“M’lady?”

Edith stopped pressing on the stones in the wall behind the loo bench and glanced toward the garderobe door with a frown. “Moibeal?”

“Aye, m’lady,” her maid said, her tone wry. “Cameron fetched me over to see that ye were all right. It seems ye’ve been in there awhile and they were beginning to worry.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be out directly,” she called with exasperation and then peered at the wall again and sighed. She’d pressed every stone on the garderobe’s back wall and as far as she could tell nothing had happened. There was no click, not even a breath of sound, and certainly no hidden door slid inward to reveal the entrance to the passage from here. Neither had that happened in the first two garderobes. This was the third and last one she’d checked since leaving her husband and the others to search the bedchambers and passages above as Cameron and Fearghas escorted her below stairs.

Now, she eyed the wall and considered that there was probably more of a trick to the entrance in the garderobe than just pushing a stone. Otherwise, with so many people using it, anyone could accidentally lean against the correct stone and discover the hidden door.

But what would the trick be? she wondered, reaching out to try to turn a stone rather than push it.

“M’lady?”

“I’m coming!” Edith called with exasperation. Stepping down off the bench, she walked to the door and pushed it open. Despite being happy to escape the stench of the garderobes, she scowled at Cameron, Fearghas and Moibeal as she stepped out, and then focused on her maid and asked, “What?”

“I was just going to ask ye if ye wished me to fetch one o’ yer tonics,” Moibeal said patiently. “The men said as how ye’ve stopped at every garderobe since coming below, spending an awful lot o’ time in each, yet were immediately stopping at the next, so I thought mayhap ye had the flux and—”

“Nay, I’m fine,” Edith said, flushing as she realized how her behavior had been interpreted by her guards. Shaking her head, she stepped around the trio and headed for the kitchens, muttering, “I need to have a word with Jaimie.”

She wasn’t at all surprised when all three trailed after her. The men had to, and it wasn’t as if Moibeal had anything better to do at the moment. No doubt the guards had stopped her at the landing and refused to allow her to go clean the bedchamber as she normally would.

“Halt.”

Edith glanced up with surprise and eyed the man who had stepped in front of her as she approached the kitchen door. Two new soldiers were guarding it today, she saw, her gaze sliding from the stern face of the man before her to his wincing partner still by the door.

“Move, Sholto,” Cameron growled before Edith could speak. “Yer lady wants to enter the kitchens to speak to Jaimie.”

“Tormod ordered us no’ to let anyone pass,” the man said firmly.

“Well, yer lady trumps Tormod,” Fearghas said impatiently. “So move.”

“Sholto,” the second man said worriedly. “Mayhap ye should—”

“Shut up, Roy. I have this,” Sholto snapped, and then propped his hands on his hips and scowled at the lot of them. “I have me orders and—”

“Sholto,” Edith interrupted pleasantly.

Snapping his mouth shut, he eyed her warily. “Aye?”

“I am lady here. Tormod works fer me. Which means you work fer me. I want ye to move out o’ the way.” When he scowled and looked like he might refuse, Edith added, “And I suggest ye do it now or I’ll tell yer wife ye were messing with the ale wench and I had to treat ye fer the drip.”

“Ye mean the clap?” Moibeal gasped as Sholto paled and jumped to the side.

“Hmm,” Edith muttered, leading the way into the kitchens now that her path was clear. She did hate that name for the ailment. It just reminded her of what often had to be done for it. Quite frequently, the patient’s fiddle got clogged up with the discharge dripping out of it. When that happened, her mother had said one must clap it hard with your hands from both sides to try to unclog it. She’d also said, though, that a hand and a book might be used instead.

Sholto was such an annoying character, however, that Edith had used two books. The man had howled endlessly afterward. She doubted very much if he’d be visiting the ale wench again anytime soon. Come to think of it, he probably wouldn’t come back to her with any healing needs either, she acknowledged with a grin as she glanced around the kitchen for the cook.

“He’s no’ here,” Moibeal said with surprise as they surveyed the almost empty kitchen. Honestly, four people were like a drop of water in a bucket in this huge room.

“I’ll ask one o’ the maids where he is,” Fearghas murmured and hurried off to do so.

Edith watched him go, but then found her gaze sliding to the back of the room as a memory of Cawley lying bleeding on the floor flashed through her mind. Her gaze slid over the large rush mat now lying where he had been and it didn’t take a lot of hard thinking to work out that it was covering the stain his blood had left behind. Cleaning it out of the cracks and crevices of the stone would have been impossible.

“M’lady?”

Edith blinked and looked around at Moibeal’s voice, startled to find that in her distracted state she’d crossed the room and now stood staring down at the mat where Cawley’s body had been. “Aye?”

“Fearghas says Jaimie is out in the gardens picking some herbs,” the maid told her gently.

Nodding Edith, peered back at the rush mat, and then at the barrel behind it. That would have been where Cawley had been sitting when he was stabbed, she thought, and then shifted her attention to the door next to it. The pantry. Tormod had told them that there was another hidden entrance in there, she recalled. If the killer had used it, they might not even have had to come out of the room to stab him. Just crack the door open and—

“M’lady?” Moibeal said gently.

“Aye,” Edith sighed, turning away. She would check the pantry later and see if she could find the hidden entrance. Or perhaps she’d just let Tormod show both her and Niels where it was later.

Heading for the back door out of the kitchens, she asked, “Out in the gardens, ye said?”

“Tormod said ye were no’ to leave the keep,” Cameron reminded her as he and Fearghas caught up to them.

“It is only the gardens, Cameron,” she said on a sigh. “There are no windows on this side of the building for anyone to shoot arrows at me from. ‘Twill be fine.”

“But—”

“I’ll just step outside the back door,” she said soothingly. “Ye can bring Jaimie to me. ’Tis far too hot in here to stand about waiting fer ye to find him. At least by the back door it will be cooler.”

Whether he would have argued the point or not, she didn’t know. They’d reached the back door and she was already pushing her way out.

“I’ll go fetch Jaimie,” Fearghas said, sounding annoyed as he hurried ahead of her.

“There,” Edith said cheerfully, ignoring the way Cameron was glaring at her. “Is this no’ nice?”

“Nicer than the flogging we’ll take fer letting ye out o’ the keep,” Cameron groused.

“We’ll only be a minute. Tormod will never ken,” she assured him. When he merely eyed her with disbelief, she raised one hand to her chest, the other to the air and said with amusement, “May God strike me down if I’m wrong in this.”

Cameron glanced upward as if expecting to see lightning hurtling down toward them, and then horror crossed his face and he threw himself at Edith and Moibeal.

Edith gasped in surprise as she was caught about the waist and propelled forward, and then grunted in pain as she crashed to the ground just as a loud thump sounded behind them. For one moment, she lay there on her stomach, almost certain lightning had struck, but then reason returned and Edith realized that what she’d heard behind her was the thud of something heavy hitting the ground, and not the crack of lightning.

“Are ye all right, m’lady?” Cameron asked anxiously, getting to his feet beside her.

“Aye,” Edith said, and peered past him to her maid. “Moibeal? Are ye all right?”

The maid rolled to her side and looked back at where they’d been, muttering, “Better than her.”

Frowning, Edith started to get up, but had only managed to get to her hands and knees before Cameron caught her under the arms and lifted her to her feet.

“Thank ye,” she murmured, brushing at her dress as she turned to see what had fallen. Who had fallen, Edith corrected herself as she stared at Effie’s twisted body on the ground at their feet. The woman had landed exactly where they’d been standing before Cameron had half thrust and half dragged them out of the way. She couldn’t have missed them by more than a hair, Edith thought with dismay, staring at her body.

“Oh, God’s breath, m’lady!”

Edith glanced around at that voice, and just managed to brace herself before Jaimie threw his thin body at her and hugged her tightly. Unfortunately, short as she was, he was shorter, and his head landed between her breasts. Fortunately, however, she didn’t have to say anything. As quickly as he did it the thin little man released her and jumped back flushing brightly.

“I’m so sorry, m’lady. I was just so overset. Ye were nearly killed. Again! Ye should have waited fer me inside,” he added, catching her arm and urging her around the body and back toward the door. “’Tis no’ safe fer ye to be out o’ the keep. Ye could have been killed. Again.”

“Aye, ’tis almost as if God Himself were trying to strike ye down,” Moibeal said under her breath.

Judging by the way Cameron’s lips twitched, he heard the maid say that, but merely turned to Fearghas and said with resignation, “Ye’d best go fetch Tormod and the new laird. They’ll need to hear about this.”

Nodding, the soldier opened the door, held it for them to enter and then followed them inside and hurried quickly past them to rush out of the kitchens.

“Fearghas said ye were wanting a word with me,” Jaimie was saying now. “Did ye want to break yer fast? Ye have no’ done that yet. I can make ye a fine—”

“Nay,” Edith interrupted. “Thank ye, but I wouldn’t want ye to take time out o’ yer day to cook fer me. I just wanted to be sure that Duer and Iain delivered the cheese and capons I bought.”

“Oh, aye, aye,” he assured her, grinning. “’Tis all here. The cheese is in the larder and the capons look mighty fine and plump. I’m roasting ’em up for tonight’s sup as soon as I finish gathering the herbs I need fer it.”

“Oh, lovely, that will be nice,” Edith murmured, patting his arm. “I should let ye get back to it then. That’s all I wanted.”

“Very well, m’lady. Now ye go sit down and try to settle yerself. Ye had a terrible scare there. I’ll bring ye something light to settle yer stomach. Ye just go sit down. And you,” Jaimie added sharply to Cameron, “keep an eye on her. We can no’ lose our Lady Edith now we have her as lady fer good.”

“I’m trying,” Cameron assured him, catching Edith’s arm and urging her along more swiftly. “But the lady can be stubborn.”

“Nonsense. Lady Edith is an angel,” Jaimie snapped as they reached the door. “And if ye let anything happen to her, it’ll be naught but turnips and gruel fer ye til the day ye die, Cameron Drummond, so watch her well.”

The soldier let the door close behind the three of them with a grimace, and pretty much marched Edith to the trestle tables.

“Sit,” he ordered, and then grimaced and added, “Please.”

Biting her lip to hold back her amusement, Edith sat, but she caught Moibeal’s arm and dragged her down with her.

“Yer going to give Cameron fits,” the maid said, glancing over her shoulder to eye the man as he began to pace back and forth behind them.

“Probably,” Edith acknowledged.

“He is ever so manly though when he gets bossy, is he no’?” Moibeal said next, and then added, “He reminds me o’ yer laird husband.”

“Really?” Edith asked with surprise.

“Aye. He’s so . . . commanding. I never really noticed how handsome he is before this,” the girl said on a sigh.

Edith raised her eyebrows. “Does Kenny have some competition?”

“Oh, Kenny!” The maid waved her hand with irritation.

“What?” Edith asked curiously.

“Well, after seeing how good and kind and considerate the laird is with ye, and hearing how he pleases ye in bed . . .” She grimaced and shrugged. “I’m thinking Kenny is no’ trying very hard. Mayhap he’s no’ the one fer me.”

“Ah,” Edith murmured, not wanting to say it, but glad the girl was thinking that way. She hadn’t thought much of Kenny and the way he treated Moibeal from the start. Turning, she glanced at Cameron consideringly and then nodded and turned back to say, “Well, I like Cameron. So ye have me blessing if yer interested in him.”

“I am,” Moibeal assured her on a little sigh. “Now if only he’d notice me.”

Edith shrugged. “Stay with me and he’ll have to take notice.”

“Dead.”

Niels grimaced at that announcement from Rory as he straightened from examining Effie where she’d fallen. He’d been able to tell that himself without even touching the woman. “Are all o’ her injuries from the fall, do ye think?”

“Aye,” Rory said. “I do no’ see any bruising or scratches to suggest she was injured ere falling from the wall.”

“Do ye think she heard us in the stairs, thought we were coming up, and jumped?” Geordie asked.

“That’d be my guess,” Tormod said grimly. “She must have kenned we’d have found her poisons and bow in the bedchamber and were on to her.”

“Her jumping was probably a last desperate effort to kill our lady and end herself as well.”

Niels turned at that sour comment to see the cook approaching with a large basket full of freshly picked herbs.

Nodding at him, Jaimie informed them, “She nearly landed on Lady Edith’s head, and surely would have killed her had Cameron no’ pushed her and Moibeal out o’ the way.” Heaving out a sigh, he shook his head and peered down at Effie’s broken body. “She must have been mad. All these killings . . . and fer what? No doubt she started out hoping to see her lady running Drummond as the lass wished, but instead she killed her too with her silly actions. She was probably just trying to kill Lady Edith out o’ spite once she learned she’d unintentionally killed her Victoria.”

“Aye,” Geordie and Tormod said, nodding solemnly.

Niels noticed that Rory wasn’t commenting, but was staring down at Effie, his expression troubled. “What are ye thinking, Rory?”

His brother hesitated, but then shook his head helplessly. “I do no’ ken what to think. Certainly what Jaimie says makes sense. Everything seems to suggest Effie was our culprit and killed herself rather than be caught. ’Tis sad really.”

Niels peered down at the woman again, and then up at the top of the wall. He frowned, but then simply turned and strode back into the kitchens and through. He needed to talk to Edith.

Pushing out into the great hall, Niels saw that his wife was still sitting whispering away with her maid at the table. Movement made him glance toward the fireplace where Ronson’s grandmother was warming her hands by the fire, and looked to be lecturing her grandson. Probably about how filthy he was, Niels thought with a small smile. It looked as if the boy had been rolling in dirt. Laddie was not much better, he noted as his gaze fell to the dog. The two needed another visit to the loch. And that seemed as good a place as any to have that talk with Edith.

Niels headed for the table and his wife.

“M’laird.”

Edith turned at that low murmur from Cameron, and smiled uncertainly at her husband as she saw him approaching. She couldn’t tell from his face whether he was angry with her for going out into the gardens or not. She couldn’t read his expression at all. His eyes were troubled, his mouth smiling, but his jaw tight with tension. It was most confusing.

“I think I’ll go clean up the bedchamber now that the men appear to be done up there,” Moibeal said, hopping up from the bench to make her escape.

Edith nodded, but the word coward floated through her head as the maid slipped away and she had to force her smile to widen for her husband’s benefit.

“Ronson and Laddie need another bath,” Niels announced abruptly once he reached her.

Edith stared at him blankly. Those were the very last words she’d expected to hear come out of his mouth as she’d watched him approach.

“Ronson!” Niels called, and Edith followed his gaze to the boy who was following his grandmother to her chair. The lad cast a hopeful glance their way at the call.

“Aye, m’laird?” he asked, hurrying toward them with Laddie on his heels.

“You and Laddie need another bath. How the devil did ye get so dirty?” he added with exasperation. “Ye’ve mud from yer shins to yer withers.”

“We were playing,” Ronson said as if that should explain everything.

“Well, go tell yer grandmother we’re going to the loch to clean the two o’ ye up,” Niels said, and then told Edith, “I’ll ready me horse. Ye may want to gather some linens and fresh clothes while I do.”

He was off heading for the keep doors before she could respond. Edith pursed her lips as she watched him go, and then stood and hurried above stairs, aware that Cameron and Fearghas were following.

Edith collected fresh clothes for herself and Niels, and linens for all three of them to dry off with, but she also grabbed soap and some furs as well. She rolled the furs and tied them with string while Moibeal stuffed everything else in a sack for her. She was hurrying back downstairs in no time.

Cameron and Fearghas both offered to carry the items for her as they followed her from their position where they’d waited outside the bedchamber, but Edith just shook her head and kept going. She was glad she had when Tormod called the two men to him as they hurried down the stairs. Cameron and Fearghas slowed and looked to her, but she waved them on.

“Go ahead. I’ll just go peek out the doors and see if me husband is ready yet.”

Nodding, the men rushed toward Tormod as they hit the bottom of the steps, and Edith turned to hurry to the keep doors. Hefting the sack over her shoulder, she pushed one door open and peered out, her eyebrows rising when she saw Niels coming up the stairs, a shield in hand. His horse was at the foot of the stairs with Laddie lying beside it in the dirt, and Ronson standing in front, holding the reins.

“Where are yer guards?” Niels asked when she pushed out of the keep with her items.

“Tormod called them over to the table. I said I’d just look and see if ye were ready.”

Niels nodded, and then took the rolled furs from her, tucked it under his arm and grabbed the sack as well. Raising the shield over her head, he said, “Come on. We’ll go without them this time. I want to talk.”

He ushered her quickly down the stairs, handed her the shield to hold over her own head and then lifted her up onto the saddle. Edith almost tried to sit sidesaddle, but at the last moment thumbed her nose at propriety and shifted her legs so that she landed astride. Niels then quickly attached the sack and furs to his saddle before lifting Ronson up to sit in her lap. A moment after that he was in the saddle behind her and steering the horse out of the bailey.

“Ye can lower the shield now,” Niels said once they were beyond the wall.

Edith lowered it with relief and let it hang beside them so it rested against her leg. It had been awkward holding it up like that. It had kept bumping into Niels’s face. She’d tried to prevent it from happening, but bouncing around on the horse made it hard.

They didn’t talk on the way out to the loch. Niels had the horse moving at a speed that made that difficult, but Edith didn’t mind. She was enjoying the feeling of the cool wind in her hair and the heat of Niels’s body behind her. So much so that she was almost sorry when they arrived at the loch and had to dismount.

“I’ll set up the furs if ye want to get in the water,” Niels suggested as he set her on the ground.

Edith smiled faintly, but shook her head. She planned to swim with him and Ronson this time, not by herself constantly anxious that she might be seen in her chemise. She’d still wear her chemise since Ronson was with them, but wasn’t shy about her husband seeing her in it. She helped him unroll and lay out the furs, and then gathered the linens and fresh clothes and hung them from the branch she’d used last time.

Once done, Edith undid the ties of her gown and slid it off, surprised when Niels groaned behind her.

“Ah, lass,” he sighed, moving toward her. “Ye make it hard to think when ye do stuff like that.”

“Like what?” she asked on a breathless laugh as he slipped his arms around her from behind and pulled her back against his chest. Edith nestled against him briefly, enjoying the contact, but when his hands began to rise toward her breasts, she caught them and whispered, “Behave. Ronson is here.”

“Aye,” Niels sighed. Releasing her, he added dryly, “And I was fool enough to invite him too.”

Edith chuckled at the comment and started into the water.

It was much more fun swimming with Ronson and Niels than without, she decided as they splashed and played in the water. This time she got to enjoy it with them rather than listen to them have fun. She even enjoyed washing Laddie, despite his jumping on her and dunking her under the water twice. But eventually they had to get out.

“There ye are,” Edith said brightly as she followed Ronson out of the water. “Yer clean as a newborn babe now. That should please yer grandmother.”

“Thank goodness,” Ronson growled with childish annoyance. “I thought she’d fair have a fit when she came out o’ the garderobe and saw me.”

“The garderobe again?” Edith teased with amusement.

“Aye. I told ye, she’s always in there,” Ronson complained, accepting the linen Edith handed him and beginning to dry himself off. “She was heading in when she sent me out to play, and was just coming out when I came back in.”

Edith paused with the linen half-wrapped around herself and peered at the boy as he dropped the linen and donned the clean if worn clothes his grandmother had sent with him. His words replayed in her head as she watched him. But when Niels caught up to them, she started moving again and finished wrapping the linen around herself. Holding it in place with one hand, she left Niels to dry off and dress in his shirt and tartan and followed the boy to the furs, saying lightly, “Tell me about your grandmother, Ronson.”

He turned to look at her blankly, and then dropped onto the furs and asked, “Tell ye what about her?”

Edith hesitated, unsure herself what she was hoping to learn, but then suggested, “Tell me about yer life ere ye came to Drummond.”

She’d meant for him to tell her about his home ere coming to Drummond, but he misunderstood and told her about his more immediate life before arriving here. Grimacing unhappily, he said, “Well, we walked fer a long time. I thought me feet’d fall off we walked so long.”

“What about the other castles ye stopped at on the way?” Edith asked. Bessie had told her they’d stopped at every castle between here and their old home in northern England, but no one would take them in.

Ronson peered at her with bewilderment. “There were no other castles, m’lady. None I saw anyway. All there was on the way here were woods and more woods. We did no’ even pass anyone else traveling.”

“I see,” Edith murmured. Bessie had obviously lied. Either the castle they’d come from hadn’t been in the north of England as Bessie had said, or they’d stayed off the paths and trails to avoid running into others. That was possible and would have saved them getting robbed or attacked by bandits, but it would have been slower going and had its own dangers. They were lucky they’d avoided being attacked by wild wolves and bears on their way here.

“Do ye remember how many nights ye slept on the way here, Ronson?” she asked abruptly.

He paused and considered the question, and then shook his head. “Too many to count. Hundreds maybe.”

Edith seriously doubted it had been hundreds, but she also didn’t think the boy could count yet. Or if he could, he probably couldn’t count too high. But his answer told her they must have traveled a good distance.

“Winter had just ended when we started,” he added suddenly. “’Twas terrible cold still.”

Edith nodded and relaxed a little. Ronson and his grandmother had been traveling quite a while to get to Drummond. Perhaps even as much as a couple of months. That seemed a bit much, but . . . It was late July, however they’d arrived at Drummond in late May. If they started their journey at the end of March . . . She frowned, but supposed they could have been walking that long. Ronson had little legs and was young, his stride would have been much smaller and they would have had to travel much slower than two adults . . . and apparently they’d done so without stopping once at any of the castles or villages along the way.

Mouth tight, she asked, “What did ye eat on the way to Drummond?”

“Gran always went out and hunted up a rabbit or a bird after we stopped fer the day,” he said and then added proudly, “She’s a fair hand with the bow. So was me ma. Ma used to take me hunting with her. She promised me she’d teach me to use the bow just like Gran taught her, but then she died.” Ronson paused briefly, and then as Niels finished dressing and came to join them on the furs, the boy added sadly, “I miss me ma.”

“I imagine ye do,” Edith said, but asked, “What about the last castle ye lived at ere Drummond? Do ye remember that?”

“Aye.” He reached out to pet Laddie when the dog dropped onto the grass beside the furs and was silent for a minute, but then said, “It was okay. We had the nicest cottage in the village, Gran and Ma and me. But Ma was always having to go up to the castle cause the laird wanted her to work. It made Gran curse something awful when he sent his men fer her. She said he was a rapping bastard, or something.”

Edith’s eyebrows rose. “Do ye mean raping?”

“Aye.” Ronson’s brow cleared. “That was it. He was a raping bastard.”

Edith sat back briefly, and then asked, “What was yer mother’s name?”

“Wife,” Niels growled under his breath.

“Glynis,” Ronson said with a smile. “She was ever so pretty, m’lady. And she was no’ always off in the garderobe like Gran. She liked to play with me.” He frowned. “At least she did when she was no’ too sore.”

“Too sore?” she asked, ignoring the scowl Niels was directing at her.

“Aye. Ma was always falling down and bumping into things while working fer the lord and coming back sore and bruised. She could no’ play with me then,” he said sadly.

“Is that how she died?” Edith asked. “Falling down or bumping into something?”

“Aye, she fell off the cliff,” Ronson said unhappily. “’Twas terrible. She must no’ have realized how close she was. She just walked right off o’ it. I tried to warn her. I shouted and yelled and ran as fast as I could trying to catch up to warn her, but she did no’ hear me and I could no’ run fast enough.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Ronson,” Niels said gently, “But I’m sure she kens ye tried to warn her.”

The boy grunted, and began scratching Laddie behind the ear, making the dog’s leg start kicking in the air.

Edith watched silently for a minute and then asked, “Is that when ye left?”

“Wife,” Niels snapped now, obviously wanting her to stop asking these questions of the boy. Fortunately, Ronson answered anyway.

“Aye. The old laird came down and told Gran we had to leave,” he muttered with a scowl, and then said, “But I think he must have meant someone else.”

“Meant someone else to leave ye mean?” Edith asked uncertainly.

“Aye. I think he was mixing us up with someone else. He did no’ even ken Gran’s name. He kept calling her Ealasaid.”

Edith stared at Ronson, a sound like rushing water in her ears as she tried to grasp what he’d said. When the sound began to recede, she finally said carefully, “Lad, did ye say he called her Ealasaid?”

“Aye.” Ronson scowled. “She was so angry at him I do no’ think she even noticed. But I did, and after he left I tried to tell her he was confused and she should go up to the castle and explain it to him, but Gran just told me to hush and go to bed and sleep, we were leaving at first light.”

Ronson grimaced and admitted, “I think mayhap she was a bit overset by it all, because while she packed she kept muttering about going home, but we were home,” he said earnestly and then heaved out another breath. “Anyway, then we left and walked all the way here, and it was hard, m’lady. The hardest thing I’ve done in me whole life. Sometimes I fell asleep on me feet and woke up to find Gran carrying me. I was ever so glad when we got here and ye let us stay.”

Edith smiled crookedly, but had no idea what to say to that. She liked Ronson a great deal, but at that moment she couldn’t honestly say she was glad that he and his grandmother had come to Drummond and that she’d let them stay. In that moment, she was quite sure it had been the biggest mistake of her life.

“Did ye—” she began.

“Ronson,” Niels interrupted her grimly. “I need to have a word with me wife. We’ll only be over there by the horse. Stay here until we return.”

“Aye, m’laird,” Ronson said through a yawn, and then flopped onto his back on the furs to stare up at the sky overhead.