Edith stared at her blankly for a minute, and then turned and buried her face in Niels’s chest. Quite sure she was crying, although she was doing it silently, Niels patted her back helplessly.
“There now, see?” Ronson’s grandmother crooned, patting her knee again. “Have a good cry and forget about whatever nonsense Cawley was spewing. ’Twill all be fine.”
Niels’s eyes widened in alarm when he heard a smothered wail against his chest and he began to pat her back with both hands.
“Yer that Lord Niels fella my grandson’s taken such a shine too, are ye no’?” the woman asked suddenly.
Niels nodded distractedly, quite sure he could feel dampness on his chest now.
“Yer no’ the one teaching him all those cuss words, are ye?”
Freezing, he turned guilty eyes to the woman. Noting the sudden tension in her face and the unpleasant squint she was eyeing him with, he swallowed and said, “Er . . .”
“Good,” the old woman said, her body relaxing and a smile wreathing her face. “I suspected a fine lord like yerself would no’ sink to using such foul language as I’ve heard come out o’ me sweet boy the last few days. Still, I’d a taken a switch to ye fer teaching him such and the like anyway if that were the case, lord or no’,” she said firmly. “So it’s glad I am it was no’ you.”
Sitting back in her seat, she poked the tip of the thread she held through the eye of a needle as she added, “It was probably that Cawley. I’ll have to have a talk with him later about it. I’ll no’ take the switch to him though,” she reassured them when Edith wailed louder into his chest. “He’s no’ right in the head that one and does no’ ken better. But I’ll tell him in no uncertain terms to watch his tongue around the boy from now on, I will.”
Still patting Edith’s back, Niels stared at the woman in bewilderment, not sure what to say, and then turned with relief when he spotted Geordie and Alick rushing toward him. Arms tightening around Edith, he stood and moved to meet them.
“What did Rory find?” he asked as soon as they paused.
“He’s dead,” Alick murmured, dragging his gaze from Edith in Niels’s arms.
“Nay! Really?” Niels asked with feigned surprise.
Geordie choked on a laugh, and then coughed to clear his throat and said, “He’s thinking we all need to have a little sit-down and a chat, but somewhere we’ll no’ be overheard.”
Niels nodded grimly and then shifted his attention to Edith as she sniffled and hiccuped into his shirt. Sighing, he said, “Edith’s room then, and tell Rory to bring something to make Edith sleep. She’s overset.”
For some reason, that set her to crying again. Frowning, Niels pressed her to his chest and began to bounce her lightly in his arms as he rubbed her back now, trying to soothe her.
“I’ll tell him to bring enough fer the both o’ ye,” Geordie said dryly and when Niels appeared surprised, he pointed out. “Yer bouncing her around like a bairn what needs burping, Niels.”
Niels stopped bouncing her and scowled. “Just tell him to bring Tormod too,” he muttered and then turned to head for the stairs.
He’d carried Edith up the steps to the upper landing and along the hall to her room before she said anything, and then she pushed away from his chest and peered up at him through deep green pools of sorrow.
“I’m sorry, m’lord. I do no’ ken why I’m crying. I did no’ even cry when me father and brothers died. There was so much to do and . . .” She shook her head helplessly.
“Then that’s probably why, lass,” Niels said, pressing her face back to his chest and reaching to open the door to her room. “Ye never got the chance to grieve properly and now it’s all just hitting ye at once.”
“Mayhap,” Edith agreed on a sigh and shook her head against his chest. “Poor Cawley. He was such a gentle soul. And there was so much blood. What happened?”
“Rory’ll tell us when he comes,” Niels murmured, kicking the door closed and crossing to sit on the side of the bed with her in his lap again. He had spotted the hilt of a knife in the man’s chest, just peeking out from the folds of his tartan, but had no intention of telling her that until he had his brothers to back him up. Niels had no idea what to do with a crying woman. Saidh had never cried growing up. Well, except when their parents had died. She’d cried then and, come to think of it, none of them had known what the hell to do about it then either, so they’d just left her to sort it out herself and waited for her to come find them once the storm was over so they could distract her, and themselves, from their sorrow.
That was it, Niels realized. He needed to distract Edith from her sorrow, he thought and immediately had an idea about how to do it. Well, he knew how he’d like to do it anyway. He’d wanted to kiss her again ever since the incident at the loch. Unfortunately, his better side was asking if that was really suitable to the moment. Unleashing his lust on her when she was grieving might not be the most—
“Niels?”
“Hmm?” he asked, glancing down distractedly when she leaned back to peer up at him.
“Will ye please kiss me again?”
Niels blinked and then shook his head and marveled, “’Tis as if ye’re reading me mind, lass.”
“It is?” Edith asked with confusion.
“Oh, aye, ’tis,” he assured her and then lowered his head to claim her mouth, only to freeze before their lips met as a loud “ahem” filled the room.
Pausing, they both turned to stare blankly at Moibeal.
Blushing to the roots of her hair, the young maid began to sidle toward the door. “I’ll just finish cleaning the room later and leave now, shall I?”
“Aye,” Niels growled even as Edith whispered the word.
Nodding and bobbing, the maid reached the door, opened it, smiled and then slid quickly out.
Sighing, Niels turned and smiled at Edith, then started to lower his head again, only to pause as a knock sounded at the door.
“Moibeal,” Edith complained.
“Moibeal just headed below,” Geordie announced, opening the door and sticking his head in. “Should I call her back?”
“Nay.” The word was a near squeal as Edith scrambled off Niels’s lap.
Niels sighed to himself. He had no idea why she was so embarrassed to be caught in his arms. He’d been carrying her around downstairs and holding her in his lap in front of all and sundry just minutes ago and it hadn’t seemed to bother her then. Now, however, she was reacting as if they’d been caught being naughty.
Mind you, a couple of more minutes and they might very well have been caught being naughty, Niels acknowledged. Because he knew without a doubt that a simple kiss would not have been enough for him. Given another five minutes alone with Edith and her sweet mouth, and Geordie would have really interrupted something. Niels would have had her on her back on the bed and his hands would have been all over her.
Unfortunately, they’d never even managed the kiss, and it seemed obvious he’d have to wait until later to distract Edith with them.
Chapter 7
“Stabbed?” Edith said slowly, her mind unable to comprehend what Rory was saying. “Someone stabbed Cawley?”
“Aye. With this,” Rory said and held up a black-handled dirk.
“That’s my father’s,” Edith gasped, moving quickly forward to stare at the ornate ruby-topped handle. She could hardly believe it.
“Are ye sure?” Niels asked, moving to her side to peer at the weapon.
“O’ course. ’Tis one o’ a kind. I’d no’ mistake it fer another,” she murmured, her gaze sliding over the weapon again. She’d always thought it beautiful, but now, with Cawley’s blood still on it, the beauty was somehow tarnished.
Turning, she walked to the bed and sat on the end of it. “Who did it?”
The men all glanced at each other silently, and then Tormod said, “No one kens.”
“What?” she asked with dismay. “But there were a ton o’ servants in the kitchen.”
“Aye, and every one o’ them was watching the food to be sure no one poisoned it,” Tormod said grimly. “No one was paying attention to Cawley. They just left him to sit in his corner eating the pastries Jaimie made fer him and . . .” He shrugged helplessly. “No one saw a thing until Cawley tumbled off the barrel he was sitting on and began to bleed on the stone floor, and they said no one was near him when that happened.”
“How could no one have been near him?” she asked with disbelief. “Someone had to have stabbed him.”
“He was stabbed in the heart, Edith,” Rory said softly. “He died almost at once. He may have sat in a stunned state for a count of three or ten before dying and tumbling from the barrel, or may have died leaning up against the wall and only tumbled from it afterward. Either way would have given whoever stabbed him a chance to slip away.”
“Aye,” Edith breathed the word out and then rubbed her forehead before asking, “But why would anyone kill Cawley? He was harmless.”
There was silence and then Niels said, “He was yer father’s brother?”