomfort, I’ll wring your scrawny neck with my own hands.”
Graves shot to his feet, rising onto his toes like some outraged bantam c**k. “You’ll wring my neck? Why, you arrogant, bull-necked savage! One moment, you’re asking me to find a way to sicken her so she can avoid going off to court. The next, you’re threatening my life if I do just that. Which is it, man?”
Malcolm forced down his anger. “I only asked you to help her feign an illness. It must all be pretense.”
“And why
