Surrender to the Highlander(13)

“Aye, m’lady,” Moibeal grinned gratefully, not at her, Edith noticed, but at Niels. As if he’d accomplished a miracle in getting her to stop.

Shaking her head, Edith started to turn and nearly toppled over when she tried to move away from the shore. The mud was sucking at her feet, sapping her strength. If Niels hadn’t caught her arm, she would have fallen over. Mumbling a “thank ye,” she let him lead her toward the trees where he’d set out the furs.

“Ronson!” Niels called as he saw Edith seated. “Bring Laddie and come sit a spell.”

“Aye, m’lord.”

Edith grimaced at the relief in the boy’s voice, and bit her lip when she saw him struggle out of the mud along the river and then drop his stack of rushes and head toward them. The boy was dragging his feet something awful until Laddie moved to his side. Throwing his arm over the dog, Ronson leaned on him and managed to pick up his pace a bit. The moment he reached the furs, though, he released the dog and collapsed to sit on them.

“This rush collecting is a buggering business,” Ronson gasped, flopping onto his back on the furs.

Edith sighed and just shook her head, too exhausted to comment on his language. Honestly, Niels and his brothers had been at the castle for only ten days, most of that time spent in her room from what she could tell, and already had the lad sounding like a soldier. Only the soldiers tried not to swear so much in front of the women, or at least not in front of her.

“Muddy feet off the fur, lad. And make sure Laddie does no’ get on them. He’s soaked from trying to catch fish in the river,” Niels said mildly as he sat down and opened the sack he’d brought to begin digging inside.

“Aye, m’lord.” Ronson shifted to make sure his muddy feet were not on the fur, and then patted the grass next to his feet and said, “Come on, Laddie. Lay down.”

The huge dog moved over to sniff Ronson’s hand, obviously hoping for a treat. When he didn’t find one, he huffed, and then gave himself a good shake, sending water flying everywhere.

Ronson squealed in surprise and covered his face, but Edith merely smiled and closed her eyes against the smattering of water drops spraying over her. She was too content to move, the sun felt fine on her face and lit up her eyelids so that all she saw was a bright red vista.

“Lass?”

Edith opened her eyes to see Niels holding out a cherry pastry and a skin of liquid.

“Thank ye,” she murmured, accepting the offering. Taking them both, she sniffed at the liquid in the skin, relieved when it turned out to be cider.

“I did no’ bring wine because ye mentioned ye did no’ care fer it much,” he murmured, handing Ronson a cherry pastry as well before taking one for himself.

“Thank ye,” Edith said sincerely and sipped some of the sweet liquid before passing back the skin.

Raising her pastry, she bit into it and moaned softly with pleasure as the sweet center exploded in her mouth. No one made pastries like Jaimie did. Edith ate the first quickly, but took more time with her second, half-distracted as she watched Niels peel an apple in one long strand that dangled from the edge of his knife.

“How’d ye do that, m’lord?” Ronson asked, eyeing what Niels was doing with fascination.

“Just keep going round,” Niels said and stopped to retrieve another apple. Handing it to the boy he said, “Get out yer sgian-dubh and I’ll show ye.”

“Ronson does no’ have a sgian-dubh,” Edith said gently.

Niels frowned and then handed him his own. “You can use mine then. I’ll use me dirk.”

Ronson accepted the black-handled, short knife, his eyes wide and reverent.

“Watch ye do no’ cut yerself,” Niels cautioned as he retrieved his dirk and slid it under the apple peel he’d started. “Now just start at the top by the stem and go around, but ye do no’ want to cut too deep else ye waste the meat o’ the apple. Do no’ cut too thin though either, else it’ll tear.”

Edith watched silently as he instructed the boy, fascinated by how gentle and encouraging he was with him.

Lying down on her side to watch, she smiled as she noted how Ronson had his tongue out and curved to the side as he worked. His concentration was such that one would have thought he was learning the most important task in the world, she thought with amusement, and then glanced toward Laddie when he suddenly leapt to his feet and hurried off. The dog had rushed down to the water to join the others. They’d finished their apples and were returning to gathering rushes, she saw with a frown, and turned back to Ronson and Niels. Ronson was still near the top of his apple, working slowly and carefully to peel it in one long strand.

She’d wait until he’d finished and eaten his apple and then suggest they go back to work with the others, Edith decided. In the meantime, she’d just close her eyes for a minute and enjoy the sun warming her skin, and the breeze cooling it.



It was the trundle of the cart’s wheels that woke her. Blinking her eyes open, Edith peered at the furs in front of her face and then lifted her head and peered about. Her eyes widened incredulously as she saw the maids and children following the overflowing cart of rushes out of the clearing. They’d finished while she slept, she realized with dismay. Good Lord, how long had she slept?

Her gaze shifted to the sky to see that the sun was high overhead. It looked to be about noon to her. Sighing, Edith sat up, her eyes returning to the departing party again, just in time to see Moibeal look back and note that she was awake. The maid smiled and gave her a wave and then continued to usher the children away.

An excited bark caught her ear then and Edith looked toward the river where Niels, Ronson and Laddie were. The dog was leaping around excitedly on the shore, looking like he wanted to chase after whatever it was Niels and Ronson were throwing into the water. It took a moment before she realized Niels was showing Ronson how to skip stones on the river’s placid surface. The realization made her smile faintly. It was something she and her brothers had done as children. This was the only spot on the river where the water slowed enough to allow it.

She watched briefly, marveling again at how good he was with the boy, and then glanced down. All evidence of their picnic was gone, just the furs left for her to sleep on. Edith got up and quickly gathered and stacked them in a small pile. She then headed down toward the water’s edge to join the men, smiling and giving Laddie a pet when he rushed excitedly to her side in greeting.

“Laddie!” Niels barked when the dog tried to jump on her. The deerhound obeyed the sound at once and kept his feet on the ground as Edith petted him.

“How do ye feel?” Niels asked softly as she continued forward, the dog now at her side.

“Like I slept while everyone else worked,” she said with self-disgust.

“Aye, ye did,” Niels agreed easily. “Which means yer ready fer the second part o’ yer day.”

Edith eyed him suspiciously. “Why am I quite sure ye do no’ mean weaving mats?”

“Because yer an exceptionally intelligent woman,” he said solemnly, and then glanced to Ronson and Laddie who had moved farther down the shoreline. “Come on, lad, ’tis time to go.”

“Aye, m’lord. Come on, Laddie,” Ronson said and ran toward them.

“Ye still have no’ told me where we are going,” Edith said when Niels took her arm and turned to walk her toward his horse.

“What would be on yer list o’ things to accomplish? After weaving the mats that the women will have done in no time even without yer help,” he added quickly.

Edith reached down to scratch Laddie behind the ear when he moved up to her side and nudged her leg. But her mind was on anything that might need doing at the keep. She’d need to talk to Jaimie about the menu for the next little while, although he’d apparently done well enough without her input these past weeks. She did need to find out what he needed her to buy for him on market day in the village though. But she could do that tomorrow or the next day. Market day was held in the village every week on Saturday. It was now only Monday.

Other than that, things seemed to have progressed nicely in the keep despite her illness. The servants were well trained and knew what to do. They’d also apparently been good about doing the day-to-day tasks without supervision, although she suspected Tormod had something to do with that. She didn’t doubt for a minute that he had run herd on them in her absence, which she appreciated. So while she was sure there were other things to do, she wouldn’t know what needed doing until she had a good look around. Really, the rushes had been the only thing that had needed urgent attention. The smell of them was unbearable.

Mind you that had made bathing Laddie a rather urgent issue . . . and Ronson . . . as well as finding the boy a clean tartan. Niels could use a bath and fresh tartan too after his night on the moldy rushes, but she could hardly order him to bathe. And then Edith would like to bathe herself. She’d wanted a bath since waking but hadn’t ordered one because she refused to bathe in front of the Buchanan brothers and they had seemed to have taken root permanently in her bedchamber. At least Niels had. Rory had spent as much time in Effie’s room as her own. And Geordie and Alick had left to ride to MacDonnell, but Niels still insisted she needed his protection and refused to leave her alone, even in her chamber.