“Where the devil are they?” Niels muttered, walking to the door and opening it to peer up the hall. There was still no sign of Edith and Ronson.
Sighing, he closed the door and crossed back to the bed, scowling when he saw Alick poking the needle again into Bessie—or Ealasaid. He was no’ sure what to call her. Her true name was Ealasaid, but Edith refused to call her that and would refer to her only as Bessie. He suspected part of the reason was because she did not wish to slip up and confuse Ronson, but suspected too that she wished to deny the woman had any connection to her.
“Alick, fer the love o’ St. Peter, stop poking the woman with that damned needle. Ye heard Rory. She’s dead,” Niels growled when the younger man stuck it into Bessie’s still body again.
“How can we be sure?” Alick asked stubbornly. “Ye heard Edith. Even after kenning ye were back here telling us that she was the culprit, she lunged at her with the knife.”
“Aye, but—”
“And she’s fair knowledgeable about weeds,” Alick continued grimly. “What if what she took was something just to make her appear to be dead and she’s really alive and sleeping? Mayhap she’s just waiting fer us to let down our guard and leave the room so she can rise up, use the passages to go below and poison the well so that all at Drummond die and she can claim it fer her own.”
Niels hesitated, and then glanced at Geordie, not at all reassured when he saw the same sudden uncertainty in his brother’s eyes that he knew was in his own.
Cursing under his breath, Geordie pulled his dirk, crossed quickly to the bed and plunged it firmly into Bessie’s body where her heart would be. If she actually had one, Niels thought grimly. It was hard to tell from her actions.
“There,” Geordie said with satisfaction. “If she was no’ before, she’s definitely dead now.”
“Aye,” Niels muttered, and then reached down quickly to tug the linens up to cover the knife in Bessie’s body as the door opened behind them.
“Here we are, Ronson. Ye just come say yer goodbyes to yer grandmother now and then Geordie and Alick will sit with the body until burial.”
Frowning, Niels turned at those comments in his brother Rory’s voice and asked, “Where is Edith? I thought she was bringing Ronson.”
“Aye, she was, but then she asked me to do it and to send ye to her,” Rory explained, ushering Ronson to the bed. “I believe she’s waiting fer ye in yer—What the devil is that?”
Frowning, Niels turned to see that the linen hadn’t hidden the knife very well at all and it was obvious what was poking up out of Bessie’s chest. Fortunately, Rory had his hands over Ronson’s eyes as he scowled at Geordie and Alick and mouthed, “Get it out.”
“Well, we had to be sure,” Alick muttered as Geordie grimaced, pulled the linens aside and tugged his knife out of the woman’s chest.
“I told ye she was—” Rory frowned down at Ronson, and then mouthed, “dead.”
“Aye, but ye said Effie was unconscious too and she was no’,” Alick pointed out.
Rory’s eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth looking ready to blast their younger brother, but Niels lost his patience at that point and snapped, “Where is she waiting?”
“Who?” Rory asked, even as Geordie muttered, “She’s probably no’ waiting at all, but went straight to—” Pausing to glance worriedly at Ronson, he merely pointed down at the floor.
Presumably to indicate that Bessie had gone straight to hell, Niels supposed and scowled at him. “I meant me wife.”
“Oh, well ye’ll have to ask Rory that then,” Geordie said, wiping his blade clean as he moved away from the bed.
“I was,” Niels snapped and then turned to see Rory grinning at him. Eyes narrowing, he asked, “What?”
“’Tis just so nice to see ye so happy and in love,” he said with amusement.
Niels glowered at him and then turned and strode to the door, muttering, “I’ll find her meself.”
“Try the bedchamber first,” Rory suggested, and before Niels closed the door, added, “The old laird’s chamber.”
Eyebrows rising at that last part, Niels strode down the hall to the last door and then thrust it open and stepped inside . . . and immediately froze. The room had been cleaned and completely transformed. All the old laird’s personal items had been moved out and his and Edith’s moved in. Aside from that, the old bed curtains had been removed and replaced with new ones and colorful tapestries hung on the wall. But the room was empty. At least he thought it was until his gaze reached the fire and he saw Edith curled up on a large fur in front of the hearth as naked as she’d come into the world.
Niels kicked the door closed with one foot and then strode quickly across the floor, shedding his tartan and tugging off his shirt as he went.
Edith watched him, her eyes growing wide. But the moment he stepped onto the furs and started to swoop down at her, she was off them and backing away.
“Where are ye going?” Niels asked with surprise, straightening to peer at her.
“I wanted to talk first, m’laird,” Edith explained, backing away as he started forward.
“Wife, ye do no’ need to be naked to talk,” he informed her, stalking her like a wolf after prey. “In fact, ’tis more detrimental to talking than helpful.”
“I ken, but I . . . I just want to tell ye . . .” She paused and glanced around and down with a frown as she tripped over one of the rush mats.
“Tell me what?” Niels asked, swooping in to catch her while she was distracted and pull her into his arms.
Sighing, Edith braced her hands against his chest and said, “This is important.”
“Talk,” he suggested, bending his head to nibble at her ear.
“I . . . I want to please ye,” Edith breathed as his lips ran down her neck.
“Ye do,” Niels muttered against her skin.
“Aye but I—I’d throw meself between you and an arrow to save yer life,” she said, the words ending on a moan as he cupped and clasped her breasts.
“I would no’ let ye,” he assured her.
“Aye, but I would, and I’d throw meself between ye and a bear too. I—Oh, I should have kept me clothes on until after,” Edith muttered, sounding vexed. “This is hard.”
“That’s what ye do to me,” he muttered, grinding his hardness against her.
“I’m trying to tell ye I love ye,” Edith groaned and Niels froze.
Lifting his head, he peered at her solemnly. “What?”
Edith took a moment to clear her mind and then nodded solemnly. “I love ye, Niels. I realized it when I was in the woods with Bessie. She said love is wanting to please another, and caring fer their well-being more than yer own.”
Niels grimaced. “’Tis rather disturbing that ye’re taking advice on love from a woman who killed fourteen people and hurt so many others.”
“Aye, I ken,” she admitted wryly. “But if it makes ye feel better, she said her mother said it.”
“Hmm,” he murmured and decided that perhaps that made it more palatable, especially if it had led to Edith telling him she loved him. Cupping her face between his hands, he peered into her eyes and said, “I love ye too, Edith. I would no’ have thought it possible to come to love someone so quickly, but ye . . .”
He paused, grasping for the words to express how he felt and then sighed and admitted, “I do no’ ken how or when it happened, but ye’ve pushed yer way into me heart and made a place fer yerself there. And yer so firmly entrenched, I can no’ recall life ere ye arrived in it, and can no’ imagine life without ye at me side.”
“Oh my,” Edith breathed.
Smiling, Niels added, “But I’d no’ let ye take an arrow fer me, and I’d definitely never let ye get between me and a bear, because I feel the exact same way about you.”
Edith smiled and caressed his cheek gently. “Remind me to write Saidh and thank her.”
“All right,” Niels said slowly, a little confused by the abrupt change of subject, and then he tilted his head and asked with curiosity, “What do ye need to thank her for?”
“For you,” she said solemnly. “Her sending ye to check on me was the greatest gift o’ me life.”
*Swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, Niels scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. But the whole way he was thinking that perhaps he’d write his sister a “thank ye” too. Because Edith was a gift to him as well, one he would enjoy unwrapping all the days of his life.