“Mayhap Victoria had Effie put some o’ the tonic in yer stew that night ere it was brought up to ye, and the poison was in the tonic,” Rory suggested.
“Effie would hardly then take the poison herself,” Edith pointed out.
“Nay, but mayhap Effie did no’ ken ’twas poison,” Rory said reasonably. “Yer brother may no’ even ken what his wife was up to. It may ha’e been Victoria alone. Perhaps she was determined to be the Lady o’ Drummond as yer brother had promised and was willing to murder to achieve it.”
Edith nodded slowly. That actually seemed possible. She certainly liked it better than the suggestion that Brodie might be behind the deaths. Which meant they had a problem. “Then there is nothing we can do,” she pointed out. “There is no way to prove Victoria poisoned the wine or the stew . . . unless ye can say unequivocally that the tonic had poison in it,” she said and raised an eyebrow in question.
Rory shook his head regretfully. “Nay. There are so many herbs in the tonic, it would be impossible to sort out what poison had been used, or if it was in it.”
“Then unless Effie wakes up to say she put it in me stew, and drank or ate it herself that last day, Victoria will get away with murder,” she pointed out wearily.
“How is Effie doing?” Tormod asked abruptly.
“No change,” Rory said, and then frowned and added, “No change at all in fact, and I would expect there to be. But she seems exactly as she was when we first got here. No stronger but no weaker.”
“Aye, well, ye’re dribbling broth down her throat all the time,” Niels pointed out. “No doubt that’s helping prevent her weakening further.”
“Hmm,” Rory muttered and then merely shook his head and stood. “Speaking o’ which, I suppose ’tis time I went up to do that again.”
“Now?” Tormod asked with surprise. “But what about our coming up with a plan to catch the poisoner?”
“Have ye got a plan?” Rory asked with interest, and when Tormod grimaced, he said, “I’m afraid Edith is right. There’s really no way to prove Victoria did it. At least nothing any of us has come up with yet. I suggest we all think about it tonight and then meet again tomorrow morn and see if anyone has ideas.”
“Agreed,” Edith said.
When Tormod grunted unhappy agreement, Rory nodded and turned to leave the table.
Edith glanced to Niels then, but found him looking toward the fire. Following his gaze she saw Ronson curled up with Laddie next to his grandmother’s feet, sleeping. The trio was surrounded by several women all busily making mats with the last of the rushes that had been collected that day. They were almost done. There weren’t many rushes left now.
Her gaze slid over the fair-haired boy curled up against the large dog and she sighed to herself. Ronson had rushed to his grandmother the moment they’d returned, seeking comfort from his only remaining family member after the trauma of seeing Lonnie dead. Edith hadn’t been surprised. He’d been awfully quiet on the return journey to the keep, merely clutching her tight and shivering. Edith supposed it was the first dead body he’d seen. It surely wouldn’t be his last, although hopefully not under the same circumstances. Tripping over a dead man in the woods had to have been disconcerting for the boy. Besides, he’d known Lonnie a little. The young man was one of the few soldiers who had troubled himself to be nice to the new lad after he and his grandmother had arrived.
“Ye should lay down and rest awhile ere the sup.”
Edith met Niels’s gaze briefly and then glanced shyly away and back to the women by the fire. There was no sense in her bothering to walk over to help them. Judging from experience, it looked to her like they barely had enough rushes to finish the mats they were presently working on.
“Aye, I think I will rest before dinner,” she decided, standing up. Ronson hadn’t been the only one shaken up by the discovery that day and she’d actually like a chance to push it from her thoughts.
“I’ll see ye up and keep an eye out fer trouble,” Niels murmured, taking her arm.
Edith stilled briefly, but continued forward, her heart thudding now in response to the innocent touch. It made her think of his touching her elsewhere, and his kisses as he’d done so, and she wondered if he’d kiss her again once they were in her room. Would he kiss her? Caress her? Would he do other things?
He shouldn’t, her sensible side said staunchly, and Edith knew that side was right, but she wanted him to—she just wasn’t sure what it was she wanted him to do. She’d like more kissing and caressing certainly. Her breasts were already tingling at the thought of his hands on them, his fingers plucking at her tender nipples. And heat was again building between her legs at the thought of him pressing there as he had in the clearing.
Edith could hardly believe they’d behaved that way with Ronson there. Although, he’d fortunately been off running through the woods with Laddie and missed their indiscretion. Still, if he’d returned and caught them—
“Here ye go.”
Edith pulled herself from her thoughts and glanced around with surprise to see that while she’d been distracted, they’d ascended the stairs and arrived at her room.
“Thank ye,” Edith murmured and led the way inside.
When he closed the door softly, she turned to offer him a nervous smile that turned into an O of surprise. She was alone. It seemed there would be no more kisses after all.
Chapter 6
Niels rolled on his side, grimaced as his forehead banged into the wall and then abruptly opened his eyes and sat upright. He’d fallen asleep on the job. He was supposed to be guarding Edith, but had dozed off at some point during the night and had apparently ended up lying down and sprawling on the floor without waking.
Giving his head a shake in an effort to wake up, Niels peered along the hall to the stairs. He could hear the sounds of activity floating up from the great hall below, and wondered what time it was. It must be early yet, he decided, because no one had come out of their rooms. Not Edith, and not any of his brothers. He would have heard if Edith’s door had opened, and his brothers would have made sure he knew they were up by kicking him awake and taunting him mercilessly for falling asleep. So it had to still be quite early.
Niels had barely had the thought when movement drew his gaze toward the stairs. He saw Rory moving up the hall toward him with a bowl in hand. Restraining a groan, Niels wiped his hands over his face and tried to look more alert. It seemed one of his brothers was up and had witnessed his failure in guarding Edith. It made him wonder why Rory hadn’t stopped to wake him up on the way below stairs.
“Good morn, brother,” Rory said cheerfully, stopping beside him.
Drawing one knee up, Niels rested an arm nonchalantly on it and grunted. It was as much of a good morning as he could manage just then.
“Is all well?” Rory asked. “Edith is safe and fine?”
“Aye,” Niels growled.
“Hmm. And how would ye ken that when she’s below stairs breaking her fast with Geordie and Alick and ye’re here?” Rory asked mildly.
Niels’s head whipped toward his brother. “What?”
“Aye, she’s been up and about fer a good hour now, along with everyone else,” he informed him with amusement.
“Well, why the devil did ye no’ wake me?” he snarled, launching himself to his feet.
“Edith would no’ let us. We came out just as she was heading for the stairs and she insisted we no’ wake ye. She said ’twas obvious ye were exhausted what with yer no’ waking when she tripped over ye,” Rory finished acerbically.
Cursing, Niels raced for the stairs, ignoring Rory’s laughter.
Last night had been Niels’s third night guarding her door from the hallway, and he couldn’t believe he’d failed so miserably at it. Although, perhaps he should have expected as much since he hadn’t slept at all the two nights previously. Niels hadn’t been able to find restful sleep since kissing Edith in the clearing. Kissing her had been a huge mistake. Niels had known it even as he’d done it, but hadn’t been able to resist her. She’d been temptation incarnate to him in that clearing. Her hair had looked almost aflame with the sun shining on it, and it had smelled sweet from her bath in the loch. Once his body had brushed against hers as he reached up to help her hang the sack from his saddle, he’d been lost.
Edith hadn’t helped matters much. She’d been like fire in his hands, her mouth clinging eagerly to his, her body responding passionately to his caresses. God, her nipple had been hard before he’d even slipped his hand inside the neckline of her gown to catch and pinch it. And the way she’d thrust into his touch when he’d cupped her between the legs . . . The memory was enough to have him hard even now. At the time Niels had wanted nothing better than to drop to his knees, push her skirt up to her waist and lap up the wet heat he was sure waited for him between her legs. He might even have done that had Ronson’s shriek not brought them both to their senses.
That thought made Niels grimace. At the time, he’d actually managed to forget all about the boy being with them. He had no idea when the lad had left the clearing with Laddie, or what he’d seen before leaving. But Niels thanked God he hadn’t tugged Edith’s neckline down in front of the boy, baring her breasts for easier access as he’d wanted.