Surrender to the Highlander(51)

“I imagine ye do,” Edith said, but asked, “What about the last castle ye lived at ere Drummond? Do ye remember that?”

“Aye.” He reached out to pet Laddie when the dog dropped onto the grass beside the furs and was silent for a minute, but then said, “It was okay. We had the nicest cottage in the village, Gran and Ma and me. But Ma was always having to go up to the castle cause the laird wanted her to work. It made Gran curse something awful when he sent his men fer her. She said he was a rapping bastard, or something.”

Edith’s eyebrows rose. “Do ye mean raping?”

“Aye.” Ronson’s brow cleared. “That was it. He was a raping bastard.”

Edith sat back briefly, and then asked, “What was yer mother’s name?”

“Wife,” Niels growled under his breath.

“Glynis,” Ronson said with a smile. “She was ever so pretty, m’lady. And she was no’ always off in the garderobe like Gran. She liked to play with me.” He frowned. “At least she did when she was no’ too sore.”

“Too sore?” she asked, ignoring the scowl Niels was directing at her.

“Aye. Ma was always falling down and bumping into things while working fer the laird and coming back sore and bruised. She could no’ play with me then,” he said sadly.

“Is that how she died?” Edith asked. “Falling down or bumping into something?”

“Aye, she fell off the cliff,” Ronson said unhappily. “’Twas terrible. She must no’ have realized how close she was. She just walked right off o’ it. I tried to warn her. I shouted and yelled and ran as fast as I could trying to catch up to warn her, but she did no’ hear me and I could no’ run fast enough.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Ronson,” Niels said gently, “But I’m sure she kens ye tried to warn her.”

The boy grunted, and began scratching Laddie behind the ear, making the dog’s leg start kicking in the air.

Edith watched silently for a minute and then asked, “Is that when ye left?”

“Wife,” Niels snapped now, obviously wanting her to stop asking these questions of the boy. Fortunately, Ronson answered anyway.

“Aye. The old laird came down and told Gran we had to leave,” he muttered with a scowl, and then said, “But I think he must have meant someone else.”

“Meant someone else to leave ye mean?” Edith asked uncertainly.

“Aye. I think he was mixing us up with someone else. He did no’ even ken Gran’s name. He kept calling her Ealasaid.”

Edith stared at Ronson, a sound like rushing water in her ears as she tried to grasp what he’d said. When the sound began to recede, she finally said carefully, “Lad, did ye say he called her Ealasaid?”

“Aye.” Ronson scowled. “She was so angry at him I do no’ think she even noticed. But I did, and after he left I tried to tell her he was confused and she should go up to the castle and explain it to him, but Gran just told me to hush and go to bed and sleep, we were leaving at first light.”

Ronson grimaced and admitted, “I think mayhap she was a bit overset by it all, because while she packed she kept muttering about going home, but we were home,” he said earnestly and then heaved out another breath. “Anyway, then we left and walked all the way here, and it was hard, m’lady. The hardest thing I’ve done in me whole life. Sometimes I fell asleep on me feet and woke up to find Gran carrying me. I was ever so glad when we got here and ye let us stay.”

Edith smiled crookedly, but had no idea what to say to that. She liked Ronson a great deal, but at that moment she couldn’t honestly say she was glad that he and his grandmother had come to Drummond and that she’d let them stay. In that moment, she was quite sure it had been the biggest mistake of her life.

“Did ye—” she began.

“Ronson,” Niels interrupted her grimly. “I need to have a word with me wife. We’ll only be over there by the horse. Stay here until we return.”

“Aye, m’laird,” Ronson said through a yawn, and then flopped onto his back on the furs to stare up at the sky overhead.





Chapter 16




Edith eyed Niels with curiosity as he led her to his mount. He seemed terribly angry, and she got the feeling it was with her, though she couldn’t imagine why. Until they reached his horse and he turned on her to demand in a growl, “What are ye doing making the lad talk about such upsetting matters?”

“Did ye hear what he said?” Edith asked with amazement, for while he’d missed the part about Bessie being so handy with a bow and arrow, he’d been there when the boy had said the names Ealasaid and Glynis.

“Aye. His poor mother was most like raped by their last laird and driven to take her own life. The old bastard then threw out Ronson and his poor old grandmother and they walked fer what must have been weeks to get here to Drummond.”

“And the names?” she asked.

Her question brought him up short, and Niels frowned and asked, “What names?”

Edith gave a huff of impatience. “His mother for one.”

Niels’s mouth twisted and he glanced down briefly, obviously trying to recall. Finally, he shrugged and said, “Glenna?”

“Glynis,” she corrected. “Me father’s sisters’ names were Glynis and Ealasaid,” she reminded him.

“Oh . . . aye,” he said finally, and glanced back to Ronson with a frown. “But Ronson’s grandmother’s name is Bessie.”

“Bessie is what ye call a child or an old woman named Elizabeth,” she pointed out patiently. “And Elizabeth is English fer—”

“Ealasaid,” he finished for her with realization.

“Aye. Which is what the old laird called her,” Edith reminded him and turned to peer at the boy. His eyes were closed now, though his foot was wagging, so she knew he was awake.

“And yer father’s name was Ronald,” Niels murmured, following her gaze to Ronson.

“And he said his grandmother kept muttering about going home,” Edith added grimly.

“Aye.” He stared at Ronson briefly and then shook his head. “But ye said yer father’s sisters were dead.”

“That is what I was told,” Edith said solemnly.

“So . . . could this all be a strange coincidence?” he asked doubtfully.

Edith shook her head. “Ronson has complained to me a time or two about how much time his grandmother spends in the garderobes. He said she spends the better part o’ the night in there,” she told him quietly. “I just assumed it was a result o’ age. But when we were coming out o’ the loch today, I commented on how his gran would be pleased that he was so clean, and he mentioned that she’d told him to go out and play on her way into the garderobe and when he returned from playing, she near had a fit when she came out o’ the garderobe and saw him.”

Niels shook his head, obviously not sure what that had to do with anything.

“When I came below after leaving ye and the men to search the bedchambers and tunnels, the hall was nearly empty. There were the two guards at the kitchen door, and perhaps a handful o’ servants at the tables including Moibeal, but Ronson and Laddie were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Bessie.”

“Ronson was probably already out in the bailey playing with Laddie, and Bessie was in the garderobe,” he said easily.

“Aye, that’s what ye’d think, but the minute I got below I checked each o’ the garderobes in search o’ the hidden entrance Tormod mentioned and each one was empty.”

Niels stilled. “She could no’ have been in the kitchen.”

“Nay. The guards would no’ have allowed her past. And she could no’ have gone above stairs, the men were guarding the landing and hallway to prevent it,” she pointed out.

“Ye think she kens about the passages because Bessie is yer father’s sister Ealasaid and that Ronson’s mother was not her daughter, but her sister Glynis,” he reasoned slowly.

“Nay. I suspect Bessie is Ealasaid, and that Ronson’s mother really was Bessie’s daughter, but she named her Glynis after her sister. They were quite close apparently.”

Niels nodded, and then said, “And ye think the boy was named after yer father?”

Edith nodded.

“But ye think Bessie has been sneaking through the passages up to yer father’s room and sleeping there?”

“I think she’s been doing more than that,” Edith said quietly. “I gather me father’s mother was very skilled with healing and poisons and was teaching Ealasaid and Glynis everything she knew ere they all died. Or ere they supposedly died,” she added dryly.

“So, she could have kenned enough about weeds to poison everyone,” Niels murmured, and then his mouth tightened and he added, “And her being skilled with healing means she’d have kenned where the heart was and the best way to stab to stop it too.”

Edith nodded. “I ken the men want to blame Effie fer all that has happened here, but as I told Rory, Effie—”

“Had palsy in her hands and arms and could no’ aim straight. Aye, he told us when we found the bow and poisons under the bed,” Niels admitted and explained, “We had already decided that Effie could no’ be the culprit before we got word she was dead. But we still had no clue who it could be, so we decided to pretend we believed it in the hopes that the real culprit would relax enough to make a mistake as well as perhaps fall into the trap we planned.”