by Lynsay Sands
"Cawley?"
Niels glanced around sharply at Edith's voice and scowled at the two men on her heels as she slid past him and rushed to her uncle.
"I told ye to watch her," he snapped.
"We are," Geordie said at once. "But as she pointed out, ye did no' say where we had to watch her, so we watched her all the way in here and we're watching her still."
"Speaking o' which," Alick said now. "I'm watching her about to get blood all over herself do ye no' move her away from the body."
Niels swung back to see that she'd knelt next to her uncle and was indeed about to get her gown bloody. A pool of the dark liquid was now visible, spreading out from under the body. Cursing, he moved to Edith and lifted her away.
"Nay, Niels! Cawley's hurt," Edith protested, trying to break free of his hold.
"He's no' hurting anymore, lass, he's dead," Niels said quietly, scooping her into his arms to carry her from the room.
"But what happened?" she asked sounding bewildered.
"I do no' ken, lass. Rory'll examine him and find out," he assured her.
"But there was blood," Edith pointed out as if he might have missed that fact.
"Aye," he murmured, and carried her to the chairs by the fire where Ronson's grandmother was busy with her mending. The old woman glanced up at their arrival, started to peer down to her needle again, but then blinked and raised her head again to stare at them with surprise as Niels settled in the chair with Edith in his lap and began to chafe her hands.
Frowning, she set down her mending and asked, "What's the matter? What's happened? Has she had a fall?"
Niels stopped chafing and peered at the woman with some surprise of his own, amazed that she appeared to be oblivious to the chaos taking place behind her. And then he noted that she had spoken quite a bit louder than necessary, and he realized that the old woman had some hearing issues.
"Nay," he said finally. "She's just upset. Cawley's dead."
Uncertainty crossed her face briefly, and then Ronson's grandmother nodded. "Aye. Cawley upsets everyone at some point or other I think. He's no' right in the head," she said, pointing at her own head. Leaning forward, she patted Edith's knee. "Do no' let whatever Cawley said upset ye, lass. He does no' mean it."
Edith stared at her blankly for a minute, and then turned and buried her face in Niels's chest. Quite sure she was crying, although she was doing it silently, Niels patted her back helplessly.
"There now, see?" Ronson's grandmother crooned, patting her knee again. "Have a good cry and forget about whatever nonsense Cawley was spewing. 'Twill all be fine."
Niels's eyes widened in alarm when he heard a smothered wail against his chest and he began to pat her back with both hands.
"Yer that Lord Niels fella my grandson's taken such a shine too, are ye no'?" the woman asked suddenly.
Niels nodded distractedly, quite sure he could feel dampness on his chest now.
"Yer no' the one teaching him all those cuss words, are ye?"
Freezing, he turned guilty eyes to the woman. Noting the sudden tension in her face and the unpleasant squint she was eyeing him with, he swallowed and said, "Er . . ."
"Good," the old woman said, her body relaxing and a smile wreathing her face. "I suspected a fine lord like yerself would no' sink to using such foul language as I've heard come out o' me sweet boy the last few days. Still, I'd a taken a switch to ye fer teaching him such and the like anyway if that were the case, lord or no'," she said firmly. "So it's glad I am it was no' you."
Sitting back in her seat, she poked the tip of the thread she held through the eye of a needle as she added, "It was probably that Cawley. I'll have to have a talk with him later about it. I'll no' take the switch to him though," she reassured them when Edith wailed louder into his chest. "He's no' right in the head that one and does no' ken better. But I'll tell him in no uncertain terms to watch his tongue around the boy from now on, I will."
Still patting Edith's back, Niels stared at the woman in bewilderment, not sure what to say, and then turned with relief when he spotted Geordie and Alick rushing toward him. Arms tightening around Edith, he stood and moved to meet them.
"What did Rory find?" he asked as soon as they paused.
"He's dead," Alick murmured, dragging his gaze from Edith in Niels's arms.
"Nay! Really?" Niels asked with feigned surprise.
Geordie choked on a laugh, and then coughed to clear his throat and said, "He's thinking we all need to have a little sit-down and a chat, but somewhere we'll no' be overheard."
Niels nodded grimly and then shifted his attention to Edith as she sniffled and hiccuped into his shirt. Sighing, he said, "Edith's room then, and tell Rory to bring something to make Edith sleep. She's overset."
For some reason, that set her to crying again. Frowning, Niels pressed her to his chest and began to bounce her lightly in his arms as he rubbed her back now, trying to soothe her.
"I'll tell him to bring enough fer the both o' ye," Geordie said dryly and when Niels appeared surprised, he pointed out. "Yer bouncing her around like a bairn what needs burping, Niels."
Niels stopped bouncing her and scowled. "Just tell him to bring Tormod too," he muttered and then turned to head for the stairs.
He'd carried Edith up the steps to the upper landing and along the hall to her room before she said anything, and then she pushed away from his chest and peered up at him through deep green pools of sorrow.
"I'm sorry, m'lord. I do no' ken why I'm crying. I did no' even cry when me father and brothers died. There was so much to do and . . ." She shook her head helplessly.
"Then that's probably why, lass," Niels said, pressing her face back to his chest and reaching to open the door to her room. "Ye never got the chance to grieve properly and now it's all just hitting ye at once."
"Mayhap," Edith agreed on a sigh and shook her head against his chest. "Poor Cawley. He was such a gentle soul. And there was so much blood. What happened?"
"Rory'll tell us when he comes," Niels murmured, kicking the door closed and crossing to sit on the side of the bed with her in his lap again. He had spotted the hilt of a knife in the man's chest, just peeking out from the folds of his tartan, but had no intention of telling her that until he had his brothers to back him up. Niels had no idea what to do with a crying woman. Saidh had never cried growing up. Well, except when their parents had died. She'd cried then and, come to think of it, none of them had known what the hell to do about it then either, so they'd just left her to sort it out herself and waited for her to come find them once the storm was over so they could distract her, and themselves, from their sorrow.
That was it, Niels realized. He needed to distract Edith from her sorrow, he thought and immediately had an idea about how to do it. Well, he knew how he'd like to do it anyway. He'd wanted to kiss her again ever since the incident at the loch. Unfortunately, his better side was asking if that was really suitable to the moment. Unleashing his lust on her when she was grieving might not be the most--
"Niels?"
"Hmm?" he asked, glancing down distractedly when she leaned back to peer up at him.
"Will ye please kiss me again?"
Niels blinked and then shook his head and marveled, "'Tis as if ye're reading me mind, lass."
"It is?" Edith asked with confusion.
"Oh, aye, 'tis," he assured her and then lowered his head to claim her mouth, only to freeze before their lips met as a loud "ahem" filled the room.
Pausing, they both turned to stare blankly at Moibeal.
Blushing to the roots of her hair, the young maid began to sidle toward the door. "I'll just finish cleaning the room later and leave now, shall I?"
"Aye," Niels growled even as Edith whispered the word.
Nodding and bobbing, the maid reached the door, opened it, smiled and then slid quickly out.
Sighing, Niels turned and smiled at Edith, then started to lower his head again, only to pause as a knock sounded at the d
oor.
"Moibeal," Edith complained.
"Moibeal just headed below," Geordie announced, opening the door and sticking his head in. "Should I call her back?"
"Nay." The word was a near squeal as Edith scrambled off Niels's lap.
Niels sighed to himself. He had no idea why she was so embarrassed to be caught in his arms. He'd been carrying her around downstairs and holding her in his lap in front of all and sundry just minutes ago and it hadn't seemed to bother her then. Now, however, she was reacting as if they'd been caught being naughty.
Mind you, a couple of more minutes and they might very well have been caught being naughty, Niels acknowledged. Because he knew without a doubt that a simple kiss would not have been enough for him. Given another five minutes alone with Edith and her sweet mouth, and Geordie would have really interrupted something. Niels would have had her on her back on the bed and his hands would have been all over her.
Unfortunately, they'd never even managed the kiss, and it seemed obvious he'd have to wait until later to distract Edith with them.
Chapter 7
"Stabbed?" Edith said slowly, her mind unable to comprehend what Rory was saying. "Someone stabbed Cawley?"
"Aye. With this," Rory said and held up a black-handled dirk.
"That's my father's," Edith gasped, moving quickly forward to stare at the ornate ruby-topped handle. She could hardly believe it.
"Are ye sure?" Niels asked, moving to her side to peer at the weapon.
"O' course. 'Tis one o' a kind. I'd no' mistake it fer another," she murmured, her gaze sliding over the weapon again. She'd always thought it beautiful, but now, with Cawley's blood still on it, the beauty was somehow tarnished.
Turning, she walked to the bed and sat on the end of it. "Who did it?"
The men all glanced at each other silently, and then Tormod said, "No one kens."
"What?" she asked with dismay. "But there were a ton o' servants in the kitchen."
"Aye, and every one o' them was watching the food to be sure no one poisoned it," Tormod said grimly. "No one was paying attention to Cawley. They just left him to sit in his corner eating the pastries Jaimie made fer him and . . ." He shrugged helplessly. "No one saw a thing until Cawley tumbled off the barrel he was sitting on and began to bleed on the stone floor, and they said no one was near him when that happened."
"How could no one have been near him?" she asked with disbelief. "Someone had to have stabbed him."
"He was stabbed in the heart, Edith," Rory said softly. "He died almost at once. He may have sat in a stunned state for a count of three or ten before dying and tumbling from the barrel, or may have died leaning up against the wall and only tumbled from it afterward. Either way would have given whoever stabbed him a chance to slip away."
"Aye," Edith breathed the word out and then rubbed her forehead before asking, "But why would anyone kill Cawley? He was harmless."
There was silence and then Niels said, "He was yer father's brother?"
"Half brother, aye," Edith admitted. "Technically, he was me uncle, though me brothers and I never called him that," she murmured and then narrowed her eyes on him. "Ye're thinking this is connected to the poisonings?"
Niels pointed out almost apologetically, "Well, 'tis another family member dead."
"Aye, but Cawley was no' officially family," she said with a frown.
"Ye said everyone at Drummond kenned he was yer father's brother," Rory reminded her quietly.
"Well, aye, but--"
"Could he have inherited Drummond?" Geordie asked.
Edith shook her head. "Nay. Brodie is next in line."
"But if Brodie returned and died, and you died," he added quietly. "Could Cawley have inherited then?"
"Well, I suppose," she admitted, her brow furrowing. "If all of Father's children died without heirs, I suppose it could have passed to Cawley as his half brother and closest living relative."
"And who would inherit after that?" Rory asked.
Edith pursed her lips and thought briefly and then shrugged helplessly and said, "Tormod I think. Yer father and me grandfather were brothers, nay? Ye were me father's cousin?"
"Aye," he admitted reluctantly.
Edith nodded and then turned to Niels and said, "But Tormod is no' the one who killed Cawley. He was sitting with us fer a good hour before ye came below and he came from the bailey when he joined us. I saw him go nowhere near the kitchens. There is no way Cawley sat there dead in the kitchen for an hour without anyone noticing."
"Nay," Rory agreed. "The blood would have run down his body and there was no sign of that. I do no' think he was dead more than a minute or so before tumbling to the floor. If that. Tormod could no' have killed him."
"Thank God," Tormod muttered with feeling.
Edith moved over to pat the man reassuringly on the arm, but said, "Mayhap it has nothing to do with inheriting Drummond. Mayhap 'tis one o' the clans we're feuding with getting us out o' the way, or someone seeking revenge against the family for some unknown injury. Or mayhap Cawley's death has nothing to do with the poisonings," she added.
When her words were met with silence, she threw her hands up with exasperation and headed for the door.
"Where are ye going?" Niels asked with concern, following her.
"Well, 'tis clear we ken no more now than we did after the poisonings," she said impatiently. "And I am sick to death o' thinking about it. I am going to take Laddie fer a walk."
"No' by yerself, ye're no'," Niels said firmly, catching the door as she started to pull it closed behind her. He followed her out of the room and trailed her to the stairs before asking, "How long has it been since ye took yer mare fer a run?"
Edith stopped at the top of the stairs and admitted unhappily, "Too long."
"Then mayhap we should go fer a ride," he suggested gently. "It might do us both some good to feel the wind in our hair and run fast through the woods."
Edith hesitated and then nodded. "Aye," she breathed.
Smiling, Niels took her hand and started eagerly down the stairs.
Ronson was sitting on the floor with Laddie by the fire. Both started to rise when they saw them, but Niels waved them off and picked up speed as they stepped off the stairs and started across the great hall.
By the time they got outside and headed for the stables, Edith was almost running to keep up with him. She didn't mind so much, she had a lot of pent-up energy she needed to spend. It was something that had seemed to trouble her ever since their trip to the loch. She'd been restless and almost dissatisfied as she'd gone about setting to rights the small things that had been neglected at Drummond while she was ill. But her mind had constantly been on Niels and what he'd made her feel, and her eyes had repeatedly sought him out with a sort of yearning.
Unfortunately, while she'd wanted to be closer to him, he'd seemed to be avoiding her just as eagerly. At least he'd been avoiding touching her, even in the most random manner. There had been no polite holding of her arm as he'd escorted her below in the morning, no brushing of arms or other body parts as he reached for something at the table. In fact, he hadn't even sat next to her. Instead, she'd found herself between Tormod and Ronson, or Rory and Ronson, or Rory and Tormod with Niels on the other side of one of them. She had no idea why. But it appeared whatever had made him keep his distance had been resolved, because he was holding her hand as he led her into the stables.
"The stable master's no' here," Niels murmured as they entered.
"What can I do to help?" Edith asked as they approached the stalls where her horse was housed next to his.
Pausing, Niels turned and caught her by the waist to set her on the rail of one of the stalls and instructed, "Sit here and look pretty. I'll no' be a moment."
Edith blinked at him as he moved off to begin saddling his horse, and then slid off the rail and moved to collect her mare's saddle. No one had ever instructed her to sit and look pretty. She didn't even know how to do that. Edith had never e
ven thought of herself as pretty. Smart? Yes. Hardworking? Yes. Kind? Yes. But no one had ever said she was pretty. Certainly not her brothers, and Edith didn't have a lot of experience with men besides her father and brothers.
"Ah, lass. Ye never listen to me," Niels said with amusement, moving to help with her horse once done with his own.
"I've never taken instruction well," she admitted wryly. "Me brothers always said I was difficult and contrary."
"I'd have said intelligent and independent," he countered lightly, finishing with the saddle. Once done, he set her on her mare and then led the animal out of the stall as he added, "And I happen to like that about ye."
Edith found herself beaming at the words.
"I'll be right back," Niels assured her once he had her out of the stables. He went back in, but returned a moment later leading his stallion and Edith found herself admiring the lines of both males as Niels mounted. Catching her looking, he grinned briefly and then nodded toward the gates. "Ye ken the area better than me. Lead the way."
Edith hesitated briefly, and then knew exactly where she wanted to go and steered her horse out of the bailey at a trot. The moment they'd crossed the bridge, she urged the mare to a run down the hill and into the woods. Edith didn't look back to see if Niels was following. She had no doubt he'd be able to keep up. His horse was a fine beast.
The spot Edith had decided on was a good distance away, but not so far as to be dangerous. Still, her mare was winded from a combination of the distance and the speed they'd traveled at by the time she reined in.
Pausing on the edge of a field of heather, Edith peered over the small meadow and breathed out a little sigh of pleasure. This was exactly what she'd needed. Her favorite spot when the world seemed to be crowding in on her. This was where she'd come when her mother had died, when she'd learned the man contracted to be her husband had died and where she wanted to be now.