Edith blinked her eyes open and peered to the window, a smile claiming her lips when she saw the sunlight peeking through the cracks in the shutters. It was morning, finally, and today she could get up and go below. Rory and Niels had promised her as much.

It had been three days since she’d woken. Much to her dismay, the men had insisted she stay in her room, allowing her only to walk to a chair and back to her bed and usually with one of them hovering nearby in case her legs gave way.

To be fair to the men, Edith had been pathetically weak on first waking. Her attempt to get up from bed on her own the first time had been proof of that. Edith hadn’t been much stronger the next day when she’d tried to rise again unaided. She’d managed three steps before falling.

Fortunately, Niels had woken up and quickly caught her before she hit the floor. That was when they’d insisted she shouldn’t get up without one of them to help her, and to tell her that she was restricted to the room until she regained some of her strength. Edith had tried to argue with them, but it was hard to argue with four determined Buchanans. Honestly, they were worse than Saidh when it came to stubbornness. And the fact that, technically, they had no right to boss her about hadn’t mattered to them at all. But yesterday she’d been determined, and the only way they’d managed to convince her to stay in her room was to promise she could leave it today without their trying to stop her.

Edith sat up in bed and glanced around. She was alone in her bed, which made a nice change. After two nights with Effie sharing her bed, Edith had insisted they move her to Brodie’s old room next door yesterday. It wasn’t that she minded sharing her bed so much as the woman’s silent stillness and pallor made her feel like she was sharing it with a breathing corpse. It had begun to give her the creeps, and she’d found herself watching her to be sure she was still breathing.

Once the older woman was moved, Edith had become eager to clean up the chaos her room had fallen into. She’d assigned the men their own rooms, suggesting Rory take Hamish’s room, which was next to Brodie’s old room so he could watch over Effie more easily. She’d then suggested Niels take Roderick’s old room, which was next to that. Which left the two guest rooms across the hall from Roderick’s and Hamish’s rooms for Alick and Geordie.

That was when Geordie and Alick had packed up their bags and headed out for MacDonnell. Apparently they had been waiting until she was well on the way to recovery before taking news of her wellbeing to Saidh. It seemed they saw her ordering them about and cleaning up as a sign that she was definitely on the mend and not likely to relapse on them. The two men had left, intending to report to their sister on what had occurred at Drummond, and then would return to help them sort out who was behind the murders of her father and two older brothers.

Edith frowned at the thought. They’d talked about that a lot since her waking, but frankly no one seemed to have an idea of how to go about that task. Poisoning was a tricky business. They suspected someone was adding poison to the wine, which was more than possible. With her stomach still a bit delicate after her tummy ailment the week before, Edith had been avoiding wine. But anyone could have slipped poison in the wine cask, or the pitchers of wine on their way out to the table. The same was true of the stew she’d eaten while nursing Moibeal. Edith didn’t even recall who had brought her stew that night, but even if she had, they didn’t have to be the person who’d dropped poison in it.

Frankly, Edith had no idea how they could figure out who had poisoned her family members. The men hadn’t really suggested anything useful either and she knew Niels had suggested Geordie and Alick ask Saidh and Greer if they had any ideas.

Edith pushed the linen and furs aside and slid her feet to the floor only to pause as her gaze landed on Niels, Ronson and Laddie on the floor to the side of the door. The trio was all wrapped up in Niels’s tartan. Apparently Laddie had cuddled up in front of where Niels lay on his side, and Ronson had then cuddled up to the dog. The trio had then somehow wound up with Niels’s tartan blanketing them all. The sight made her smile.

Niels had been rather grumpy for most of the three days since she’d woken, giving her stern looks, and insisting she not do this and not do that. But when Rory had finally allowed Ronson to bring Laddie up to visit the day before, Edith had seen an entirely different side of Niels. Oh, he’d still been grumpy and growly to a degree, but he’d been incredibly kind and patient with Ronson, and Edith had really appreciated it. The boy obviously hadn’t had a lot of male influence in his life and appeared to look up to Niels quite a bit. Laddie also appeared taken with the man, obeying his orders promptly and behaving with better manners than Edith had ever seen.

Their visit had been a breath of fresh air in the sickroom. Ronson had chattered happily away, telling her everything that had happened since she’d fallen ill, which amounted to not much of anything, but was still entertaining when the boy told it. She’d also enjoyed having Laddie snuggling up to her on the bed, even when the dog had licked her face like crazy. There was just something about dogs that soothed the soul, and Edith’s soul had needed soothing after the events of the past weeks.

She peered at the trio spooning on the floor and shook her head faintly, not sure how Ronson and Laddie had ended up staying in her room all night. She did know that Niels had insisted that she needed guarding still and was determined to sleep on the floor by the door. But the last she recalled, Ronson and Laddie had been curled up on the foot of her bed, sound asleep while she and Niels had talked quietly, she in the bed, he in the chair next to her bed. She must have fallen asleep, however, because she didn’t recall the man, boy and dog moving to the floor.

Wishing she had some artistic talent so that she might paint this scene and never forget it, Edith eased out of bed, freezing when Laddie immediately lifted his head. She gave him the gesture to stay, and he did, but the dog didn’t lower his head and simply watched alertly as she moved to the chest at the foot of her bed to retrieve a gown. Edith picked the first one her hand touched and quickly tugged it on over her shift. It would have been nice to be able to change her shift, but she wouldn’t risk it with Niels and Ronson there. She was anxious enough just standing there in her shift even though he’d already seen her in it.

Once dressed, Edith quickly ran a brush through her hair, washed her face and hands at the basin on the table and then moved silently toward the door, putting out her hand again to order Laddie to stay. Unfortunately, there was only so much a dog could take and the moment she reached for the door handle, he stood up and started forward, dragging the tartan with him. Ronson immediately stirred, but Edith hardly noticed, her eyes were widening on Niels as a good portion of the tartan was pulled away from him before it fell off Laddie and dropped to cover Niels’s face. It also left the man bare from about midchest down.

It wasn’t until Ronson popped to his feet, scrubbing his eyes sleepily, that Edith managed to drag her gaze from more than she’d ever expected to see of one of Saidh’s brothers. Giving her head a shake, she opened the door and stepped out into the hall, followed quickly by Laddie and Ronson.

“Should we—” Ronson began, but paused at once when she hushed him.

Edith closed the door carefully, and then ushered the lad up the hall. They were at the stairs before she stopped to eye him and asked, “Does yer grandmother ken where ye slept last night, or has she been worrying herself sick wondering where ye were?”

“I told her,” he said just a little too quickly, and then babbled, “Lord Niels told me to go below and ask would it be all right, so I did.”

“Ye did what? Ask her or tell her?”

Ronson grimaced, but then sighed and admitted, “She was heading into the garderobe when I came down, so I asked her through the door and she did no’ say no, so I came back up.”

Edith clucked her tongue and shook her head. “She probably did no’ even hear ye. Ye ken her hearing is bad, Ronson. Why did ye no’ just wait fer her to come out and ask her then?”

“Because she takes forever in there,” he complained.

“Aye well, I’m afraid when we get old we all take a little more time in the garderobe,” Edith said.

“Hmm.” Ronson scowled. “No’ like Gran. Sometimes I think she falls asleep doing her business, she takes so long.” Heaving out a heavy sigh, he shook his head and said woefully, “I’m never getting old, and that’s the truth, m’lady. I’m no’ spending all me time crapping in the gong.”

Edith’s eyes widened incredulously, and then, deciding a change of subject was in order, she asked, “What were ye going to say when we were leaving the bedchamber, Ronson?”

“I was just thinking mayhap we should wake Niels so he can keep ye safe from the murdering pimple-arsed whoreson who done poisoned yer father and brothers,” Ronson said earnestly.

Edith blinked down at the boy several times as her brain tried to accept the words that had just come from his mouth. She’d never heard Ronson use such foul language, but didn’t have to think hard to know where he’d learned the words. The Buchanans did have a very colorful way of speaking. Even Saidh had a mouth so foul it could make your ears pinken.

“Er . . . aye, well I’m sure I’ll be safe enough from the . . . er . . . pimple-arsed . . .” Edith paused and then just shook her head and started down the stairs, saying, “I’m sure we’ll be safe enough at table, do ye no’ think?”

“But Laddie’ll have to go outside or he’ll be pissing everywhere like a warty prick,” Ronson protested.

“Oh, dear,” Edith breathed faintly. Goodness. A little time with the Buchanans was certainly a lot of time when it came to learning, it seemed.

“So I gotta take him out,” Ronson continued anxiously, following her down the stairs. “And then ye’ll be all alone. I can no’ leave ye alone, m’lady. That murdering whoreson might get ye!”

“I’m—Oh!” Edith gasped with surprise when she was suddenly swept off her feet and into someone’s arms. Turning her head, she gaped at Niels and protested, “I can walk, m’lord.”

“Aye, but ye’re too slow. Ye were blocking the stairs,” Niels argued with a shrug as he continued down the stairs, and then he added grimly, “And ye should no’ have left the room without me.”

“I was just telling her that, m’lord,” Ronson assured him firmly, on their heels. “I told her as how we needed ye to keep her safe from the warty prick what poisoned her da and brothers.”

“Actually, I believe he was the pimple-arsed whoreson, and Laddie would be pissing like a warty prick,” Edith pointed out dryly, glaring at Niels as she did. When he just grinned at her, she whispered sharply, “His grandmother is going to kill me fer letting ye teach him such things.”

Niels raised his eyebrows and then paused on the bottom step and turned to tell Ronson, “A man does no’ use such words in front o’ a lady.”

Ronson looked confused and pointed out, “But ye do.”

Niels pursed his lips and nodded. “Aye. I do,” he admitted and then turned to cross the bailey floor, muttering, “I tried, m’lady, but by God’s tooth he’s right. I fear me brothers and I all swear something awful.”

“Aye,” Edith said on a sigh. “So does Saidh. I suppose there are worse habits.”

Niels grunted what might have been an agreement to that as he set her on the bench at the table, and then glanced around and ordered, “Take Laddie outside, Ronson. His eyes are near floating he has to go so bad.”

“Aye, m’lord,” the boy said and hurried away, calling Laddie to follow just as the dog started to lift a leg by the end of the bench she sat on. Fortunately the dog obeyed and followed at once.

Niels watched them until they left the great hall and then dropped to sit on the bench next to Edith.

“He thinks much o’ you,” she said quietly.

“Aye. Well, I like him fine too,” Niels said gruffly. “He’s a good lad.”

“He is,” she agreed.

“It was good o’ ye to take in he and his grandmother,” Niels said softly enough not to be heard by others.

Edith shrugged. “Ye make it sound like charity. It was no’. I had positions fer both o’ them.”

“Aye. Ronson watches yer dog,” he said with amusement. “Tell me the two o’ them do no’ simply follow ye around the keep all the livelong day.”

“How did ye ken th—?” Catching herself, she stopped and clucked her tongue with irritation at giving herself away.

“Because they have been following me around in yer absence every time I left yer room,” Niels answered her unfinished question, his tone dry. “’Tis obvious the lad usually follows ye around. Any question I asked about ye, he kenned the answer to.”

Edith stiffened and turned to eye him suspiciously. “What kind o’ questions?”

She was not soothed by the wide grin that suddenly claimed his lips.

“Ah, m’lady, I can no’ tell ye how pleased I am to see ye up and about and well.”

Edith turned quickly and smiled at Cawley as he claimed the spot on her other side and took her hand.

“I knew they could save ye,” Cawley told her, squeezing the hand he held. “Thank God Tormod listened to me and finally agreed to let them in to tend to ye else ye’d have surely died.”

“God’s blood, Cawley,” Tormod growled, dropping onto the bench next to him. “I was following orders. Once the lad pointed out that his brother might be able to save our lady, I let them in, did I no’? Despite the fact I’ll probably be flogged fer it?”

“Oh flogged,” Cawley said with disgust. “What’s a little flogging when our lady is alive and well?”

“I do no’ ken. Why do I no’ take ye out front and give ye the floggin’ I’ll most like receive when the laird returns and then ye can tell what a little flogging is?” Tormod said grimly.

“Oh now, Tormod,” Cawley said with alarm.

“I would no’ do that and ye ken it,” Tormod said on a sigh, and then asked, “Did ye talk to the cook, like I asked?”

“O’ course I did,” Cawley said at once.

“And?” Tormod asked.

“And he could no’ remember who took the stew up to Lady Edith that made her sick,” Cawley admitted unhappily.

“And?” Tormod repeated.

“And what?” Cawley asked warily.

“Is that it?” Tormod snapped. “I have been running meself ragged overseeing the men at practice and running the servants in Lady Edith’s absence. I asked ye to do one thing, one thing—question the cook and his maids in the kitchen and find out what ye can—and that’s all ye come back to me with?”

“Oh, well . . . I did try,” Cawley said anxiously.

“No’ hard enough,” Tormod growled. “If we can no’ sort out who put the poison in her food and drink then Lady Edith is still in danger. Get yer hairy arse into the kitchen and watch the food, make sure no one puts poison in anything. And ask questions while ye’re there. Find out what ye can.”

Cawley nodded eagerly and stood.

“And tell Cook he’d best make and bring out Lady Edith’s food himself and never take his eyes off it while he does, because if she is poisoned again, I’ll hang the two o’ ye from the castle wall and let crows pick yer bones.”

Eyes wide, Cawley nodded and waddled quickly off to the kitchens.

Tormod watched him go and then turned to the table with a sigh and muttered, “That ought to keep him out o’ our hair for another day or two.”

“Aye,” Edith murmured and then glanced to Niels and noted his expression.

“Cawley is special,” Tormod said when Edith hesitated to explain.

“Special?” Niels asked dubiously.

“Aye,” Edith agreed. “He has a tendency to . . . er . . .”

“He tells tales,” Tormod said mildly. “A lot. While he just claimed to Edith that he argued that you be let in, when Brodie returns he’ll tell him just as earnestly, and right in front of her, that he tried to warn me against going against his orders and opening the gate to ye.”

When Niels looked to her, Edith nodded solemnly. “It is what he’s always done.”

Niels pursed his lips and then asked Tormod, “So which is true? Did he argue you should let us in or keep us out?”

“Both,” Tormod said with a scowl. “That is the hell of it. He never truly lies, he just . . .” He hesitated and then explained, “When ye first got here he argued we’d best no’ let ye in, and reminded me Lady Victoria had said we were to let no one in. And then when ye mentioned yer brother was a healer and might save her, he argued I should let you in. But the moment I agreed, he began to argue that we should not.”

Niels shook his head and asked with bewilderment, “Why is he the second here?”

“Because he is my father’s half brother and he wanted to take care of him,” Edith said quietly.

Niels eyebrows rose at the bald announcement, and then he asked, “Half brother?”

“’Tis a sad story,” Tormod warned him, and then told it so that Edith didn’t have to. “Ye see, the old bastard laird, Edith’s grandfather, had banished Cawley and his mother when Cawley was but a lad. But Edith’s father knew about it, and when the old man died he wanted to make up fer his behavior. He found Cawley, brought him here and made him his second, but then he made sure we all understood that it was in name only. When we say Cawley is special, we mean he’s no’ quite right in the head.”

“My grandfather did no’ just banish Cawley and his mother,” Edith explained. “As a young boy Cawley somehow found out that my grandfather was his father. He approached him and told him he knew. I do no’ ken what he was hoping to achieve. He probably just wanted a father, he was just a boy, no older than Ronson at the time, but Grandfather was enraged. He beat him horribly . . . nearly to death. And then he banished them both. Cawley’s mother carried him away and did the best she could, but while his body healed, his mind was never the same again.” She shrugged helplessly. “My father used to take them food and coins to try to help them get by, but could do little more than that until his father died.”

“I see,” Niels said quietly.

“The problem is that Cawley likes to be the center o’ attention,” Tormod said quietly. “If he is no’ kept busy he will insinuate himself into everything and tends to cause confusion and strife.”

“So, ye keep him busy,” Niels said with understanding.

“Aye, and usually in the kitchens,” Tormod said with a wry smile. “Because the one thing he likes best in the world is his food. In fact the minute he’s in the kitchen he’ll forget everything I told him and simply concentrate on eating.”

“We think it is because he and his mother were nearly starving for so long,” Edith said softly. “Now he eats all he can fer fear there will be no more tomorrow.”

“Aye,” Tormod said sadly. “Fortunately, Cook is a good-natured sort and simply sits him in a corner with bowl after bowl of food and lets him jabber away.”

“So ye did no’ mean it when ye said Cook had best make and bring out Edith’s food himself and—”

“Oh, aye, I meant it,” Tormod interrupted with a grim smile. “But it does no’ matter if Cawley tells him, because I told Cook that meself last night, and again this morning.”

“Ah,” Niels said relaxing and even managing a smile. Then he glanced to Edith. “Is yer uncle Cawley the reason ye took in Ronson and his grandmother?”

“Nay,” Edith said with surprise. “I took them in because they needed a home. Everyone should have a place to call home.”

Niels stared at Edith and wondered if she realized just how much she’d said with those words. She had given Ronson and his grandmother a place where they could feel they belonged and that they could call home. She was giving them what she herself didn’t have. Her place here was temporary. Edith would lose the only home she’d ever known and the rest of her family along with it, all the soldiers and servants she’d grown up with and considered her family, friends and charges. She would even lose her damned dog since he didn’t think the Abbey would allow her to bring the huge beast with her.

It was heartbreaking to him, and so unfair. Edith was a good woman, a kind woman. She deserved better.

“M’lady.”

Niels glanced around even as Edith did, his eyes narrowing as he saw the skinny little man standing behind Edith with a metal platter with pastries on it.

“I made yer favorite,” the man said. “Pastry stuffed with sweetened cherries.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Edith said smiling at the man. “Thank ye, Jaimie.”

“’Twas me pleasure,” he assured her, beaming. “We are all verra happy to see ye up and about again, m’lady. And I promise ye, I did no’ take me eyes off these pastries from start to finish. I even stood and watched ’em cook. No one got near them. So you enjoy ’em. They’re safe.”

“Thank ye, Jaimie,” Edith said again, and when the man leaned past her to set them on the table in front of her, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek of gratitude that had the man flushed and flustered. Bobbing his head repeatedly, he backed away from the table and then turned and rushed back to the kitchens as red as the cherries in his pastries.

Niels eyed the pastries on the platter and caught her hand when she went to grab one. “Mayhap I should try one first in case they’re poisoned.”

Edith blinked at him with surprise. “Ye heard Jaimie, he watched them from start to finish. They are fine.”

“But what if he is the one who poisoned the wine and stew?” he pointed out.

“What? He would no’ . . .” Pausing, she narrowed her eyes. “Ye’re just after me cherry pastries, m’lord.”

“I am not, I—” he began to protest, but paused when she took a pastry off the platter and offered it to him.

“Try it then. They’re very good.”

Niels accepted the pastry, his mouth already watering. He was biting into it even before she turned to offer the platter to the other man.

“You too, Tormod,” Edith said. “I can no’ possibly eat all o’ these by meself.”

“Ah, ye’re a fine woman, Lady Edith. A heart o’ gold is what ye have,” Tormod said, taking a pastry as well.

Niels saw Edith shake her head with amusement at the man’s flattery, but he was busy trying not to moan at how good the pastry he’d just bitten into was. Dear God if the cook at Buchanan made anything even near as good as this, he and his brothers would not be happily wandering far and wide making coin. They’d all be stuck at home, as big as Cawley and just as complacent.

“Pastries?” Ronson cried, rushing up to the table with Laddie on his heels.

“Aye. Cherry,” Edith said and held the platter out to the boy. When he took one, she said, “Take two and sit next to Niels to eat. No sharing with Laddie though, ye ken they make him sick.”

“I ken,” Ronson said. “Thank ye, m’lady.” Taking his booty, he climbed up onto the bench next to Niels and set to work at scarfing down the cherry delights.

“Well?”

Mouth full of pastry, Niels raised an eyebrow in question at Edith’s question.

“Is it poisoned?” she asked dryly.

Chewing, he merely shook his head and Edith snorted and picked up three more pastries and set them in front of him, saying, “Enjoy.”

It was in that moment that Niels Buchanan decided that Edith Drummond was one of the finest women he’d ever met.

“So, what are yer plans fer today?” Tormod asked.

Niels knew he was asking Edith but when she opened her mouth to answer, he quickly swallowed the pastry and said firmly, “Bed.”

“What?” Edith turned on him with shock. “I am no’ going back to bed. I just got up.”

“Ye have to take this slowly. Ye’ve been ill fer weeks. Ye need—”

“I was poisoned, not ill,” she reminded him grimly. “And I am fine now.”

“Ye must no’ overdo it. Ye’re still weak,” he argued.

“Aye, I am,” she acknowledged. “But I’m no’ going to get stronger lounging about in bed. Besides, there is much to do around here.”

“Nonsense,” Niels said at once.

“Oh really?” she asked with disbelief. “So ye did no’ notice the horrid moldy stench to the rush mat ye slept on last night? Because I notice ye now carry that stink with ye, as do Ronson and Laddie.”

Frowning, Niels sniffed himself and grimaced. He had indeed noticed the smell when he’d first laid down last night, but so many hours with it in his nose had apparently made him immune to the scent. Now that she mentioned it though, he did carry the smell with him and it was quite putting him off his cherry pastries.

Scowling, he asked, “What has to happen to make the rushes smell better?”

“I shall have the women remove and burn the old rush mats and then I shall have to take the children down to the river to collect fresh rushes.” She paused and then added, “And then the women will have to weave fresh mats to replace the old and we’ll put them down and sprinkle dried flowers to make them smell nice.”

Niels was silent for a moment, considering what she’d said. In the short time that he’d known Edith, he’d come to understand her well enough to realize that having the women remove and burn the old rush mats meant she’d help them do it, and taking the children down to collect fresh rushes probably meant she’d be performing the backbreaking work alongside them. It was just the kind of woman she was, leading by example and not simply standing back and barking orders. Niels also knew she felt fine just now, but the woman had spent the better part of the past month ill in bed. She would tire much more quickly than she realized.

However, he suspected he wasn’t going to be able to talk her out of this rush business. In truth, he really didn’t want to. Now that he was aware of it again, he found the moldy stench that had permeated his shirt and tartan unbearable. He was thinking a quick trip to the loch to bathe away the scent was a good idea, but it would do him little good if he then had to lie on the smelly mats again tonight. Since he had no intention of leaving Edith unprotected, that was where he was definitely going to be tonight, so fresh rushes were a necessity.

“Verra well, I suggest ye have yer maid Moibeal oversee the collecting and burning o’ the mats while ye take the children down to collect fresh rushes,” Niels said now, and when she started to protest as he expected, added, “‘Twill help speed things along and I think that may be necessary. Me leg was tender when I woke up this morn.”

Edith blinked at him with confusion. “Yer leg? What has that to do with anything?”

“’Tis an old injury that usually only acts up before a rainstorm,” he explained, which was true, though he was quite sure this morning’s tenderness could be blamed on sleeping on the cold, hard floor and not a coming rain. “Ye’ll want the rushes collected and the children back at the keep ere that happens else ye’ll have a castle full o’ sick children on yer hands.”

“Oh, aye,” she agreed with a frown.

“I’ll oversee the collecting and burning of the old mats,” Tormod said now. “I’ll have the men help too. That way ye can take Moibeal along and a couple other maids to help with gathering rushes and corralling the children. They can be a handful.”

“Oh, that’s no’ necessary,” Edith said at once. “I can handle the children.”

“Aye, but if ’tis going to rain, ye’ll want the lads and lassies to be quick about their business, and ye ken how they dawdle and play. Moibeal and the others can help ye speed things along. In fact,” Tormod announced, “I’m thinking mayhap ye should take all the maids and leave the collecting and burning completely to me men. It’ll be done in no time then, ye’ll beat the rain and ye ken it’ll be like a day off fer them, a bit o’ fun. After these weeks o’ stress and tragedy, everyone could do with a little o’ that.”

“A fine idea, Tormod,” Niels said with an approving nod, appreciating his aid.

“Laddie and I’ll come with ye, m’lady,” Ronson announced.

Niels grinned at the lad when he saw the cherry filling smeared all over his face. It looked like he’d got more around his mouth than in it.

“Thank ye, Ronson, that would be fine,” Edith said with a smile.

Nodding, Ronson licked cherry filling from his hand and added, “Do no’ ye worry none, Laddie and I’ll keep ye safe from that boil-brained barnacle from Satan’s arse what poisoned ye.”

“Dear God, pray tell me Bessie did no’ hear that,” Edith breathed.

“Who’s Bessie?” Niels asked with curiosity.

“Ronson’s grandmother,” Tormod explained.

Interested in seeing the woman who had helped raise the fine boy next to him, Niels glanced around. “Is she here?”

“Aye. That’s her, mending by the fire. Do no’ look,” Edith gasped when he turned to peer over his shoulder, and then just as quickly asked, “Is she looking this way?”

“Nay. She appears to be asleep,” Niels said, eyeing the old woman in the chair by the fire. Her hair was pulled up into a tight bun on the top of her head and her clothes were tattered, but clean. Her eyes though appeared to be closed and her hands lay unmoving in her lap on top of a shirt she’d apparently been mending.

“Thank God,” Edith muttered. “Come on, Ronson. We’ll go find Moibeal and the other maids, and then gather the children together and head out as soon as we can.”

“Ye’re no’ letting her go out to collect the rushes by herself, are ye?” Tormod asked with a frown once Edith and Ronson had moved away to find servants to take with them.

Niels shook his head. “Nay. I’m going. And I’m taking some furs fer her to sit on, as well as some cherry pastries and me horse. She does no’ realize it now, but she’ll be exhausted within the hour.”

“Aye, well, she’s stubborn,” Tormod warned him. “So do no’ expect her to admit it when she tires. She’ll work herself to the edge o’ exhaustion and still force herself to press forward rather than admit defeat.”

“Aye. I already suspected as much,” Niels assured him. “She’s a lot like me sister that way.”

“Do ye have a plan?” Tormod asked with interest.

“Aye. I’ll use the lad against her,” Niels said simply.

The old man smiled and nodded. “That’ll work. She frets about him enough ye’d think he was hers.”

“Aye,” Niels agreed and then asked, “Why is that?”

Tormod shook his head. “Lady Edith has always had a good heart . . . too good at times. Others take advantage.” He sighed. “It breaks me heart to think what’ll happen to her when Brodie returns. Most like she’ll be on her way to the Abbey within an hour after he arrives. She deserves better.”

“Aye,” Niels murmured, wishing there was something he could do for her.

“Well, I guess I’d best go let the lads ken what they’re doing today,” Tormod said, getting to his feet.

“Will they mind?” he asked curiously.

Tormod snorted. “Not likely. Oh, they’ll whine and complain about doing women’s work while they drag the mats out, but once it comes time fer burning the rushes, they’ll pull out the ale and drink and laugh around the fire.”

Niels smiled faintly. It’s what he and his brothers would have done too. Wishing the man a good day, he stood and headed above stairs to retrieve the items he wanted for this outing.