by Lynsay Sands
It had been three days since she'd woken. Much to her dismay, the men had insisted she stay in her room, allowing her only to walk to a chair and back to her bed and usually with one of them hovering nearby in case her legs gave way.
To be fair to the men, Edith had been pathetically weak on first waking. Her attempt to get up from bed on her own the first time had been proof of that. Edith hadn't been much stronger the next day when she'd tried to rise again unaided. She'd managed three steps before falling.
Fortunately, Niels had woken up and quickly caught her before she hit the floor. That was when they'd insisted she shouldn't get up without one of them to help her, and to tell her that she was restricted to the room until she regained some of her strength. Edith had tried to argue with them, but it was hard to argue with four determined Buchanans. Honestly, they were worse than Saidh when it came to stubbornness. And the fact that, technically, they had no right to boss her about hadn't mattered to them at all. But yesterday she'd been determined, and the only way they'd managed to convince her to stay in her room was to promise she could leave it today without their trying to stop her.
Edith sat up in bed and glanced around. She was alone in her bed, which made a nice change. After two nights with Effie sharing her bed, Edith had insisted they move her to Brodie's old room next door yesterday. It wasn't that she minded sharing her bed so much as the woman's silent stillness and pallor made her feel like she was sharing it with a breathing corpse. It had begun to give her the creeps, and she'd found herself watching her to be sure she was still breathing.
Once the older woman was moved, Edith had become eager to clean up the chaos her room had fallen into. She'd assigned the men their own rooms, suggesting Rory take Hamish's room, which was next to Brodie's old room, so he could watch over Effie more easily. She'd then suggested Niels take Roderick's old room, which was next to that. Which left the two guest rooms across the hall from Roderick's and Hamish's rooms for Alick and Geordie.
That was when Geordie and Alick had packed up their bags and headed out for MacDonnell. Apparently they had been waiting until she was well on the way to recovery before taking news of her well-being to Saidh. It seemed they saw her ordering them about and cleaning up as a sign that she was definitely on the mend and not likely to relapse on them. The two men had left, intending to report to their sister on what had occurred at Drummond, and then would return to help them sort out who was behind the murders of her father and two older brothers.
Edith frowned at the thought. They'd talked about that a lot since her waking, but frankly no one seemed to have an idea of how to go about that task. Poisoning was a tricky business. They suspected someone was adding poison to the wine, which was more than possible. With her stomach still a bit delicate after her tummy ailment the week before, Edith had been avoiding wine. But anyone could have slipped poison in the wine cask, or the pitchers of wine on their way out to the table. The same was true of the stew she'd eaten while nursing Moibeal. Edith didn't even recall who had brought her stew that night, but even if she had, they didn't have to be the person who'd dropped poison in it.
Frankly, Edith had no idea how they could figure out who had poisoned her family members. The men hadn't really suggested anything useful either and she knew Niels had suggested Geordie and Alick ask Saidh and Greer if they had any ideas.
Edith pushed the linen and furs aside and slid her feet to the floor only to pause as her gaze landed on Niels, Ronson and Laddie on the floor to the side of the door. The trio was all wrapped up in Niels's tartan. Apparently Laddie had cuddled up in front of where Niels lay on his side, and Ronson had then cuddled up to the dog. The trio had then somehow wound up with Niels's tartan blanketing them all. The sight made her smile.
Niels had been rather grumpy for most of the three days since she'd woken, giving her stern looks and insisting she not do this and not do that. But when Rory had finally allowed Ronson to bring Laddie up to visit the day before, Edith had seen an entirely different side of Niels. Oh, he'd still been grumpy and growly to a degree, but he'd been incredibly kind and patient with Ronson, and Edith had really appreciated it. The boy obviously hadn't had a lot of male influence in his life and appeared to look up to Niels quite a bit. Laddie also appeared taken with the man, obeying his orders promptly and behaving with better manners than Edith had ever seen.
Their visit had been a breath of fresh air in the sickroom. Ronson had chattered happily away, telling her everything that had happened since she'd fallen ill, which amounted to not much of anything, but was still entertaining when the boy told it. She'd also enjoyed having Laddie snuggling up to her on the bed, even when the dog had licked her face like crazy. There was just something about dogs that soothed the soul, and Edith's soul had needed soothing after the events of the past weeks.
She peered at the trio spooning on the floor and shook her head faintly, not sure how Ronson and Laddie had ended up staying in her room all night. She did know that Niels had insisted that she needed guarding still and was determined to sleep on the floor by the door. But the last she recalled, Ronson and Laddie had been curled up on the foot of her bed, sound asleep while she and Niels had talked quietly, she in the bed, he in the chair next to her bed. She must have fallen asleep, however, because she didn't recall the man, boy and dog moving to the floor.
Wishing she had some artistic talent so that she might paint this scene and never forget it, Edith eased out of bed, freezing when Laddie immediately lifted his head. She gave him the gesture to stay, and he did, but the dog didn't lower his head and simply watched alertly as she moved to the chest at the foot of her bed to retrieve a gown. Edith picked the first one her hand touched and quickly tugged it on over her shift. It would have been nice to be able to change her shift, but she wouldn't risk it with Niels and Ronson there. She was anxious enough just standing there in her shift even though Niels had already seen her in it.
Once dressed, Edith quickly ran a brush through her hair, washed her face and hands at the basin on the table and then moved silently toward the door, putting out her hand again to order Laddie to stay. Unfortunately, there was only so much a dog could take and the moment she reached for the door handle, he stood up and started forward, dragging the tartan with him. Ronson immediately stirred, but Edith hardly noticed, her eyes were widening on Niels as a good portion of the tartan was pulled away from him before it fell off Laddie and dropped to cover Niels's face. It also left the man bare from about midchest down.
It wasn't until Ronson popped to his feet, scrubbing his eyes sleepily, that Edith managed to drag her gaze from more than she'd ever expected to see of one of Saidh's brothers. Giving her head a shake, she opened the door and stepped out into the hall, followed quickly by Laddie and Ronson.
"Should we--" Ronson began, but paused at once when she hushed him.
Edith closed the door carefully, and then ushered the lad up the hall. They were at the stairs before she stopped to eye him and asked, "Does yer grandmother ken where ye slept last night, or has she been worrying herself sick wondering where ye were?"
"I told her," he said just a little too quickly, and then babbled, "Lord Niels told me to go below and ask would it be all right, so I did."
"Ye did what? Ask her or tell her?"
Ronson grimaced, but then sighed and admitted, "She was heading into the garderobe when I came down, so I asked her through the door and she did no' say no, so I came back up."
Edith clucked her tongue and shook her head. "She probably did no' even hear ye. Ye ken her hearing is bad, Ronson. Why did ye no' just wait fer her to come out and ask her then?"
"Because she takes forever in there," he complained.
"Aye well, I'm afraid when we get old we all take a little more time in the garderobe," Edith said.
"Hmm." Ronson scowled. "No' like Gran. Sometimes I think she falls asleep doing her business, she takes so long." Heaving out a heavy sigh, he shook his head and said woefully, "I'm never getting old,
and that's the truth, m'lady. I'm no' spending all me time crapping in the gong."
Edith's eyes widened incredulously, and then, deciding a change of subject was in order, she asked, "What were ye going to say when we were leaving the bedchamber, Ronson?"
"I was just thinking mayhap we should wake Niels so he can keep ye safe from the murdering, pimple-arsed whoreson who done poisoned yer father and brothers," Ronson said earnestly.
Edith blinked down at the boy several times as her brain tried to accept the words that had just come from his mouth. She'd never heard Ronson use such foul language, but didn't have to think hard to know where he'd learned the words. The Buchanans did have a very colorful way of speaking. Even Saidh had a mouth so foul it could make your ears pinken.
"Er . . . aye, well I'm sure I'll be safe enough from the . . . er . . . pimple-arsed . . ." Edith paused and then just shook her head and started down the stairs, saying, "I'm sure we'll be safe enough at table, do ye no' think?"
"But Laddie'll have to go outside or he'll be pissing everywhere like a warty prick," Ronson protested.
"Oh, dear," Edith breathed faintly. Goodness. A little time with the Buchanans was certainly a lot of time when it came to learning, it seemed.
"So I gotta take him out," Ronson continued anxiously, following her down the stairs. "And then ye'll be all alone. I can no' leave ye alone, m'lady. That murdering whoreson might get ye!"
"I'm--Oh!" Edith gasped with surprise when she was suddenly swept off her feet and into someone's arms. Turning her head, she gaped at Niels and protested, "I can walk, m'lord."
"Aye, but ye're too slow. Ye were blocking the stairs," Niels argued with a shrug as he continued down the stairs, and then he added grimly, "And ye should no' have left the room without me."
"I was just telling her that, m'lord," Ronson assured him firmly, on their heels. "I told her as how we needed ye to keep her safe from the warty prick what poisoned her da and brothers."
"Actually, I believe he was the pimple-arsed whoreson, and Laddie would be pissing like a warty prick," Edith pointed out dryly, glaring at Niels as she did. When he just grinned at her, she whispered sharply, "His grandmother is going to kill me fer letting ye teach him such things."
Niels raised his eyebrows and then paused on the bottom step and turned to tell Ronson, "A man does no' use such words in front o' a lady."
Ronson looked confused and pointed out, "But ye do."
Niels pursed his lips and nodded. "Aye. I do," he admitted and then turned to cross the bailey floor, muttering, "I tried, m'lady, but by God's tooth he's right. I fear me brothers and I all swear something awful."
"Aye," Edith said on a sigh. "So does Saidh. I suppose there are worse habits."
Niels grunted what might have been an agreement to that as he set her on the bench at the table, and then glanced around and ordered, "Take Laddie outside, Ronson. His eyes are near floating he has to go so bad."
"Aye, m'lord," the boy said and hurried away, calling Laddie to follow just as the dog started to lift a leg by the end of the bench Edith sat on. Fortunately the dog obeyed and followed at once.
Niels watched them until they left the great hall and then dropped to sit on the bench next to Edith.
"He thinks much o' you," she said quietly.
"Aye. Well, I like him fine too," Niels said gruffly. "He's a good lad."
"He is," she agreed.
"It was good o' ye to take in he and his grandmother," Niels said softly enough not to be heard by others.
Edith shrugged. "Ye make it sound like charity. It was no'. I had positions fer both o' them."
"Aye. Ronson watches yer dog," he said with amusement. "Tell me the two o' them do no' simply follow ye around the keep all the livelong day."
"How did ye ken th--?" Catching herself, she stopped and clucked her tongue with irritation at giving herself away.
"Because they have been following me around in yer absence every time I left yer room," Niels answered her unfinished question, his tone dry. "'Tis obvious the lad usually follows ye around. Any question I asked about ye, he kenned the answer to."
Edith stiffened and turned to eye him suspiciously. "What kind o' questions?"
She was not soothed by the wide grin that suddenly claimed his lips.
"Ah, m'lady, I can no' tell ye how pleased I am to see ye up and about and well."
Edith turned quickly and smiled at Cawley as he claimed the spot on her other side and took her hand.
"I knew they could save ye," Cawley told her, squeezing the hand he held. "Thank God Tormod listened to me and finally agreed to let them in to tend to ye else ye'd have surely died."
"God's blood, Cawley," Tormod growled, dropping onto the bench next to him. "I was following orders. Once the lad pointed out that his brother might be able to save our lady, I let them in, did I no'? Despite the fact I'll probably be flogged fer it?"
"Oh flogged," Cawley said with disgust. "What's a little flogging when our lady is alive and well?"
"I do no' ken. Why do I no' take ye out front and give ye the floggin' I'll most like receive when the laird returns and then ye can tell what a little flogging is?" Tormod said grimly.
"Oh now, Tormod," Cawley said with alarm.
"I would no' do that and ye ken it," Tormod said on a sigh, and then asked, "Did ye talk to the cook, like I asked?"
"O' course I did," Cawley said at once.
"And?" Tormod asked.
"And he could no' remember who took the stew up to Lady Edith that made her sick," Cawley admitted unhappily.
"And?" Tormod repeated.
"And what?" Cawley asked warily.
"Is that it?" Tormod snapped. "I have been running meself ragged overseeing the men at practice and running the servants in Lady Edith's absence. I asked ye to do one thing, one thing--question the cook and his maids in the kitchen and find out what ye can--and that's all ye come back to me with?"
"Oh, well . . . I did try," Cawley said anxiously.
"No' hard enough," Tormod growled. "If we can no' sort out who put the poison in her food and drink then Lady Edith is still in danger. Get yer hairy arse into the kitchen and watch the food, make sure no one puts poison in anything. And ask questions while ye're there. Find out what ye can."
Cawley nodded eagerly and stood.
"And tell Cook he'd best make and bring out Lady Edith's food himself and never take his eyes off it while he does, because if she is poisoned again, I'll hang the two o' ye from the castle wall and let crows pick yer bones."
Eyes wide, Cawley nodded and waddled quickly off to the kitchens.
Tormod watched him go and then turned to the table with a sigh and muttered, "That ought to keep him out o' our hair for another day or two."
"Aye," Edith murmured and then glanced to Niels and noted his expression.
"Cawley is special," Tormod said when Edith hesitated to explain.
"Special?" Niels asked dubiously.
"Aye," Edith agreed. "He has a tendency to . . . er . . ."
"He tells tales," Tormod said mildly. "A lot. While he just claimed to Edith that he argued that you be let in, when Brodie returns he'll tell him just as earnestly, and right in front of her, that he tried to warn me against going against his orders and opening the gate to ye."
When Niels looked to her, Edith nodded solemnly. "It is what he's always done."
Niels pursed his lips and then asked Tormod, "So which is true? Did he argue you should let us in or keep us out?"
"Both," Tormod said with a scowl. "That is the hell of it. He never truly lies, he just . . ." He hesitated and then explained, "When ye first got here he argued we'd best no' let ye in, and reminded me Lady Victoria had said we were to let no one in. And then when ye mentioned yer brother was a healer and might save her, he argued I should let you in. But the moment I agreed, he began to argue that we should not."
Niels shook his head and asked with bewilderment, "Why is he the second here?"
"Because he is my father's half brother and he wanted to take care of him," Edith said quietly.
Niels eyebrows rose at the bald announcement, and then he asked, "Half brother?"
"'Tis a sad story," Tormod warned him, and then told it so that Edith didn't have to. "Ye see, the old bastard laird, Edith's grandfather, had banished Cawley and his mother when Cawley was but a lad. But Edith's father knew about it, and when the old man died he wanted to make up fer his behavior. He found Cawley, brought him here and made him his second, but then he made sure we all understood that it was in name only. When we say Cawley is special, we mean he's no' quite right in the head."
"My grandfather did no' just banish Cawley and his mother," Edith explained. "As a young boy Cawley somehow found out that my grandfather was his father. He approached him and told him he knew. I do no' ken what he was hoping to achieve. He probably just wanted a father, he was just a boy, no older than Ronson at the time, but Grandfather was enraged. He beat him horribly . . . nearly to death. And then he banished them both. Cawley's mother carried him away and did the best she could, but while his body healed, his mind was never the same again." She shrugged helplessly. "My father used to take them food and coins to try to help them get by, but could do little more than that until his father died."
"I see," Niels said quietly.
"The problem is that Cawley likes to be the center o' attention," Tormod said quietly. "If he is no' kept busy he will insinuate himself into everything and tends to cause confusion and strife."
"So, ye keep him busy," Niels said with understanding.
"Aye, and usually in the kitchens," Tormod said with a wry smile. "Because the one thing he likes best in the world is his food. In fact the minute he's in the kitchen he'll forget everything I told him and simply concentrate on eating."
"We think it is because he and his mother were nearly starving for so long," Edith said softly. "Now he eats all he can fer fear there will be no more tomorrow."
"Aye," Tormod said sadly. "Fortunately, Cook is a good-natured sort and simply sits him in a corner with bowl after bowl of food and lets him jabber away."
"So ye did no' mean it when ye said Cook had best make and bring out Edith's food himself and--"
"Oh, aye, I meant it," Tormod interrupted with a grim smile. "But it does no' matter if Cawley tells him, because I told Cook that meself last night, and again this morning."