Surrender to the Highlander(50)

Edith stared at him blankly. Those were the very last words she’d expected to hear come out of his mouth as she’d watched him approach.

“Ronson!” Niels called, and Edith followed his gaze to the boy who was following his grandmother to her chair. The lad cast a hopeful glance their way at the call.

“Aye, m’laird?” he asked, hurrying toward them with Laddie on his heels.

“You and Laddie need another bath. How the devil did ye get so dirty?” he added with exasperation. “Ye’ve mud from yer shins to yer withers.”

“We were playing,” Ronson said as if that should explain everything.

“Well, go tell yer grandmother we’re going to the loch to clean the two o’ ye up,” Niels said, and then told Edith, “I’ll ready me horse. Ye may want to gather some linens and fresh clothes while I do.”

He was off heading for the keep doors before she could respond. Edith pursed her lips as she watched him go, and then stood and hurried above stairs, aware that Cameron and Fearghas were following.

Edith collected fresh clothes for herself and Niels, and linens for all three of them to dry off with, but she also grabbed soap and some furs as well. She rolled the furs and tied them with string while Moibeal stuffed everything else in a sack for her. She was hurrying back downstairs in no time.

Cameron and Fearghas both offered to carry the items for her as they followed her from their position where they’d waited outside the bedchamber, but Edith just shook her head and kept going. She was glad she had when Tormod called the two men to him as they hurried down the stairs. Cameron and Fearghas slowed and looked to her, but she waved them on.

“Go ahead. I’ll just go peek out the doors and see if me husband is ready yet.”

Nodding, the men rushed toward Tormod as they hit the bottom of the steps, and Edith turned to hurry to the keep doors. Hefting the sack over her shoulder, she pushed one door open and peered out, her eyebrows rising when she saw Niels coming up the stairs, a shield in hand. His horse was at the foot of the stairs with Laddie lying beside it in the dirt, and Ronson standing in front, holding the reins.

“Where are yer guards?” Niels asked when she pushed out of the keep with her items.

“Tormod called them over to the table. I said I’d just look and see if ye were ready.”

Niels nodded, and then took the rolled furs from her, tucked them under his arm and grabbed the sack as well. Raising the shield over her head, he said, “Come on. We’ll go without them this time. I want to talk.”

He ushered her quickly down the stairs, handed her the shield to hold over her own head and then lifted her up onto the saddle. Edith almost tried to sit sidesaddle, but at the last moment thumbed her nose at propriety and shifted her legs so that she landed astride. Niels then quickly attached the sack and furs to his saddle before lifting Ronson up to sit in her lap. A moment after that he was in the saddle behind her and steering the horse out of the bailey.

“Ye can lower the shield now,” Niels said once they were beyond the wall.

Edith lowered it with relief and let it hang beside them so it rested against her leg. It had been awkward holding it up like that. It had kept bumping into Niels’s face. She’d tried to prevent it from happening, but bouncing around on the horse made it hard.

They didn’t talk on the way out to the loch. Niels had the horse moving at a speed that made that difficult, but Edith didn’t mind. She was enjoying the feeling of the cool wind in her hair and the heat of Niels’s body behind her. So much so that she was almost sorry when they arrived at the loch and had to dismount.

“I’ll set up the furs if ye want to get in the water,” Niels suggested as he set her on the ground.

Edith smiled faintly, but shook her head. She planned to swim with him and Ronson this time, not by herself constantly anxious that she might be seen in her chemise. She’d still wear her chemise since Ronson was with them, but wasn’t shy about her husband seeing her in it. She helped him unroll and lay out the furs, and then gathered the linens and fresh clothes and hung them from the branch she’d used last time.

Once done, Edith undid the ties of her gown and slid it off, surprised when Niels groaned behind her.

“Ah, lass,” he sighed, moving toward her. “Ye make it hard to think when ye do stuff like that.”

“Like what?” she asked on a breathless laugh as he slipped his arms around her from behind and pulled her back against his chest. Edith nestled against him briefly, enjoying the contact, but when his hands began to rise toward her breasts, she caught them and whispered, “Behave. Ronson is here.”

“Aye,” Niels sighed. Releasing her, he added dryly, “And I was fool enough to invite him too.”

Edith chuckled at the comment and started into the water.

It was much more fun swimming with Ronson and Niels than without, she decided as they splashed and played in the water. This time she got to enjoy it with them rather than listen to them have fun. She even enjoyed washing Laddie, despite his jumping on her and dunking her under the water twice. But eventually they had to get out.

“There ye are,” Edith said brightly as she followed Ronson out of the water. “Yer clean as a newborn babe now. That should please yer grandmother.”

“Thank goodness,” Ronson growled with childish annoyance. “I thought she’d fair have a fit when she came out o’ the garderobe and saw me.”

“The garderobe again?” Edith teased with amusement.

“Aye. I told ye, she’s always in there,” Ronson complained, accepting the linen Edith handed him and beginning to dry himself off. “She was heading in when she sent me out to play, and was just coming out when I came back in.”

Edith paused with the linen half-wrapped around herself and peered at the boy as he dropped the linen and donned the clean, if worn, clothes his grandmother had sent with him. His words replayed in her head as she watched him. But when Niels caught up to them, she started moving again and finished wrapping the linen around herself. Holding it in place with one hand, she left Niels to dry off and dress in his shirt and tartan and followed the boy to the furs, saying lightly, “Tell me about your grandmother, Ronson.”

He turned to look at her blankly, and then dropped onto the furs and asked, “Tell ye what about her?”

Edith hesitated, unsure herself what she was hoping to learn, but then suggested, “Tell me about yer life ere ye came to Drummond.”

She’d meant for him to tell her about his home ere coming to Drummond, but he misunderstood and told her about his more immediate life before arriving here. Grimacing unhappily, he said, “Well, we walked fer a long time. I thought me feet’d fall off we walked so long.”

“What about the other castles ye stopped at on the way?” Edith asked. Bessie had told her they’d stopped at every castle between here and their old home in northern England, but no one would take them in.

Ronson peered at her with bewilderment. “There were no other castles, m’lady. None I saw anyway. All there was on the way here were woods and more woods. We did no’ even pass anyone else traveling.”

“I see,” Edith murmured. Bessie had obviously lied. Either the castle they’d come from hadn’t been in the north of England as Bessie had said, or they’d stayed off the paths and trails to avoid running into others. That was possible and would have saved them getting robbed or attacked by bandits, but it would have been slower going and had its own dangers. They were lucky they’d avoided being attacked by wild wolves and bears on their way to Drummond.

“Do ye remember how many nights ye slept on the way here, Ronson?” she asked abruptly.

He paused and considered the question, and then shook his head. “Too many to count. Hundreds maybe.”

Edith seriously doubted it had been hundreds, but she also didn’t think the boy could count yet. Or if he could, he probably couldn’t count too high. But his answer told her they must have traveled a good distance.

“Winter had just ended when we started,” he added suddenly. “’Twas terrible cold still.”

Edith nodded and relaxed a little. Ronson and his grandmother had been traveling quite a while to get to Drummond. Perhaps even as much as a couple of months. That seemed a bit much, but . . . It was late July, however they’d arrived at Drummond in late May. If they started their journey at the end of March . . . She frowned, but supposed they could have been walking that long. Ronson had little legs and was young, his stride would have been much smaller and they would have had to travel much slower than two adults . . . and apparently they’d done so without stopping once at any of the castles or villages along the way.

Mouth tight, she asked, “What did ye eat on the way to Drummond?”

“Gran always went out and hunted up a rabbit or a bird after we stopped fer the day,” he said and then added proudly, “She’s a fair hand with the bow. So was me ma. Ma used to take me hunting with her. She promised me she’d teach me to use the bow just like Gran taught her, but then she died.” Ronson paused briefly, and then as Niels finished dressing and came to join them on the furs, the boy added sadly, “I miss me ma.”