Saidh paused at her cousin's chamber door, but before she could raise her hand to knock, it flew open and Fenella grabbed her arm and dragged her into the room.
"Where ha'e ye been?" Fenella cried, slamming the door and whirling to face her.
"Fetching ye the applemoyse I had Cook make special fer ye," Saidh said warily and held out the treat.
"I did no' mean now, I mean all yesterday after the nooning and in the even--" She paused suddenly, nose twitching and then peered down at the dessert. "Applemoyse?"
"Aye." Saidh held it out to her. " 'Tis still warm from the ovens."
"It smells delicious," Fenella said on a little sigh.
"Aye. I took Alpin out with me yesterday and we found and picked the apples fer ye."
"Ye did?" Fenella asked with surprise.
Saidh nodded and shrugged. "Well, I remembered how fond ye were o' applemoyse and I thought it might cheer ye." She grimaced and added, "I gave them to Cook hoping he could make them in time fer ye to ha'e with sup last night, but 'twas too late, so he made it up first thing this morning."
"Oh, Saidh. That was kind o' ye," Fenella said, offering her a smile.
Saidh smiled back and then glanced around and moved to set the dessert on a very tiny table in the corner of the room that she hadn't noticed on her previous visits.
"I planned to check on ye last night after the sup, but I was no' feeling well and went to bed early instead," Saidh said as she turned back. She wasn't lying, she hadn't been feeling well when she'd left Greer in the great hall and stomped to the stairs to retire. She'd been cranky as an old hag. And she had gone to bed early, just not alone.
"I suspected ye were no' feeling well," Fenella admitted with a frown. "I ken ye had nightmares. I heard ye screaming yer head off and then Lady MacDonnell checking on ye." She grinned suddenly and added, " 'Twas rude o' ye to leave the old cow in the hall and no' e'en open the door when she'd dragged herself from her bed to look in on ye."
"Oh," Saidh said weakly, guilt flowing over her again at just how rude she'd been. She really needed to check on the woman after she left Fenella, and thank her again for her concern. Pushing that thought aside, Saidh glanced to Fenella and then waved her to the dessert. "Come, break yer fast. They were made special fer ye."
"I ha'e already broken me fast," Fenella confessed as she joined her by the table. "But I'll no' pass up applemoyse. You should ha'e some too though. Ye're the one who went to find the apples."
"Thank ye," Saidh murmured and scooped up a treat.
"Come." Fenella moved back to her bed and settled on it, then patted the space beside her. "We'll ha'e to eat here since Lady MacDonnell has seen fit to gi'e me such a small room there is no place fer furniture." She scowled bitterly and then added, "I suppose I'll ha'e to find another husband unless I wish to sleep in this hard cell fer the rest o' me life."
Saidh glanced to her with surprise. Just the day before Fenella had been moaning and weeping all over Greer's chest, sobbing that Allen was her true love and she would never get over him. Now she was planning to remarry?
Fenella caught her expression and scowled. "I ha'e to be practical, Saidh. I'm a young woman now dependent on the kindness o' me dead husband's family who suspect me o' killing him."
"Greer does no' seem to think ye killed Allen," Saidh said quietly.
"Nay." Fenella sighed. "He is verra kind too, and handsome in a rough sort o' way, and seems just as thoughtful and considerate as me Allen was." She lifted her gaze thoughtfully to the ceiling, and then tapped her chin briefly before murmuring, "I bet he would no' trouble me with his base needs either. Perhaps like Allen, he is above all that too."
Saidh pursed her lips, unsure what to say. She could tell Fenella that Allen had left her alone out of lack of interest rather than because he was "above all that." But that just seemed cruel. There was no need for her to know that now. But neither did Saidh think it was a good idea to assure her that Greer had some very strong base needs indeed, and a strong appetite for them. She might want to know how she knew, so didn't comment on it at all, and simply changed the subject.
"Fenella, tell me about yer marriages." Saidh winced as the words came out of her mouth. The question wasn't accusatory, but it certainly hadn't been as nonchalant as she'd hoped, or suggestive of a desire to chat and giggle about men the way women do either. But then, Saidh wasn't the sort to chat and giggle . . . well, usually, she acknowledged to herself. She had chatted quite a bit with Joan, Murine and Edith, and had even giggled with them a time or two, something she'd never done before.
Actually, she realized, Joan, Murine and Edith were the first female friends she'd ever had aside from her mother, who had been both friend and mother to her. Goodness, chatting and giggling with females, wearing her hair in this fancy style . . .'Twas as if she were growing out of the boyish ways she'd always embraced and turning into a girl, she thought with dismay. Next she'd be rubbing berries into her cheeks and on her lips, and going without braies.
Never! She thought grimly, but then reconsidered as it occurred to her that it would make it much easier for Greer to tumble her if she didn't wear braies under her skirts. He could just lift her skirt and his plaid and--
"What do ye want to ken? I already told ye about them."
Saidh blinked at those words and found Fenella peering at her almost resentfully. She hesitated, trying to think of a diplomatic way to find out what she needed to know, but really, there didn't seem to be one. Besides, it did seem to her that catching Fenella by surprise was more likely to give her the truth than beating about the bush and hoping the truth would fall out. Sighing, she sat up straight, looked her in the eye and asked, "Did ye ken Lady MacDonnell attended yer marriage to the senior MacIver?"
Fenella blinked in surprise. "Nay. Did she?"
"Aye. In fact, she is one o' the women who helped wash and prepare the body fer burial."
"Oh." Fenella grimaced. "They all thought I should help, but I did no' ken what to do. Besides, I'd just lost me husband and was no' sure where things stood or what would happen to me next. I was in no fit state fer it."
"I'm sure she understood that. But, ye see, the problem is--and the reason Lady MacDonnell suspects ye o' ha'ing something to do with Allen's death, is that while she was washing the MacIver's face, she noted that his eyes were bloodshot, and that there was a goose feather in his mouth, both suggestive that he may ha'e been smothered with a pillow."
Fenella sat frozen for a long moment and then launched to her feet and rounded on her furiously. "Ye think I killed me husbands," she accused grimly.
Saidh stood up, shoulders straight, and met her gaze firmly. "I ken ye killed the first one," she reminded her quietly. "What I'm trying to do now is reassure meself that ye did no' kill the others as well. Four dead husbands in four years does seem like a lot o' bad luck fer one bride to suffer."
Fenella's shoulders sagged abruptly and she shook her head, saying sadly, "Oh, Saidh. Ye too?"
Saidh's gave up her stiff stance and sighed. "Fenella, I just--"
"Get out," Fenella interrupted quietly.
"I--"
"Get out!" Fenella roared, and then hurried to the table to grab up the applemoyse and turned to throw it at her. "And take yer damned food with ye."
Saidh instinctively ducked, then turned to see the applemoyse a crushed mess that was slowly running down the door behind her. She didn't stop to collect it, or clean the mess. That was Fenella's problem. She'd made it, she thought grimly as she slipped from the room.
Saidh paused in the hall after pulling the door closed, then hesitated. She had intended to check on Lady MacDonnell after seeing Fenella, but really wasn't in the mood. Still, the lady had been kind to her, and had even dragged herself from her sickbed to check on her last night when she'd screamed. And, as Fenella had pointed out, she had been rude in not even opening the door to her. Of course, she hadn't been able to at that point. She'd been naked and pinned to the bed by Greer's large
body. Still, she should thank the lady for her concern and apologize to her for causing it.
Sighing, Saidh turned and headed for the lady's room.
Chapter 9
"M'laird?"
Greer slowed to allow Bowie to catch up to him, but did not stop walking toward the castle. Nor did he look away from Alpin's pale, sleeping face. If he was sleeping, he thought grimly. The lad had screamed his fool head off when Greer had carried him into the loch, and much like Saidh, Alpin had tried to climb him to get out. But the boy was half Saidh's size. Greer had had little difficulty in keeping him from scratching his face off and holding him in the water. He'd kept the lad there until the boy had calmed and seemed to go to sleep, and then he'd pressed his cheek to his forehead to test his temperature. It was the only dry part of Greer by that point, but he hadn't been able to tell if the soaking had done the lad any good. He supposed he'd have to wait and see on the matter.
At the moment, he was more concerned by how still and silent the boy had remained on the ride back to the castle. He was eager to get him stripped of his wet clothes and tucked up in bed, which was why he wasn't stopping for his first to speak to him.
"The men reported just moments ago on seeing a traveling party approaching," Bowie announced, hustling to keep up with him. "They think they carry the Buchanan banner, though the party is far enough away they are no' sure yet."
"What?" Greer stopped walking to turn on the man. "But 'tis no' e'en the nooning yet. I did no' expect them ere the nooning."
Bowie shrugged helplessly. "Mayhap, 'tis no' them. The men can no' be sure at this distance."
"Oh, it's most like them," Greer said grimly and turned to continue walking. "Warn Cook and tell him to make sure all is ready, then send someone to the chapel to let Father ken."
"Aye, m'laird." Bowie said and hurried away as Greer continued with his small burden.
"I came to check on Lady MacDonnell," Saidh murmured when the lady's maid responded to her knock on the woman's chamber door.
"Oh, Saidh, that is so sweet." Lady MacDonnell's voice floated to them and her maid smiled and stepped back to allow her to enter.
She stepped into the room to find Lady MacDonnell sitting wrapped in furs by the fire, cupping a mug of something steaming in front of her face.
" 'Tis one o' Helen's tinctures," Lady MacDonnell said with an expression that was a cross between a grimace and amusement. "They taste vile, but work. I already feel better."
"Well, that's the important thing," Saidh said firmly as she moved to settle in the chair across from the lady. "I'm glad to find ye feeling better. I was concerned. And I felt bad too fer no' opening the door when ye came to check on me last night. I fear I . . ." She frowned and then said carefully, "In truth, I could no' seem to get up. I felt as if a great weight were pinning me to the bed."
"Oh dear," Lady MacDonnell said with concern. "I do hope ye're no' coming down with what I ha'e. Mayhap Helen should make ye a tincture too."
"Nay," Saidh said quickly. She could smell the swill Lady MacDonnell seemed to be avoiding having to drink and was quite sure the smell alone was vile enough to scare a body into healing itself rather than be forced to swallow it. Forcing a smile, she assured her, "I feel much better this morn, although I gather Alpin has taken ill."
"Greer's little squire?" Lady MacDonnell asked with alarm. "Oh no, what a shame. He's such a sweet lad."
Saidh wrinkled her nose at the claim, thinking she wouldn't exactly describe him that way.
"Helen, make a tincture for Alpin and we shall go check on him," Lady MacDonnell instructed now.
"At once, m'lady," the maid murmured and slipped from the room.
"Here, let me help." Saidh jumped to her feet, reaching for Lady MacDonnell's drink as she started to struggle to stand.
"Thank ye, dear," Lady MacDonnell murmured, quickly shedding the furs she'd been bundled in to reveal that she was dressed underneath. Free of the furs, she then reached for her drink and when Saidh gave it up, turned and dumped it in the fire with a shudder. "Dreadful stuff. I'd rather be sick than drink that muck, but do no' tell Helen. 'Twill hurt her feelings."
A soft laugh burst from Saidh, but she nodded quickly. "Yer secret is safe with me, m'lady."
"I knew it would be," Lady MacDonnell smiled at her, then turned to lead the way to the door, saying, "I truly am feeling much better today, but Helen likes to fuss. And in truth, I did no' feel sick last night, so much as just terribly tired, but that seems to have passed with a good night's sleep." Pausing at the door, she turned to inspect Saidh before shaking her head and opening the door. "I can see yer nightmares did ye little good last night, though. Yer looking a wee bit pale and tired this morning."
"Oh." Saidh flushed. "Well, I suppose I am a little tired."
"Well, then I recommend a good night of uninterrupted sleep," Lady MacDonnell said as she led her into the hall. "So, where is young Alpin? I hope Greer did no' make him sleep on the cold great hall floor last night with him feeling poorly."
"Nay. Greer sent him to sleep in his room on the foot o' his bed," Saidh assured her.
"Good, good," Lady MacDonnell said, starting up the hall. "I always did like Greer. He seems rough and gruff on the outside, and no doubt he's merciless in battle, but he's a good heart and kind to children and animals, and that's always a good sign." She glanced to Saidh and added, "Ye could do worse than a man like Greer to husband."
Saidh's eyes widened incredulously. "Oh, I--I mean he--is he no' already betrothed?" Saidh asked weakly. She'd just assumed he would be. Most nobles were betrothed while still in their swaddling, or not long afterward. She had been. Fortunately, the nasty bastard Ferguson she'd been betrothed to had been kind enough to drop dead ere claiming her.
"Nay. His father ne'er troubled to arrange a marriage fer Greer," Lady MacDonnell said grimly. "Greer's father was no' a kind, considerate man. 'Tis a wonder Greer turned out so well with him as an example. Or mayhap 'tis no' such a wonder after all, perhaps he learned how no' to behave from him."
"Perhaps," Saidh murmured as they reached the door to Greer's room and Lady MacDonnell opened it and led the way in.
Alpin was not huddled at the foot of the bed, he was tucked into the center top of it like a little lord. He also wore what appeared to be one of Greer's tunics, the sleeves rolled and rerolled so that they were above his hands. There was a damp cloth on his head, and a maid sat at the bedside, feeding him broth.
"Alpin, me dear," Lady MacDonnell crooned, crossing quickly to the bed. "I heard ye'd taken ill."
"Aye." The boy sat up with a grin. "But I'm better now. 'Twas horrible, the laird made me go in the loch to try to bring down me fever. I thought I'd die from the cold, but it seems to ha'e worked. I feel much better now."
"The laird said ye were to stay lying down," the maid said crossly, pushing at his chest.
"But I'm better now," Alpin protested, trying to stay upright. "Really I am."
"I fear yer maid and Greer are right, Alpin," Lady MacDonnell said gently, settling on this side of the bed to smile at the boy. "Ye should really lie down. Ye may feel better just now, but I suspect 'tis just a brief respite because Greer managed to get ye cooled down. I can see he is truly worried, else he would no' ha'e dressed ye in his own clothes and gi'en ye his bed."
"Aye." Alpin glanced down and ran his hands over the soft cloth of the shirt he wore. He was silent for a minute and then glanced up and asked worriedly, "Ye do no' think he'll ha'e to take me to the loch again, do ye?"
"Pretty bad, was it?" Lady MacDonnell asked sympathetically.
"Verra bad," he assured her, and then looking cross, added, "I tried to tell him ye did no' treat a fever that way, but he would no' listen."
"And yet it appears to ha'e brought yer temperature down," Lady MacDonnell pointed out.
Alpin shrugged discontentedly, and Saidh smiled with amusement at the confusion of expressions that covered the boy's face in quick succession. She then glanced c
uriously toward the open window shutters when she heard a commotion from outside.
"It sounds like we ha'e company," Lady MacDonnell said mildly, and Saidh moved to the window to peer out. She was too slow, however. The bailey was quiet again with little to see but soldiers and servants moving quickly about their business.
"Where is Greer?" Lady MacDonnell asked the maid as Saidh turned back to the room.
"He went to talk to the priest about something or other," the maid said with a shrug. "He said he'd return directly."
"Oh, good," Lady MacDonnell said and then they all glanced to the door with surprise when it suddenly burst open and men began to pile into the room.
For a moment, Saidh thought they were under attack. She even reached for her sword before she recognized the man at the head of the group. Tall, wide shouldered and with long dark hair half covering the scar on his face, he spotted her and rushed forward. It was like being run to ground by a bull. All Saidh had time for was to brace herself before he swept her off her feet and crushed her to his chest, growling, " 'Tis all right, wee Saidh. We're here now. We'll kill the bastard and take ye home."
"Aulay?" Saidh gasped with what little air he'd left her capable of breathing in. Pushing at his shoulders in a desperate search for more air, she managed to gain herself a little space, and asked with bewilderment, "Who are ye going to kill? And what the de'il are ye doing here?"
"Did ye really no' think we'd come when we got that message?"
Saidh turned with confusion to eye her brother Dougall at that growl. Second oldest and as big and strong as Aulay, Dougall could have been his twin except for the fact that he was unscarred. "What message?"
"Ne'er mind that," her third oldest brother, Niels growled, pulling her out of Aulay's arms and into his own. "Are ye all right, lass? Did he hurt ye horrible?"
"Let the lass breathe, Niels," her fourth oldest brother, Conran, snapped, tugging her away from him. "Ye've each about mauled her like a den o' those bears grandfather was always carping about battling."
"Grandfather ne'er saw a bear," her fifth oldest brother, Geordie, said with disgust. "Father said they were all hunted and killed here long ere grandfather was e'en born."
"Aye, more's the pity," her sixth oldest brother, Rory agreed on a sigh. "I wish they had no' done that and we still had some wandering about. I'd love to wrestle one."