Moibeal snorted at the suggestion. “’Tis more like he did no’ like leaving you. He slept in the chair by yer bed, on the floor and even in the hall across yer doorstep every night even before ye married,” she pointed out dryly. “’Twas no’ that he did no’ like Hamish’s room. I do no’ think he even ever saw it.”
“Oh,” Edith murmured, and then turned and headed for the door. “Well, we may as well go take a look at the laird’s chamber and see what shape ’tis in then. ’Twill pass the time while we wait for my bath to come.”
“Aye, I heard Cameron shout for a bath,” Moibeal said with amusement, following her to the door.
Edith nodded. “I am a bit stiff and he suggested it to ease my aches.”
Cameron and Fearghas straightened abruptly when Edith opened the door and stepped out.
“We are just taking a quick look at me father’s room,” Edith explained as she stepped into the hall. The two men nodded and fell into step behind her and Moibeal as they walked up the hall.
The laird’s chamber was twice the size of the rest of the rooms, taking up the whole end of the hall. Edith opened the door, entered and then paused abruptly. She’d expected the room to feel empty. Not literally. But the few times she’d traveled for any length of time, she’d returned to find her room feeling cold and empty, and smelling stale. She’d always assumed it was because the fire had been unlit for so long and no one had lived in the room. But her father’s room had been empty for near a month, yet smelled of smoke and . . . was that lavender?
“Why is the room warm?” Moibeal asked. “And what is that smell? Is it flowers?”
“Lavender, I think,” Edith murmured, and then glanced to the floor to see bits of the dried flower strewn about.
“Yer father’s room never smelled o’ lavender ere this,” Moibeal pointed out, even as Edith thought it.
Cameron and Fearghas had been standing at the door, but now moved into the room. Cameron went straight to the fireplace and grabbed the poker. Dropping to his haunches then, he poked around in the hearth.
“Someone has been sleeping in the bed,” Moibeal said grimly, drawing her attention. The maid was peeking through the closed curtains around the bed, but now tugged them open to reveal the disordered linens and furs.
“Are ye sure they were no’ just left like that after me father was removed?” Edith asked, moving to the bed.
“Nay. I stripped the bed meself while ye tended Hamish,” Moibeal told her. “The bed was bare and the bed curtains open when I last saw this room.”
“Someone has obviously been sleeping in here,” Cameron said grimly. “And quite recently. These are no’ ashes, they’re embers, m’lady. Someone had a fire in here and ’tis just dying.”
“The old laird’s ghost,” Fearghas said in a fearful whisper.
Seeing Cameron’s eyes widen at the suggestion, Edith scowled at Fearghas. “Nay. Me father never liked lavender. He said it made him sad. Besides, Fearghas, there is no such thing as ghosts, and if there were, they’d hardly need a fire. The person sleeping in here is a living one. Probably Geordie or Niels moved in here fer some reason.”
“If that were the case, the fire would no’ be hot. They slept outside yer door this morn,” Cameron reminded her.
“Well, Rory then,” she said with exasperation and took one last look around before heading for the door. “Come along, me bath is probably on its way by now, if no’ already waiting.”
Her bedroom door was open and servants were busily pouring in buckets of steaming water when Edith led the trio back to her room. She expected Cameron and Fearghas to wait in the hall, but they entered and stood on either side of her until the servants had finished and left. Only once she and Moibeal were all who remained did they nod and return to the hall, pulling the door closed behind them.
“Ye do no’ really think yer husband’s brother has been sleeping in yer father’s room, do ye?” Moibeal asked as she helped her undress.
Edith sighed at the question, but didn’t answer right away. The truth was, she didn’t. She doubted very much if Rory would trouble himself to spread flowers on the floor to scent the rushes. However, she didn’t want the castle to suddenly fill with tales of her father’s ghost inhabiting his old room either. She didn’t need maids afraid to clean the room once she and Niels moved to it. Especially when it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. There was no such thing as ghosts, she told herself. Besides, her father really had hated lavender. It would be the last thing his ghost would scent the room with.
“M’lady.”
“Hmm?” Edith glanced to Moibeal and sighed as she realized the girl was still waiting for her answer. Sighing, she stepped into the hot water, wincing at just how hot it was, and then eased to sit down. It was so hot it stole her breath for a moment, but once she’d adjusted, she sighed and said, “’Tis no’ me father’s ghost, Moibeal.”
“Oh, I ken that,” she said at once, a little too quickly. “But do ye really think ’tis Lord Rory?”
“I do no’ ken,” she said rather than admit she doubted that. Much as the girl denied it, Edith knew Moibeal was as superstitious as the next person. “I shall ask him later.”
“Aye,” the maid said and asked. “Shall I wash yer hair first?”
“Aye, please,” Edith murmured.
Moibeal helped to wash her hair, then left her to her bath and quickly collected her discarded clothes.
Edith scrubbed herself up, and then relaxed in the water for a bit. The aches and stiffness were gone, and she was just considering getting out when the bedchamber door opened. Glancing over her shoulder, Edith smiled when she saw that it was Niels. Her smile widened when she saw the pitcher and two goblets he carried.
He smiled in return and then glanced to Moibeal and opened the door wider. The maid understood the silent request at once and hurried out of the room. Niels closed it silently behind her and then carried the pitcher and goblets to the bedside table and poured two glasses.
“I apologize fer taking so long,” he said, setting down the pitcher and crossing the room to collect the large strip of linen Moibeal had left to warm over the chair by the fire. Opening it as he walked toward her, he said, “Rory wanted to speak to me.”
“’Tis fine,” Edith said, gathering her courage to stand up. She knew she shouldn’t be so flustered at the thought of it. He was her husband. And she’d been as good as naked with him in the meadow. She also must have been when they consummated the wedding. However, she felt as shy in that moment as if he’d never even glimpsed a naked ankle, and they’d not even kissed.
Pausing next to the tub, Niels held the towel open for her and said, “Remind me to tell ye about it after.”
“After what?” Edith asked, trying to distract herself as she stood quickly and stepped out of the tub and into the linen. Much to her relief, he closed it around her at once, but much to her surprise, he then picked her up and carried her back to the table and set her on the edge of it right in front of one of the chairs.
Eyeing him with confusion, she opened her mouth to ask him what he was doing, only to find his hands cupping her face as his mouth suddenly covered hers. Hands rising tentatively to his arms, Edith started out simply holding on as he kissed her. But she was quickly clutching at him and kissing him eagerly back.
When his hands slid away from her face and glided down to the top of the linen to unwrap it, Edith gasped. She then moaned into his mouth as his hands found and cupped her breasts so that he could toy with her nipples using a thumb and finger of each hand.
Edith reached for him then, not his plaid, or his shirt. Her hands went straight for the gold, one lifting his plaid so the other could find the hardness waiting beneath. The moment she did, Niels jerked in shock and then was suddenly gone.
Opening her eyes at once, Edith blinked at him as she saw that he’d dropped to sit on the chair and was urging it closer to the table. Her legs had been open with him standing between them, but she started to close them self-consciously now. She never finished the action. Niels caught each under the knee, tugged her closer so that she was half-off the table and had to lean back on her arms to keep from teetering off it. He then pulled her legs farther open and bent to bury his face between them.
Edith cried out at the first flick of his tongue across her eager flesh, but it was followed by many more such cries as he feasted on her. She tried to muffle the sounds she was making, first by covering her mouth with her hand, and then by biting on her middle finger too, but the sounds kept coming. Some were breathless cries, some were pleading gasps, some were almost screeches, but Edith was quite sure the men in the hall probably heard every last one. She was equally sure that everybody in the castle heard her final, delirious scream as her body exploded with pleasure to leave her a stunned, trembling mass lying limp on the tabletop with her head turned toward the fire.
Edith was aware of it when Niels stood and removed his tartan and shirt, but other than roll her eyes toward him to watch, she didn’t seem to have the strength to move. When he then scooped her up, carried her to the large fur in front of the fire and knelt to lay her on it, she caught his arms and then his hands as Niels straightened to kneel beside her. She was trying to hold him to her. But she couldn’t.