Surrender to the Highlander(12)

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, 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.





Chapter 4




“Mayhap ye should rest, m’lady.”

Edith managed a smile for Moibeal at that suggestion, but merely shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“Aye, but ye’ve been awful ill fer weeks,” her maid said worriedly. “Ye do no’ want to overdo it and fall ill again.”

“I was poisoned, no’ ill, Moibeal,” Edith pointed out, bending to hack at the base of the next bunch of rushes with the sickle in her right hand.

Edith bit back a groan as she added the rushes to the bunch gathered in her left arm, and then glanced around in surprise when the whole stack was taken from her. Swallowing the “thank ye” that almost slipped out, she scowled at Niels instead and said, “I can manage, m’lord, ye—”

“Ronson’s exhausted,” Niels interrupted. “He did no’ sleep well last night and is younger than most o’ the other children here. He needs a break.”

Pausing, Edith glanced around with a frown to see Ronson working wearily farther along the bank, the exhaustion clear on his pale face. “Aye,” she murmured with concern and straightened. “I’ll tell him to stop and rest now.”

“I already did,” Niels said with a shrug. “But he insists he’ll work as long as ye do.”

“Really?” She frowned.

“Aye. I was hoping to convince ye to take a wee break. Just long enough to get the boy to stop,” he added quickly, and then tempted her with, “I brought some of those cherry pastries and furs to sit on. I already spread out the furs. I thought we could have a picnic. I suspect Ronson’ll fall asleep soon as his belly is full and then ye can work some more or no’ as ye wish.”

Edith’s mouth began to water at the thought of the cherry pastries, and her body was crying out for rest. Niels had been right. She had tired sooner than she’d expected, but she’d pushed on, determined not to give in.

Her gaze slid over the other children and maids working along the riverbank to collect the needed rushes and then lifted to the sky overhead. It was as blue as Niels’s eyes. There wasn’t even a hint of rain that she could see. They seemed to have plenty of time to accomplish their task. Her gaze moved next to the carts they’d brought down with them. One was full, the other just starting to be used and she nodded.

“Moibeal, have Sorcha lead the full cart back to the castle so that the older maids who stayed behind can start on weaving the mats. Have Bryce accompany her,” she added, choosing the oldest boy. “Give them an apple each to take with them and then pass out the apples to the children and the rest o’ the maids. Everyone can sit down and rest for a few minutes.”