The Highlander Takes a Bride (11 page)

Alpin groaned and slumped closer against him and Greer frowned at the heat pouring off the boy. He was really quite concerned about the lad. It had been dawn when he’d woken the last time in Saidh’s bed. Greer had been terribly tempted to wake Saidh for another round of passion, but she’d looked so peaceful sleeping, and he was concerned that he would just add to the discomfort that she would no doubt suffer today, so had forced himself from Saidh’s bed, gathered anything that would speak of his presence in her room and had dragged himself back to his own.

His bedchamber had seemed empty when he’d entered and Greer had quickly changed and headed below. He’d intended to go out and collect his horse to ride out to the loch for a quick dip to clean himself up before breaking his fast. But one look at the empty stall where Bowie kept his horse had told him that unless he wanted company, he should wait to take his own swim. His first, he had noticed, liked to swim early in the morning as well. He’d come across the man on more than one occasion down at the loch.

Clucking impatiently under his tongue, Greer had trudged back into the keep to break his fast, but it had been a tiresome business. He hadn’t swum yet to build up his appetite, and Lady MacDonnell, Saidh, nor even Alpin were at the tables. He knew Lady MacDonnell hadn’t been feeling well the night before and so was probably having a lie-in, and he had kept Saidh up half the night with his desires so she would sleep late. But Alpin’s absence had been troublesome and after searching the bailey and castle, Greer had returned to his room and found that it wasn’t empty after all. The boy had been huddled under a mountain of furs at the foot of the bed, shivering madly.

A quick feel of his forehead had only deepened Greer’s concern and he’d rousted the boy from sleep and harried him downstairs to break his fast, making sure he ate heartily despite his protests. He’d then gone to the kitchens to order the cook to put water on to heat for a bath, then returned to Alpin and told him to go back above stairs, grab some furs from his bed, and huddle outside Lady Saidh’s door. At the first sound that suggested she was awake, he was to run down to the kitchens and tell them to take up the bath. Then he was to come out and let him know.

The boy had done as told, Bowie had returned, and now Greer intended to make Alpin submerge himself in the cold loch water, even if he had to hold him down to get it done. He knew the common belief right now was that you should close all the windows, bundle the ailing individual up and stoke the fires in the room high to boil out the fever, but Greer had met a rather wise old healer once who had told him that was the wrong way to go about it. That a fever too high could damage the head and ye were better to do what ye could to cool the body than to heat it further.

Since that healer had saved his life when he was quite sure no one else could have, he was wont to listen to her advice and cool Alpin down. If it didn’t work . . . well, then he’d try something else.

“There ye are.”

Saidh peered into the mirror Joyce held before her. Eyes widening in surprise as she took in her reflection, she breathed with amazement, “Why ye’ve made me pretty without fussing hardly at all.”

Joyce laughed and set the mirror aside. “M’lady, God made ye pretty. I jest brushed out yer hair and put in a couple o’ wee braids to keep it out o’ yer face during the day.”

That was exactly what she’d done. Joyce had taken a few strands of hair on one side to make one long thin braid, and then done the same on the other before drawing both back to weave them together at the back of her head. Each braid held the rest of her unbraided hair off her face. It was most sensible. She would battle better with her sword without her hair getting in the way . . . and yet she looked pretty. . . . and ladylike, she marveled. And it had not even taken long or needed a lot of fuss.

Saidh smiled happily at the woman and stood up. “Ye’re very good at this, Joyce. I’d be happy to have ye to maid.”

“Ah, ye’re too kind, m’lady. I did little,” Joyce said, but beamed with pleasure.

Smiling, Saidh reached out to squeeze her hand in gratitude, and then turned to lead the way to the door, thinking that she would enjoy Joyce as her maid much more than she ever had Erin, and wondering if she could convince Lady MacDonnell or Greer to let her take her with her when she left. Lady MacDonnell was hardly likely to be eager to part with such a gem.

Thoughts of Lady MacDonnell reminded her of the woman knocking at her door last night to check on her after Greer had stabbed her with his cock and set her off bellowing. The memory made her bite her lip. She had been quite rude to the woman, leaving her standing in the hall to talk through the door, but had had little choice at the time. She really should apologize for it now though, she decided.

“How is Lady MacDonnell today?” Saidh asked as she opened her chamber door and led Joyce out into the hall.

“She is ha’ing a lie in, but I think is feeling better than yester eve,” Joyce said solemnly.

“And Laird MacDonnell?” Saidh asked, trying not to sound too eager.

“Oh, he seemed fine and fit this morn,” Joyce assured her. “Ha’e no’ seen the man smile so wide since he got here. I’m sure he has no’ been afflicted by whatever Lady MacDonnell and wee Alpin have.”

“Alpin is ill?” Saidh paused and turned to the woman with surprise.

“Aye,” Joyce said with a little sigh. “And he appears to ha’e it worse than Lady MacDonnell. She is merely tired, but wee Alpin was flush and shivering something fierce this morn when the laird dragged him down to break his fast.”

Saidh turned to start down the stairs with a frown. She found the news that the squire was ill surprisingly distressing considering what a pain in the arse the lad had been.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Joyce said suddenly as they reached the bottom of the stairs. “The cook asked me to tell ye that he made that applemoyse fer ye first thing this morn and ’tis ready whenever ye want it.”

“Oh.” Saidh’s frown turned into a grimace. She’d quite forgotten about her plan to sweeten Fenella up with the treat and then try to sort out if she was like the scorpion and killing was just in her nature.

Well, Saidh thought, she had to break her fast anyway. She could take the applemoyse up to Fenella for them both to break their fast with.

“Thank ye, Joyce,” Saidh said quietly as she led her to the door to the kitchens.

Cook was a large, florid-faced man who always seemed to be smiling from what Saidh could tell. He greeted her cheerfully, presented the applemoyse with pride and a pleasure that only seemed to grow when he realized she wanted it for her cousin. Saidh left the kitchens with the applemoyse and the distinct impression that the cook, as well as the rest of the servants in the kitchens, quite liked Fenella. None of them seemed to think she’d had anything to do with Allen’s death, and while they loved Lady MacDonnell they all felt it was a shame that in her grief, the woman was blaming “poor wee Fenella.”

Saidh pondered that as she headed back above stairs, wondering if they weren’t right. After all, Lady MacDonnell herself had even suggested that might be the case. Of course, Lady MacDonnell didn’t know that Fenella’s first husband’s death was not an attack by bandits. Just as Saidh hadn’t known about the feather in Laird MacIver’s mouth, which wasn’t conclusive evidence of anything, but certainly made a body wonder.

Saidh paused at her cousin’s chamber door, but before she could raise her hand to knock, it flew open and Fenella grabbed her arm and dragged her into the room.

“Where ha’e ye been?” Fenella cried, slamming the door and whirling to face her.

“Fetching ye the applemoyse I had Cook make special fer ye,” Saidh said warily and held out the treat.

“I did no’ mean now, I mean all yesterday after the nooning and in the even—” She paused suddenly, nose twitching and then peered down at the dessert. “Applemoyse?”

“Aye.” Saidh held it out to her. “ ’Tis still warm from the ovens.”

“It smells delicious,” Fenella said on a little sigh.

“Aye. I took Alpin out with me yesterday and we found and picked the apples fer ye.”

“Ye did?” Fenella asked with surprise.

Saidh nodded and shrugged. “Well, I remembered how fond ye were o’ applemoyse and I thought it might cheer ye.” She grimaced and added, “I gave them to Cook hoping he could make them in time fer ye to ha’e with sup last night, but ’twas too late, so he made it up first thing this morning.”

“Oh, Saidh. That was kind o’ ye,” Fenella said, offering her a smile.

Saidh smiled back and then glanced around and moved to set the dessert on a very tiny table in the corner of the room that she hadn’t noticed on her previous visits.

“I planned to check on ye last night after the sup, but I was no’ feeling well and went to bed early instead,” Saidh said as she turned back. She wasn’t lying, she hadn’t been feeling well when she’d left Greer in the great hall and stomped to the stairs to retire. She’d been cranky as an old hag. And she
had
gone to bed early, just not alone.

“I suspected ye were no’ feeling well,” Fenella admitted with a frown. “I ken ye had nightmares. I heard ye screaming yer head off and then Lady MacDonnell checking on ye.” She grinned suddenly and added, “ ’Twas rude o’ ye to leave the old cow in the hall and no’ e’en open the door when she’d dragged herself from her bed to look in on ye.”

“Oh,” Saidh said weakly, guilt flowing over her again at just how rude she’d been. She really needed to check on the woman after she left Fenella, and thank her again for her concern. Pushing that thought aside, Saidh glanced to Fenella and then waved her to the dessert. “Come, break yer fast. They were made special fer ye.”

“I ha’e already broken me fast,” Fenella confessed as she joined her by the table. “But I’ll no’ pass up applemoyse. You should ha’e some too though. Ye’re the one who went to find the apples.”

“Thank ye,” Saidh murmured and scooped up a treat.

“Come.” Fenella moved back to her bed and settled on it, then patted the space beside her. “We’ll ha’e to eat here since Lady MacDonnell has seen fit to gi’e me such a small room there is no place fer furniture.” She scowled bitterly and then added, “I suppose I’ll ha’e to find another husband unless I wish to sleep in this hard cell fer the rest o’ me life.”

Saidh glanced to her with surprise. Just the day before Fenella had been moaning and weeping all over Greer’s chest, sobbing that Allen was her true love and she would never get over him. Now she was planning to remarry?

Fenella caught her expression and scowled. “I ha’e to be practical, Saidh. I’m a young woman now dependent on the kindness o’ me dead husband’s family who suspect me o’ killing him.”

“Greer does no’ seem to think ye killed Allen,” Saidh said quietly.

“Nay.” Fenella sighed. “He is verra kind too, and handsome in a rough sort o’ way, and seems just as thoughtful and considerate as me Allen was.” She lifted her gaze thoughtfully to the ceiling, and then tapped her chin briefly before murmuring, “I bet he would no’ trouble me with his base needs either. Perhaps like Allen, he is above all that too.”

Saidh pursed her lips, unsure what to say. She could tell Fenella that Allen had left her alone out of lack of interest rather than because he was “above all that.” But that just seemed cruel. There was no need for her to know that now. But neither did Saidh think it was a good idea to assure her that Greer had some very strong base needs indeed, and a strong appetite for them. She might want to know how she knew, so didn’t comment on it at all, and simply changed the subject.

“Fenella, tell me about yer marriages.” Saidh winced as the words came out of her mouth. The question wasn’t accusatory, but it certainly hadn’t been as nonchalant as she’d hoped, or suggestive of a desire to chat and giggle about men the way women do either. But then, Saidh wasn’t the sort to chat and giggle . . . well, usually, she acknowledged to herself. She had chatted quite a bit with Joan, Murine and Edith, and had even giggled with them a time or two, something she’d never done before.

Actually, she realized, Joan, Murine and Edith were the first female friends she’d ever had aside from her mother, who had been both friend and mother to her. Goodness, chatting and giggling with females, wearing her hair in this fancy style . . .’Twas as if she were growing out of the boyish ways she’d always embraced and turning into a girl, she thought with dismay. Next she’d be rubbing berries into her cheeks and on her lips, and going without braies.

Never! She thought grimly, but then reconsidered as it occurred to her that it would make it much easier for Greer to tumble her if she didn’t wear braies under her skirts. He could just lift her skirt and his plaid and—

“What do ye want to ken? I already told ye about them.”

Saidh blinked at those words and found Fenella peering at her almost resentfully. She hesitated, trying to think of a diplomatic way to find out what she needed to know, but really, there didn’t seem to be one. Besides, it did seem to her that catching Fenella by surprise was more likely to give her the truth than beating about the bush and hoping the truth would fall out. Sighing, she sat up straight, looked her in the eye and asked, “Did ye ken Lady MacDonnell attended yer marriage to the senior MacIver?”

Fenella blinked in surprise. “Nay. Did she?”

“Aye. In fact, she is one o’ the women who helped wash and prepare the body fer burial.”

“Oh.” Fenella grimaced. “They all thought I should help, but I did no’ ken what to do. Besides, I’d just lost me husband and was no’ sure where things stood or what would happen to me next. I was in no fit state fer it.”

“I’m sure she understood that. But, ye see, the problem is—and the reason Lady MacDonnell suspects ye o’ ha’ing something to do with Allen’s death, is that while she was washing the MacIver’s face, she noted that his eyes were bloodshot, and that there was a goose feather in his mouth, both suggestive that he may ha’e been smothered with a pillow.”

Fenella sat frozen for a long moment and then launched to her feet and rounded on her furiously. “Ye think I killed me husbands,” she accused grimly.