“Aye. Poison. As ye thought,” Rory said grimly. Straightening from examining Edith, he turned to Niels and opened his mouth to say more, only to pause briefly with his mouth open and eyes wide, before saying with disgust, “Put some clothes on, brother, or at least clean the puke off your cock. Good Lord!”

Glancing down at the mess covering his groin, Niels scowled and then turned sharply and moved to the basin to begin cleaning himself as he asked, “Is she going to be all right?”

“I’m hoping so, aye,” Rory said, turning back to Edith.

“When we first got here ye said was she poisoned again she could die,” Niels reminded him grimly.

“Aye. If she’d been poisoned again at that time she surely would have died,” he assured him. “But she’s been eating well and rebuilding her strength since she woke up. And she seems to have tossed up the poison. Or at least I think she has. She certainly tossed up everything I know her to have eaten today. And some I did no’ ken about,” he added dryly before asking. “Did Jaimie make more pastries with preserves in them? I do no’ recall her eating cooked fruit.”

“Nay. She had that up here,” Niels muttered as he finished cleaning himself and moved to grab his shirt and pull it on over his head. Walking to the foot of the bed now, he bent and picked up the goblet the preserves had been in and handed it to Rory. “Was the poison in this?”

Rory took the goblet, sniffed it delicately and then stuck a finger in and licked it to taste the preserves. After a moment, he shook his head.

“I do no’ think it was in this,” he said, setting the goblet on the bedside table as a knock sounded at the door.

Niels moved to answer it, his eyes widening when he saw that it was Tormod, Geordie and Alick. When he saw that his brothers carried Edith’s trencher and drink from their celebratory dinner, he frowned and asked, “What’s that for?”

“I recalled ye mentioning that Edith seemed quiet and pale at dinner and wondered if the poison might have been in her food or drink at sup,” Rory explained, moving to join him at the door.

Niels frowned as he watched him sniff at the remains of food in the trencher and pointed out, “We ate out of the same trencher and I’m no’ ill. It can no’ be the food.”

Nodding, Rory handed the trencher back to Geordie and took the mead from Alick to sniff. The way he immediately stiffened made Niels narrow his eyes.

“Poison?” Tormod asked grimly.

“Aye, this smells like the tonic Victoria left behind,” Rory murmured, sniffing again.

“I thought that was all gone.” Geordie said with a frown.

“Aye. ’Twas,” Rory said grimly. “Obviously, someone made more.”

“So Victoria’s tonic was the source of the poison?” Niels asked grimly.

“I think so. But now as then ’tis hard to tell. The smell is very faint this time, but still carries the scent of several herbs,” Rory said and then peered at the nearly full glass and said, “It does no’ appear Edith drank much of this. That is something anyway.”

“But how did it get in the mead?” Geordie asked. “’Tis from the pitcher I got from the cask here in this room. The fresh cask we opened on arriving. ’Twas supposed to be safe. And I watched the pitcher I fetched every moment until ye and Edith went above stairs.”

“Except when we were at the wedding down at the church,” Alick pointed out. “Ye left it on the table then.”

Geordie shook his head. “Nay. If I could have taken it down to the ceremony outside the church I would have, but I could no’ so I dumped that pitcher and fetched fresh from the cask in here when we got back.”

“The cask in here,” Niels said slowly, turning to look at the cask in question. It sat on the table along the wall where Edith had been waiting for him naked in the dark. As Rory walked toward it, Niels reminded them, “The killer shot an arrow at Edith from this room just before noon.”

Geordie stared at him blankly and then turned to watch Rory sniff the liquid in the open cask. When he set it down, turned a grim face to them and nodded, Geordie cursed. “I’m sorry, brother. I did no’ think about the killer being in here and what they may ha’e done.”

Niels shook his head wearily. “Nay, neither did I. And I should ha’e. I guess I was just so distracted with the wedding and everything . . .”

He turned to peer at Edith in the bed. She looked so small and frail under the linens and furs Rory had pulled over her. And it was his fault. He’d failed to protect her. He wouldn’t do so again.

“I’m taking her to Buchanan the minute she wakes up,” he announced firmly, moving to the bed to sit on the edge of it and brush her hair away from her face.

“Aye. Mayhap ’tis for the best,” Tormod said sadly. “I shall be sorry to see her go, but ye may have a better chance o’ keeping her alive there. Even does the killer follow . . . well, surely yer people would ken if a stranger was in their midst. So there ye’d only have to worry about stray arrows when she went outside.”

Niels stiffened at the words, knowing they were true. She wouldn’t be completely safe even at Buchanan. Not if the killer was determined to get at her. But she’d be safer at least . . . if he could get her to stay inside the keep. Somehow, he suspected that wasn’t likely.

“I should go below and see if any more o’ the men I sent out have returned with news o’ Brodie,” Tormod muttered, moving toward the door. “Only one has returned so far and two o’ the keeps I sent men to were close enough they should have got there and back today.” Pausing at the door, he glanced back and said, “Let me know when she wakes, or—” Mouth tightening, he changed his mind about whatever he’d been about to say and said instead, “Just let me ken when she wakes.”

He didn’t wait for a response before leaving the room.

Niels heard his brothers talking in soft murmurs by the door, but didn’t bother trying to listen. He suspected they were discussing who would return to Buchanan with him and who would stay. He already knew Rory would be unwilling to leave just yet with Effie still unconscious. He suspected Geordie and Alick would escort Edith and him home to Buchanan to help him make sure she arrived there safely, but then would return until Rory was ready to give up on the old maid and leave.

When the door closed softly, he glanced around to see that Geordie and Alick had left. As Rory walked back toward him, Niels asked, “Should I be making broth to dribble down her throat?”

“Nay. Wait and see if she wakes up come morning,” Rory said. “There is naught to do fer now . . . except perhaps to clean her up.”

“Clean her up?” Niels asked with bewilderment, turning to peer at Edith’s pale but clean face. He’d washed away the mess as he’d waited for Rory to reach the room. Edith was clean.

“She was naked and uncovered on the linens when I came in earlier,” Rory reminded him.

“Aye?” Niels said with bewilderment. Not understanding what that had to do with anything.

“Well, her legs were no’ quite closed and I noticed she has what appears to be preserves seeping out from between her legs. Ye may want to clean that up so she does no’ wake up and find her thighs stuck together with the sticky mess,” he said as if he was talking about the time of day. Giving up his insouciance then, he asked, “It was on ye too when I entered. What the devil were the two o’ ye doing up here to get preserves on her quoniam?”

Niels merely shook his head and moved to fetch the basin and damp linen from the table to wash the preserves away. This wasn’t how he’d imagined removing it when Edith had mentioned that she’d applied it. But then nothing about his wedding night had gone as he’d planned.

Edith woke to loud snoring and something heavy across her chest. Opening her eyes, she looked around with confusion, only to still as her gaze landed on Niels. He lay on top of the linens and furs in only his shirt and boots, while she was naked beneath the warm bed coverings.

She stared at him for a moment as the memories of the night before slid over her, and then grimaced and closed her eyes again, quite sure she simply could not face the day ahead. Or at least her husband. Dear God, her efforts to please him had ended in a miserable failure, and the poor man must now wonder if marrying her had not been a huge mistake.

Another snore sounded beside her and Edith opened her eyes to survey the room as it occurred to her that if she continued to lay there she would definitely have to face Niels sooner rather than later. Whereas, if she got up and found some chore to attend somewhere else, like say down in the village, well, she might be able to avoid the humiliation of having to face him for hours. Perhaps even until the sup.

That thought was enough to have her sliding sideways in the bed, easing her way out from under his arm and hand. Niels stirred only once during this operation and Edith froze and waited a heartbeat until he issued another snore, and then continued sideways until she was free to sit up and get out of bed.

Hurrying to her chest, she took the first gown she touched, and tugged it on over her head as she rushed to the door. Edith eased it open, and then slipped out. She was careful to pull it silently closed, and then began to walk away before bothering to do up the laces.

“M’lady!”

Edith stopped abruptly and glanced around to see her maid rushing toward her.

“What are ye doing up, m’lady?” the girl asked with exasperation, grabbing her arm and turning her back toward the room. “Ye should still be abed. Ye were very sick last night. Ye nearly died . . . again,” she added on an irritated note.

“I am fine,” Edith assured her, digging her heels in as the girl tried to drag her back to the room she’d just escaped. “’Twas just a bit o’ a stomach upset. But I feel fine this morning,” she assured her maid, tugging her arm free.

“Stomach upset?” Moibeal asked with amazement and then shook her head. “Nay. ’Twas poison again, m’lady. Did yer lord husband no’ tell ye?”

The maid sounded vexed that Niels had failed to impart such important information, so despite her shock at yet again being poisoned, she said faintly, “Nay, he is still sleeping.”

Moibeal blinked and, just like that, the irritation at the man turned instantly to compassion for him. “Oh, aye, and no doubt. The poor man was up most o’ the night watching over ye,” she said sympathetically. “He was still pacing about at dawn when I came to yer room to check on ye. He looked exhausted then and I said as how he should lay down, that ye’d surely rouse him when ye woke up.” She scowled at Edith now. “Which ye obviously did no’ do, so ye can just turn around and march back in there and—”

“Nay!” Edith snapped, tugging her arm free when the girl tried to strong-arm her back the way she’d come. “If he is exhausted I should let him rest,” she added less sharply, and was relieved to see the words make the maid pause. Hoping to distract her further, she asked, “Are ye sure ’twas poison? My stomach was bothering me at the sup, but I thought it just nerves about the bedding to come,” she admitted.

“Oh, nay, ’twas no’ nerves,” Moibeal assured her. Frowning as she noted that Edith’s laces were undone, the maid began to untangle them as she explained. “They sorted out that it was poison in yer mead. They figure the killer must have dosed the cask in yer room when they were in there shooting arrows at ye.”

“’Twas only one arrow,” Edith muttered.

Ignoring that, Moibeal added, “And Lord Rory said ’twas just a good thing ye only had a couple sips at sup, as he thinks the killer has changed the poison and increased the dosage in the hopes o’ finishing ye off. He thinks if ye’d had more than a couple sips, ye’d ha’e died ere ye could bring it back up. ’Tis lucky ye’ve such a sensitive stomach and puked it all out.”

“That is debatable,” Edith said under her breath, recalling the event. If she’d been truly lucky, she would have done it after pleasuring Niels, not all over him in the middle of it.

Ignoring that as well, the maid said quietly, “This latest attempt upset Lord Niels something fierce, and he said as how he plans to take ye away from here today when ye wake.”

“Away?” Edith asked with surprise. “To where?”

“To Buchanan,” she said solemnly. “’Tis obvious he cares fer ye and wants ye safe . . . and so do I, m’lady,” she added quietly.

Edith frowned. “But Brodie is no’ back yet.”

“Not yet,” Moibeal agreed mildly. “But Tormod sent men out yesterday after the incident with the arrow. Each carried a message from him about what has been happening here, telling him that ’twas no’ illness but murder, and asking him to return.”

Edith bit her lip at this news, wondering why no one had bothered to mention it to her. She supposed what with the unexpected wedding and everything it might have been forgotten. On the other hand, it didn’t really matter anyway. She wasn’t at all sure Brodie would be any more likely to return if he knew there was a murderer here at Drummond killing off members of their family than he had been willing to stay when he’d thought it just illness.

“There, ’tis done,” Moibeal said quietly, finishing with her laces and stepping away.

“Thank ye,” Edith murmured and turned back to continue toward the stairs.

Her maid sighed at once and followed. “Ye ken if yer lord husband wishes to leave today, we need to pack yer chests and—”

“We’ll worry about that when he wakes up,” Edith interrupted. “If he was up all night fretting over me, he needs his sleep.”

“Besides which, yer thinking o’ refusing to go, are ye no’?” Moibeal asked dryly, and then pointed out, “But he’s yer husband now, and ye ken the choice is no longer yers.”

Edith stopped walking and turned to stare at her. “What?”

“I feared ye had no’ thought on that,” Moibeal said with a sigh, and then straightened her shoulders and said, “Me lady, yer father was as kind and indulgent with ye as he was with Brodie. He let ye run the keep as ye wished, and allowed ye to visit Lady Saidh and Jo as the mood struck ye, but—”

“Are ye suggesting I’m as spoiled as Brodie?” Edith interrupted with dismay.

“Nay,” Moibeal said at once. “Ye’ve always been a hard worker and concerned with the welfare o’ the people here, while Brodie cared only fer himself and his pleasure. But yer father gave ye freedoms many women do no’ have,” she added solemnly. “If ye did no’ wish to do something or go somewhere, he did no’ make ye. But he could have. It was his right . . . and now ’tis yer lord husband’s right. If he wishes ye to go to Buchanan, ye’ve no choice but to go.”

Edith narrowed her eyes at those words, knowing they were true, but not pleased by them. Giving an annoyed “hrrmph,” she turned to continue on to the stairs, her mind racing with ideas of how to get her own way and stay until Brodie returned. She was halfway down the stairs to the great hall when it occurred to her that thinking that way might be more like her brother than she’d like to admit.

The idea brought her up short, but then her mind immediately rejected that suggestion. Her brother would not have cared about the wellbeing of the people here, and that’s the reason she was wanting to stay until Brodie returned. It wasn’t for herself, she pointed out and released a relieved sigh and started walking again.

“Yer up. How do ye feel?”

Edith looked up at that comment and forced a smile when she saw Rory approaching from the kitchens. It wasn’t that she wasn’t happy to see him . . . but she wasn’t. She was afraid that, knowing that Niels wanted to take her away from Buchanan today, the man might go wake his brother, and she wasn’t ready for that. She needed a plan to avoid having to follow through with her husband’s plan.

“I feel fine, m’lord. Thank ye,” Edith murmured.

“Please, call me Rory,” he said with amusement. “We are family now.”

She blinked in surprise at that. Silly as it seemed, it hadn’t occurred to her that marrying Niels meant she now had six new brothers. And Saidh was her sister now, at least in law, she realized and beamed at the man. “Thank ye, Rory. And ye must call me Edith.”

He smiled and nodded, and then glanced toward the stairs. “Where is Niels?”

Edith hesitated, but then took a deep breath and said, “He is sleeping, and I thought it best to let him rest since he was apparently up most o’ the night worrying over me.”

“Aye, he was, but . . .” Rory looked toward the stairs again and then to Moibeal. When his eyes narrowed on her maid, Edith noted the disapproval on the girl’s face. Apparently, he had no trouble sorting out what might be behind that disapproval, because when he finally turned his gaze back to her, he said solemnly, “I’m guessing Moibeal mentioned that Niels wants to take ye away to Buchanan today.”

Edith hesitated, trying to marshal a sensible argument for why they shouldn’t do that.

Before she could, Rory continued, “And I ken that must be frightening.”

She blinked at the suggestion.

“Leaving the home ye’ve always known fer a new one full o’ strangers is no doubt a daunting prospect,” he said solemnly, “But ’tis fer the best. ‘Twill be safer fer ye, as well as the people here.”

“The people here?” Edith asked with surprise.

“Well, we’ve been fortunate so far. At least somewhat. Moibeal survived the poison meant fer ye, and is healthy and well again. Effie I begin to think will no’ survive, however, but at least we got lucky yesterday and no one was behind ye when ye bent over and the arrow sailed past ye missing its mark. Had Niels or Tormod or anyone else been behind ye, they may have taken the arrow in yer stead. Even Ronson could have if ye’d picked him up on the saddle with ye, or if the shooter’s aim had been off.”

Edith was sagging under the realization that he was right, when Rory added, “And then there is last eve’s mead incident.”

She glanced at him sharply. “What of it? No one else drank it, did they?”

“Nay. But we almost did. Geordie fetched it right after the arrow incident and was going to pour each o’ us some when ye went above stairs to clean up. But Tormod said he’d rather have ale, and the rest o’ us thought that sounded fine and we’d leave the mead fer you. Had we no’ done that, Geordie, Alick, Tormod, Niels and I would all probably be dead now.”

“Dear God,” Edith breathed, dropping to sit on the bench at the table.

“Aye,” Rory said grimly. “We got lucky. Next time we may not. ‘Twill be safer fer everyone once Niels gets ye away from here. It may even help reveal the killer.”

Blinking at that, she glanced up. “How?”

“Well, if they are determined to finish what they’ve started and kill ye too, they’d have to follow ye to Buchanan,” he pointed out. “They’d reveal themselves did they do that.”

“Oh, aye,” Edith breathed and shook her head. Yesterday, she’d argued to Moibeal that leaving Drummond wouldn’t leave her any safer since the killer could follow. Now Rory had turned that argument against her. If the killer followed, they’d surely be recognized as the killer. And if she stayed, she could be putting others at risk.

Edith couldn’t believe that hadn’t occurred to her. Or perhaps she could, because while she hadn’t realized it before Rory had suggested it, she was anxious about leaving Drummond. It had been her home all her life. It was the only home she knew, and these were her people. She’d grown up with them around her and couldn’t imagine her life without them. But she would have to. All girls had to grow up, marry and move away from the people they loved. Well, not all she supposed, thinking of Murine. She now lived in her childhood home with her husband, Dougall, but few women got that lucky.

“Well,” Moibeal said brightly. “Then I suppose I should go up and start in packing fer the trip.”

“I had best go wake my husband first,” Edith said on a sigh and stood.

“Nay,” Rory said at once. When Edith glanced to him with surprise, he grimaced and said, “Niels can be a bit hard to wake in the mornings and cantankerous when he’s tired. I shall stop in and wake him on my way to feed Effie some more soup. The two o’ ye can go up and start packing once he comes down. That way ye can break yer fast while ye wait,” he added, and then cautioned. “Only eat what yer cook says is safe. And make sure they open a fresh cask o’ whatever ye want to drink.”

“Aye,” Edith muttered, but as she watched Rory turn to head above stairs, she thought it might be better did she simply not eat or drink anything until they’d left. She was sick of being sick.

Niels woke to a loud crash and lunged upward in bed, glancing wildly to Edith, only to find she was no longer beside him. Turning his gaze around the room in search of her, he found his brother Rory instead. The man was leaning against the closed door, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Where’s Edith?” Niels growled by way of greeting, and Rory pushed himself away from the door with a smile and started across the room.

“She’s below, waiting fer ye to wake up so that she and her maid can start packing.”

“Packing?” he asked with surprise.

“Aye. Her maid told her ye planned to take her to Buchanan and I convinced her it was fer the best.”

“Ye did?” Niels asked with surprise. Last night as they’d sat by the bed, he’d mentioned his worries that Edith would argue leaving or even refuse, but he hadn’t expected his brother to intervene.

“Aye,” Rory said sounding pretty pleased with himself. “And then I helped ye further by convincing her to let me wake ye when she said she would.”

“How was that helping me?” he asked with bewilderment.

“Because I’m quite sure had she come up here to wake ye, the two o’ ye would have ended up rolling around in bed all day and not left until tomorrow,” he said dryly.

Niels stilled at the suggestion, his mind captured by the idea. They hadn’t yet even consummated the wedding, he realized. Technically, that meant they were not even married, did it not? He wasn’t sure, but really, should they take the risk? After all, if they encountered Brodie before consummating, he might be able to have the marriage annulled or something. Nodding, he began, “Mayhap—”

“Nay,” Rory said firmly.

“Nay, what?” Niels asked with surprise. “I have no’ said anything yet.”

“Ye were about to point out that the wedding was no’ consummated and suggest that ye should stay another day so ye could see to it,” Rory said without a lick of doubt. “Ye probably e’en managed to put together some argument that her brother may have the wedding called invalid did ye encounter him before ye consummated it.”

“Damn, brother, ye ken me well,” Niels said with amusement.

“Aye,” Rory agreed. “And I ken that ye’d never forgive yerself did ye stay that extra day and end up widowed all fer a chance to swive yer wife.”

“Aye, I would,” Niels agreed unhappily, and tossed the linens and furs aside to get out of bed.

“Besides, Brodie could no’ prove the marriage was no’ consummated,” Rory commented suddenly.

Niels snorted at the suggestion as he grabbed his shirt off the floor and pulled it on. Once his head cleared the collar, he said, “I think the fact that she was poisoned and sick as can be would probably give that away.”

“Aye, but the bedsheet suggests she may have been sick after the consummation. Or that the wedding was consummated this morn ere getting up,” Rory pointed out and Niels turned to peer at the bed, his eyes widening when he saw the dried red-brown stain on the bottom linen. It was from the preserves Edith had smeared on herself thanks to the advice of the unknown Magda, but it did look like blood. A slow smile claimed his lips.

“I’ll take it and hang it over the banister while ye pleat yer plaid, shall I?” Rory asked, moving toward the bed.

Niels started to nod, but then frowned and asked, “What if someone investigates and realizes ’tis just preserves?”

Rory paused and then relaxed and said, “I’ll only leave it up until the nooning meal and then take it down and burn it. That way all will see it, but Brodie’ll no’ be able to examine it when he returns.”

“Good,” Niels said, looking around now for his tartan. “Thank ye.”

“Me pleasure, brother,” Rory said lightly, stripping the stained linen off the bed. “I’m always happy to aid in the course o’ true love.”

Niels glanced to him sharply. “Love? I do no’ love Edith. I like her, but that is it.”

Rory gave him a pitying look as he straightened with the linen in hand. “Sometimes, Niels, I swear ye’re a dolt with naught in yer head but boiled brains . . . and this is one o’ those times if ye truly believe ye do no’ love the lass. The way ye were fretting over her last night made it pretty clear to one and all that ye love her.”

“One and all?” Niels asked with wide eyes. “How would one and all ken anything? Only ye, Tormod, Geordie and Alick were up here.”

Rory’s eyebrows rose. “Do ye truly no’ recall running to the top o’ the stairs in a panic, wearing naught but yer boots and puke and bellowing like a wounded bear fer us to come quick, that yer Edith was stricken?”

“Oh,” Niels muttered, vaguely recalling that now.

“Aye, oh,” Rory said dryly. “Trust me, everyone in this keep is now convinced ye love their lady. You are the only one who apparently does no’ realize it yet.”

On that note, he turned and carried the linen out, leaving Niels to pleat his plaid and ponder the fact that he might just love his wife. Dear God, how had that happened?

“Hmm.”

Edith glanced to Moibeal at that comment. The maid had sat down to discuss what all they would have to pack for the journey as Edith broke her fast. Both women had quickly realized that it was going to be a much larger endeavor than they’d thought. Aside from her chests of clothes, Edith had two chests of linens and such that her mother had started when she was but a babe. She’d said they were for her to take with her when she married. There was also her bow and arrow and countless other personal items that would need to be packed.

“What?” Edith asked Moibeal with curiosity when the woman didn’t comment further.

“It appears yer husband is awake, or at least out o’ bed,” Moibeal said with amusement, nodding toward the stairs.

Edith turned to follow her gaze, expecting to see her husband coming down the stairs. Instead her eye was caught on the huge strip of white linen Rory was hanging over the upper bannister. Her jaw dropped as her gaze zeroed in on the huge dark stain in the center.

“And here I worried that what with ye being ill and all, ye had no’ consummated the wedding,” Moibeal commented, and then added, “At least we needn’t worry Brodie could have the wedding voided should he arrive before we leave.”

Edith merely stared at the sheet. As far as she could recall, they hadn’t consummated the marriage. But that definitely looked like blood on the sheet. Perhaps Niels had worried that Brodie might annul the marriage if given the chance and had consummated her while she was unconscious to ensure that didn’t happen. Her gaze dropped to her lap at that thought and she simply sat for a moment, trying to see if she felt any different down there.

Nope, Edith decided finally. She didn’t feel different at all . . . which was kind of disappointing. She really would have expected to feel different somehow, although she wasn’t sure how or even why she’d have thought that. His kissing her and thrusting his tongue into her mouth hadn’t left her mouth feeling different afterward. But then there was no maidenhead in her mouth to bleed, and judging by the amount of blood on the linen, the breaching had not been a small thing. Edith almost wondered if she shouldn’t find some blood moss and change into the dark red gown she usually wore during her menarche to minimize visual signs of bloodstains. If she was still bleeding . . .

Standing abruptly, Edith headed for the stairs, intent on checking on the issue, but paused at the bottom of the stairs when Niels appeared at the top and started down. Embarrassed and shy, Edith ducked her head and started up, but paused when Niels drew even with her and caught her arm.

“Good morning, wife,” he murmured, bending to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Good morning, husband,” Edith whispered. Flustered, she glanced up and then away when she saw he was eyeing her oddly.

“Where are ye going?” he asked.

Edith opened her mouth, and then immediately closed it, not comfortable discussing her body’s needs with him yet, but then said, “To pack.”

“Ah.” He smiled and squeezed her arm. “Just pack a couple gowns for now. Geordie and Alick are returning after seeing us to Buchanan to collect Rory and have agreed to bring a cart to bring back Ronson, his grandmother, Laddie and anything else ye need from Drummond.”

Edith forgot all about her possibly still bleeding at that and glanced up with surprise. “Ronson and his grandmother?”

“Well if Bessie is willing,” Niels said wryly. “I thought you might like them to come to Buchanan with us. Was I wrong?”

“Nay. That would be wonderful, husband,” she assured him quickly, a smile curving her lips. “I was worrying what might become of them after I left. Victoria does no’ care for either o’ them.”

He smiled. “Then if his grandmother is willing, Geordie and Alick will bring them. They’ll bring anything else ye might need too.” Niels frowned briefly, and then added, “Although it might be best do ye leave Moibeal here until then. She can tell me brothers what all ye want brought. That way, they’ll no’ accidentally leave anything behind.” He hesitated and then added, “If ye can do without yer maid fer a week or—”

“Oh, aye,” Edith interrupted him quickly. A week without a maid was little enough to give up in exchange for making sure nothing was left behind.

“Good. Then go pack a few gowns and essentials and we’ll leave as soon as ye’re ready,” he suggested.

“Aye, m’lord, husband,” Edith said and turned to go, but then paused and swung back to throw her arms around his neck and press a quick, enthusiastic kiss to his lips. “Thank ye, husband,” she said happily as she then withdrew her arms, but he stopped her by slipping his arms around her waist and holding her close.

“That is no’ much o’ a thank ye kiss, wife,” Niels murmured, his voice growing husky. “We can do better than that, do ye no’ think?”

“Aye,” Edith whispered and closed her eyes as his face lowered and he claimed her mouth. When one of his hands rose to cup the back of her head and tilt it to a better angle as his tongue slid out to caress her lips, Edith opened to him and moaned into his mouth as he deepened the kiss. That was all it took for her body to come alive with excitement and ache with need. She could feel the hardness growing between them and pressing against her belly, so wasn’t at all surprised when Niels suddenly scooped her up into his arms and started up the stairs without breaking their kiss. She was even looking forward to his assuaging the ache he’d created, so was startled when he suddenly broke the kiss and stopped walking.

Peering up at his face, she saw that he was staring past her looking slightly vexed. Edith turned to see that Rory now stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow raised.

Sighing, Niels set Edith down on the step above him. He held her briefly until he was sure she had her footing and then urged her up the stairs saying, “Go pack. I’ll send Moibeal to ye so ye can tell her the plans, and then I’ll go find Geordie and Alick and let them ken we’re leaving soon.”

Hiding her disappointment, Edith nodded and continued up the stairs alone.