Surrender to the Highlander(52)

“What trap?” she asked with interest.

“The one where we leave yer drink alone in the chamber where Alick is hiding and can witness yer would-be murderer dousing it,” he said and then asked, “Did ye no’ notice that Alick did no’ come down with the rest o’ us? No one kens he’s here but the two guards in the hall and they’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

“Oh.” She nodded, recalling the plan he’d mentioned that morning. It seemed so far away now.

“How old would yer aunt be were she still alive?” Niels asked suddenly.

“Ealasaid and Glynis were seven and ten years younger than me father,” she said and then explained, “Grandmother lost several bairns after Father before Ealasaid was born.”

Niels shook his head with disappointment at this news. “Bessie is ancient, Edith. She could no’ be yer father’s sister. She’s also deaf as can be, hunched with age and . . .” He shook his head again. “I’m no’ sure she could manage a bow and arrow any better than Effie would have.”

“Ronson said she is good with a bow and arrow and hunted up their food every night on the way to Drummond,” Edith told him solemnly, and then frowned and said, “And she . . .”

“What?” he asked when she hesitated.

“Well, she does seem terribly old, but Ronson said she carried him on the walk here. And while she seems deaf as a wooden post, and blind too most o’ the time, she’s never had a problem threading her needles, and there are times she’s heard me mutter things under me breath that she should no’ have been able to were she as deaf as she often seems to be.”

“Ye think she’s feigning being that old,” he said with realization.

Edith nodded. “I think we need to talk to her, husband.”

“Wife, she’s no’ going to just admit to everything. ’Twould mean her hanging fer murder,” Niels pointed out.

“Aye.” Frowning, she glanced away, trying to figure out how to prove what she suspected was true. Or prove it wasn’t true.

“We could test her,” Niels said suddenly.

“How?” Edith asked at once.

He thought briefly and then suggested, “Throw something at her and see if she is quick enough to prevent it hitting her. Or we ride back and you run inside and say Ronson has been hurt something terrible and see if she moves more swiftly to get outside to him than she should.”

“That might work,” she said with a slow smile. “That last one especially. Whatever else is true about her, she does seem to love Ronson.”

“Aye. And if that does no’ work, we’ll chain her up in the oubliette and make her tell us the truth,” Niels decided grimly, and then caught her by the waist and lifted her up in the saddle. The moment she was settled, he turned and shouted, “Ronson! Come! We’re leaving.”

Edith glanced around sharply at that, and quickly shouted, “Nay!”

Ronson paused, halfway to his feet and then straightened uncertainly and peered from her to Niels.

“Stay there,” she said, and quickly dismounted again as Niels turned to her in question. He was quick enough to catch her by the waist and ease her to the ground, and Edith murmured a “thank ye,” and then turned toward him.

“I thought ye wanted to talk to Bessie?” he said once she was facing him.

“Aye, but we can no’ take Ronson back for it. She’s his grandmother,” she said anxiously. “’Twould be terribly upsetting to him, especially if we end up having her dragged away to the oubliette by the soldiers.”

“Aye, I suppose ye’re right,” Niels murmured, and then frowned. “But I do no’ like the idea o’ his being left here on his own. Even with Laddie.”

“Nay,” Edith agreed. “So ye’ll just have to stay here with him while I go question her.”

“The hell I will,” Niels said at once, his voice just this side of a roar. “If anyone is staying here with the boy, ’tis you.”

Edith narrowed her eyes grimly and her chin came up. “’Tis me father, brothers and uncle that she killed. I want to be there when she is questioned.”

Niels ran a hand around his neck and scowled briefly, but then stilled and lowered his hand. “All right. I’ll no’ talk to her until ye’re there. I’ll ride back to the castle, find Bessie and quietly escort her down to the oubliette. I’ll lock her up in one o’ the cells down there and then ride right back to get the two o’ ye. That way Ronson’ll no’ see anything to alarm him, and ye’ll get to question her with me.”

Edith considered the suggestion slowly and then nodded her head. “But promise me ye’ll take Tormod and yer brothers with ye when ye look fer Bessie and lock her up.”

“I can handle one little old woman, wife,” he said stiffly.

“She’s killed a lot o’ people, husband. I’d rather ye were no’ counted among their number. So promise me,” she insisted.

“Aye, fine,” Niels said with exasperation. “I’ll take me brothers and Tormod with me to look fer her.”

“Thank ye,” Edith whispered.

Nodding, he turned toward his horse and then paused and swung back, removing his sword as he did. “Take this.”

Edith accepted the weapon, but frowned. “What if ye need it?”

“I’ll be riding fast both ways, Edith. I’ll no’ need it. But I do no’ like leaving ye out here alone and unarmed . . . even fer the short while I expect to be gone.”

“I’m never unarmed, husband, I carry me sgian-dubh at all times,” Edith reminded him solemnly, and then added, “Besides, I’m hardly alone. I’ll have Laddie and Ronson with me, and we’ve often come here together without coming to harm.”

“Just hold on to me sword,” Niels ordered, and then bent to press a quick kiss to her lips before finally mounting his beast. Glancing down at her then, he shook his head. “I do no’ like leaving ye here.”

“I’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Just hurry.”

“Aye,” he sighed, and then nodded one last time and urged his horse away.

Edith watched him until he disappeared into the trees and then turned to walk back to the furs. Ronson was lying down again with his eyes closed, she saw, and Laddie had snuck onto the furs to curl up next to him. She considered prodding the dog and making him get off the furs, but it looked to her like Ronson had dozed off and she didn’t want to risk waking the boy. Leaving the dog alone, she settled on the fur next to the pair, laid her husband’s sword beside her and eyed the boy sadly.

Ronson was a good lad, and for his sake she almost hoped she was wrong about his grandmother being behind the deaths at Drummond. But Edith suspected she wasn’t. Although, what she thought that she’d learned brought up more questions than answers. If Bessie was Ealasaid still alive, why had her father been told she was dead? Had any of them died? Were Glynis and their mother still alive? Probably not the mother now, she acknowledged. And had her father even really been told Ealasaid and the others were dead? Edith wanted to believe he wouldn’t have lied about something like that, but after everything that had happened, she didn’t know what to think.

And then there was the other part of it . . . if Bessie was Ealasaid, and her father had been as close to his sisters as her mother had claimed, how had he not recognized her when she came to Drummond? More importantly, why would she kill him?

Edith was lost in such thoughts when Laddie suddenly lunged from the furs, barking and making a beeline for the woods on the edge of the clearing across from her.

“Laddie!” Ronson cried sleepily, on his feet before he was even quite awake. “Come back.”

“Ronson, no!” Edith shouted, and tried to catch his arm, but the boy was almost as quick as the dog and was off across the clearing before she could stop him. Cursing, she stood to hurry after him, but paused abruptly after only a couple of steps when she heard Ronson cry, “Gran! What are ye doing here?”

“I just wanted to be sure ye washed behind yer ears.”

Frozen to the spot, Edith heard that response and then backed slowly to the furs and bent to pick up the sword by its hilt. Gripping it tightly, she watched the woods, simply waiting, and then tensed further when Ronson led his grandmother out of the trees and toward her with Laddie nipping at their heels.

To say that Ronson’s grandmother looked vexed was something of an understatement. She was eyeing Laddie like she’d like to kill and skin the poor beast, Edith noticed. More importantly, in her vexation, she was walking straight and at a normal pace, rather than in the slow, hunched-over manner she usually used. Even as Edith noted that, the woman began to slouch and lean forward, her pace slowing. She also changed her expression to a more servile attitude as she turned her attention to Edith.

“Oh, m’lady. ’Twas such a long walk to get out here,” she said waving her hand before her face as if she felt quite faint from the exertion. As well she should. This spot was a good distance from the keep. Too far for her to have walked here in the time since Edith, Niels and Ronson had left the keep. She must have a horse somewhere nearby, Edith thought to herself.