by Lynsay Sands
"Fresh water from the well, and the fixings to make broth." Turning to Geordie he said, "Mayhap that rabbit ye caught this morn on our way here, brother, and some vegetables."
Geordie nodded and turned toward the door. "I'll fetch the rabbit and fixings from me saddlebag."
"And I'll get the water," Alick said, turning as well.
"Make sure the water is fresh from the well, Alick, and make sure ye let no one near it on yer way back," Rory said firmly.
Nodding, Alick followed Geordie out of the room.
"What can I do?" Niels asked.
"We'll need mead or cider too. But I want a fresh cask to be sure no one has tampered with it."
"Come with me. I'll get ye what ye need," Tormod said abruptly and led him from the room. They walked in silence until they reached the stairs and then the man muttered, "I can hardly believe it. Someone murdered our laird and his sons."
Niels grunted in agreement, a frown curving his lips. This was a problem he hadn't expected when he'd agreed to come here. And it was a problem. He couldn't just leave Rory here to nurse Edith Drummond back to health with a murderer wandering around Drummond poisoning people. He couldn't even bundle up Edith and transport her back to MacDonnell for Saidh and Rory to tend to there either, because if Edith survived, she'd have to return here . . . where again there was a murderer wandering around poisoning people.
Niels and his brothers had been raised with the belief that it was their place to protect the weak and in need when they could. Edith was definitely weak and in need, and with Greer taking care of his shipment, he could take the time to help sort out the situation here and keep her safe from further attacks.
Mouth tight, he considered everything Tormod had told them on their way above stairs and asked, "Ye said the laird and his older sons fell ill first?"
"Aye."
"And Edith did no' fall ill until the last of the three died?"
"Aye."
"So she was no' poisoned at the same time as her father and brothers," he said thoughtfully.
"Nay, she must ha'e been poisoned after," Tormod agreed solemnly and then pointed out, "As were the maids."
"Aye." Niels frowned.
"What are ye thinking?" Tormod asked.
"I'm thinking if she and the maids had been poisoned at the same time as the laird and his elder sons I would be looking to Brodie fer an explanation," Niels admitted dryly.
"Because he was the only one who would benefit from the deaths of his elder brothers and father while Lady Edith and the maids may ha'e merely been accidentally poisoned along with them," Tormod said with a nod, and then admitted, "When the three men died I did think it most convenient fer Brodie. Without that, he never would ha'e had a chance to be laird here."
"Aye," Niels agreed, and then shook his head. "But there was no need to poison Edith too. She is the youngest child, is she not?"
"She is. So he does no' benefit from her death," Tormod said, but added, "Except to get her out o' the way. Brodie's new bride did no' care fer Lady Edith much."
"Nay?" Niels asked with interest.
"Nay," Tormod assured him. "Their relationship was tepid at best ere this all happened, but when the old man died and the two elder sons looked to be going the same way, Brodie stepped up to act as temporary laird until the men died or recovered. Lady Victoria considered herself lady of the castle then and tried to boss the servants about, but they were no' having that. Lady Edith has been lady here since her mother's death and they all automatically turned to her fer guidance. Lady Victoria would give an order and the servants would go to Lady Edith to see if they should obey, and that infuriated Lady Victoria."
"Hmm," Niels murmured, but then shook his head. "Still, Brodie could easily ha'e sent Edith to the nuns to be rid o' her did his bride ask it. Besides, that does no' explain the maids being poisoned."
"Nay," Tormod agreed, his brow furrowing. "And old Effie in there is Lady Victoria's maid. Lady Victoria is very fond o' her, I'm sure she'd no' poison her."
"Lady Victoria left without her maid?" Niels asked with surprise. While his sister, Saidh, had been known to do that, most ladies he knew would not travel without a maid to help them dress and such.
"Nay. She took her younger maid," Tormod answered and then explained, "Effie was Lady Victoria's nursemaid as a child and became her lady's maid once she was old enough to need one. Howbeit she's an old woman and no' as quick as she used to be so a second maid, a young girl, was taken on to help her with her tasks. The younger maid went with Lady Victoria and Effie was left here. Lady Victoria feared the trip might be too much fer the old girl after so soon arriving."
"Hmm," Niels muttered, and pondered that before asking, "Lady Edith's maid died?"
"Nay. She recovered," Tormod said solemnly. "She's down helping in the kitchens fer now." Mouth twisting with irritation, he added, "The lass has been fashing to tend her mistress, but the last thing Lady Edith said when she fell ill again herself was that Moibeal should be kept away from her. She did no' want the lass to get sick again too as she had. O' course, she had no idea they were being poisoned."
Niels nodded.
"Ye ken," Tormod said now, "it occurs to me that if 'twas the wine cask that was poisoned, then Lady Edith's falling ill may ha'e just been an unintended side result of the culprit's attempt to kill the laird and his elder sons."
"Aye," Niels agreed, but argued, "Howbeit the maids would hardly be drinking wine. At least they do no' at Buchanan. There the wine is fer the family only. The servants and soldiers drink ale, cider or water."
"Aye, 'tis the same here," Tormod agreed. "And they should no' have had any, but that does no' mean they did no' have any."
"Hmm," Niels murmured and decided he should probably have a talk with the maid.
Chapter 2
The sound of a terrible explosion woke Edith. Blinking her eyes open, she glanced frantically around the room, and then jerked her gaze to her right as the sound came again. She gaped at the man slumped in the seat next to the bed. He was the source of the sound. Not an explosion at all, but a loud, snuffling snort as the fellow snored in his sleep. Dear God, she'd never heard such a loud, horrendous sound.
Edith stared at the man blankly, wondering who the devil he was and why he was in her room, and then she noticed the woman in bed next to her and peered at her with mingled confusion and concern. She recognized her at once as Victoria's maid, Effie. But finding her in her bed was somewhat surprising. The fact that the woman looked terribly ill just added to her bewilderment. The old woman was extremely pale, not an ounce of color in her thin, wrinkled skin and she was completely unmoving too. Effie was so still Edith wasn't even sure she was breathing at first. She was beginning to worry the woman was dead when she noted that her chest was rising and lowering the faintest bit with slow, shallow breaths.
Relieved, Edith let out the breath she'd been holding and then glanced around her chamber again. Her room was generally neat and tidy, but at present it looked like there really had been an explosion. An empty mug lay on its side on the bedside table, next to one standing up and two empty bowls. A bread crust and another cup and bowl were on the bedside table on the other side, and then a cask sat on the table at the far end of the room with several more metal cups and bowls between it and a small pile of browning vegetable peels. There was also what appeared to be a rabbit pelt, freshly skinned.
Wondering who had held the party in her room while she was sleeping, Edith glanced over the floor now, noting the sacks lined up against the wall. There were four in all with various items spilling out of them: cloth, vegetables, weapons. And the rush mats on the floor were both crushed and kicked aside, showing a lot of use and definite trails from the door to both the bed and table, and then from both the table and bed to the fireplace where a pot of something was bubbling over the fire.
Edith didn't have a clue what to make of all that, or the fact that there was presently a man at her bedside like some very loud guardian
angel.
Or perhaps just a guard.
That last thought was a bit disturbing. Edith knew she'd been sick for a while. The mess in her room suggested it had been quite a while. What had been happening at Drummond while she was out of her head with illness? Had one of the clans they were feuding with learned of the deaths of her father and brothers and decided to take advantage and attack the castle?
The idea was an alarming one, particularly since she had not been awake to aid in defending against such a happenstance. Her brother Brodie, much as she loved him, was spoiled rotten and not the most capable of men. He would be useless in such a situation she was sure.
Biting her lip, Edith peered warily at the man slumped in the chair next to the bed. He was a big fellow, with wide shoulders and a youthful but not unhandsome face. He was also a complete stranger, not one of the Drummond men. Her gaze dropped to Effie again and she nudged her with her elbow, hoping the woman would wake and tell her what was going on and what had happened while she was ill. When the first nudge had no effect, she gave her a second, firmer poke, but that produced no response either.
Deciding to let the poor woman rest, Edith sat up, or tried. Honestly, it was an effort just to get herself into an upright position. She was as weak as a babe and had to turn on her side and slide her feet off the bed so her legs hung off it, and then push herself up into a sitting position.
Panting and sweaty from what should have been an easy task, Edith swayed where she sat on the edge of the bed and eyed the door with grim determination. Her chamber wasn't really that large. She knew from experience that the door was only six large steps or so from the bed. But after the struggle she'd had to sit up, even six steps seemed an awfully long distance to cross.
Unfortunately, while waking the snoring man in her room would have been the easier option, Edith wouldn't even consider it until she knew if he was friend or foe. Which meant that if she wanted to find out what was going on in Drummond, and whether she was safe or not, she needed to slip out into the hall and get a look around. Preferably without waking her guard.
Determined to do it, Edith took a deep breath and then used every muscle at her disposal to get up. She pushed off with her hands and up with her legs and for one glorious moment she was upright and standing, and then she fell flat on her face on a rush mat just as the bedroom door opened.
"Bloody hell, Alick! Ye were supposed to be watching--Laddie! Nay!"
Edith pushed one eyelid up and then immediately closed it again as she spotted the huge tongue just inches from her eye. She barely got it closed before the side of her face was lashed with a very large slimy tongue from chin to forehead. Nose wrinkling, she listened to the pounding of feet quickly crossing the room. She noted that the snoring had ended abruptly just before a second male voice, sounding startled, cried out, "What? Hey! Where'd she go?"
"Idiot," the man now kneeling next to her muttered. Edith wasn't sure whom he was calling idiot, and didn't particularly care. She was too grateful to have Laddie's affectionate licking brought to an end and opened her eyes to see a man dragging the dog back toward the door by his collar.
"Ronson!" he bellowed.
"Oh, hey! Niels? How'd she get out o' bed?" Edith was quite sure it was the previously snoring man who asked that question since it came from the other side of the bed.
"How do ye think, Alick?" the first man growled and then bellowed again, "Ronson! Oh, there ye are. Get this mutt out o' here."
"Sorry, m'lord," Ronson cried, entering the room and hurrying to grab Laddie's collar. "He got away from me real quick. He's sneaky that way. But he's been missing Lady Edith and--Why is Lady Edith on the floor? What--?"
"Out," Niels growled. "Now!"
"Aye, m'lord," Ronson said, dragging Laddie with him as he shuffled backward toward the door. The boy beamed at Edith the whole way. "'Tis real fine to see ye awake, m'lady. Real fine. I'll bring Laddie back fer a visit when ye're feeling better."
The last word came muffled through the door as the man Alick had called Niels slammed it closed.
Edith could hear Niels muttering under his breath as she watched his large feet cross the room once more. It sounded like he was saying something about fools, lads and dogs who were really horses, and then he knelt next to her and she found herself turned and then scooped up off the floor and away from the nasty rush mat her face had landed on. It was dirty and beginning to mold, obviously in need of changing. She'd have to have the servants take them away and make new ones.
"Sorry about that," Niels growled, drawing her attention back to him. "The dog tends to follow me around, but usually stops in the hall when I come in here."
"Aye, Laddie follows Niels everywhere when he leaves the room," Alick told her solemnly. "So does young Ronson. They both seem to like him." Pursing his lips, he shook his head and added, "None o' us can figure out why."
Niels growled under his breath in response.
Edith glanced from one man to the other, unsure what to say. She had no idea if they were friend or foe. In the end, she merely nodded her head slightly. For some reason, that made the man carrying her smile and she blinked in surprise as his stern face suddenly turned very handsome. He had an incredibly appealing smile. It lit up his whole face and made his beautiful blue eyes twinkle. Edith couldn't resist smiling back as her eyes slid over his high cheekbones, straight nose, full lips and the wild, long hair framing it all. He really was very attractive.
"I'm Niels Buchanan," he announced, and Edith stopped gaping at how pretty he was and met his gaze as she recognized the last name.
"Not Saidh's--" That was all she managed to get out, and it was nothing more than a breathy sound. Her mouth was so dry she couldn't even work up spit in it. Fortunately, Niels didn't have the same problem and understood what she'd wanted to say.
"Aye, one o' Saidh's brothers," he assured her, turning toward the bed. Setting her down in it, he added, "And ye're Edith Drummond, one o' me sister's dearest friends."
"Aye," she agreed in a whisper as he tugged the linens and furs up to cover her. Edith's smile widened ever so slightly. Drummond hadn't been invaded by enemies. They were being visited by friends. "Is Saidh . . . ?"
"Nay, she's no' here," he said almost apologetically as he straightened. "She was too far along with child to make the journey and sent us in her place."
Edith's eyes widened. "With child?"
"Aye, she is," the other man said, reminding her of his presence. Niels had called him Alick, Edith recalled as she glanced to him. Which meant he was the youngest of the Buchanan boys, Edith thought as she watched the younger man grin widely as he continued, "And we think she's carrying more than one babe. She's only four months along but already big as a cow. Greer will no' even let her go up and down the stairs on her own fer fear she'll lose her footing and roll down like a great ball."
Edith's eyes widened at the news. She couldn't imagine rough-and-tumble Saidh not being able to walk down a set of stairs let alone restricted from riding. She didn't imagine the woman was taking that well. But she didn't understand why Saidh hadn't mentioned being with child in her last letter. At least the last letter she'd read, Edith thought and wondered if she'd received others from her friend since falling ill.
"Alick, go tell Rory she's awake," Niels ordered, walking to the table where the cask sat.
"Aye," the younger man answered and then smiled at her reassuringly as he moved around the bed. "Our Rory's a healer, and the finest one around. Why, he's the one who sorted out that ye were no' ill but being poisoned. He'll have ye feeling right as rain in no time."
Alick Buchanan nodded at her cheerily and turned to hurry out of the room, leaving Edith staring after him with horror. Poison?
"Idiot."
That mutter drew her gaze to Niels. He'd finished filling one of the cups with mead and turned to see her expression. Mouth tight, he shook his head and crossed back to the bed. "Forgive me brother. He has the tact o' a bull at the best o' times."
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"Poison?" she whispered, her voice raspy.
Cursing, he settled on the edge of the bed and slid an arm under Edith to raise her up. "Aye. Poison. But drink this ere ye try to talk again, else ye may do yerself some damage," he said, holding the mug of liquid up to her mouth.
Edith hesitated, more interested in this poison business at the moment, but then she gave in and took a tiny sip. Once the cool, wet liquid hit her mouth, she would have taken more, but wasn't given the option. She barely had a half mouthful before he lowered the drink.
"Just a sip. Ye were no' able to keep it down when last ye woke so we'll go slow this time."
Edith's eyes widened at the claim. "I woke before?"
"Aye," he said dryly. "But ye were a might confused and no' really alert. Ye drank some mead and then tossed it right back up all over me and passed out again. I'd rather no' go through that again."
Edith groaned and lowered her head with embarrassment.
"There's naught to be embarrassed about," Niels said and she could hear the frown in his voice. "I've four younger brothers who I've had to care fer as they tossed up their stomachs . . . and they were no' poisoned. It was just too much drink fer them. With you, well at least ye had a good excuse."
Reminded of the poison, Edith jerked her head up on a frown. "Me father and brothers?"
Niels winced at her raspy voice and raised the mead again. "Another swallow o' this, I think. This time swish it around real good and wet all the corners. Ye're obviously dry as a bone."
Edith dutifully took another mouthful of mead, but the moment she'd swished and swallowed, she asked, "Me father and--"
"Aye. Rory can no' be sure o' course, but he believes they were poisoned too. They had all the same symptoms. Except fer the . . . er . . . stomach issues," he said delicately. "But Rory suspicions that's what saved ye. Ye reacted to the poison and tossed it up each time ye had it. There was no' enough left in ye to kill ye as it did yer father and brothers."
Edith lowered her head on this news, her mind awhirl with grief and anger. It had been bad enough when she'd thought she'd lost her father and two brothers to illness, but to know they had been deliberately killed--Jerking her head up, she asked, "Brodie?"