Saidh didn't hide her confusion. "The feather?"
Lady MacDonnell set down her sewing, her gaze far away as she explained, "The senior MacIver was an old and dear friend o' me husband's when he lived, and so I attended his wedding to Fenella," she explained. "I was still there in the morning when he was found dead in their bed. Fenella was . . ." She frowned and shook her head. "Well, she was crying, as usual. So meself and several of the other women still present offered to prepare the body fer burial."
Saidh nodded and simply waited for her to continue.
"We were washing the body," she said slowly. "I was working on his face and noted that his eyes were bloodshot."
"Oh?" Saidh didn't have a clue what that might suggest.
Lady MacDonnell seemed to realize that and explained, "Allen was no' me only child. I had three sons ere him, and all o' them died ere they reached a year in age, and all in their sleep. I thought it was me fault, that I was birthing weak babes, but then when Allen was a wee tot, just months old, I woke in the middle o' the night, suddenly anxious o'er him and went to check on him. I caught the wet nurse trying to smother him with a pillow. She confessed she'd done the same to each of my other sons."
"I'm so sorry," Saidh said sincerely, horrified at the tragedies the woman had suffered in her life. She'd lost four sons, all told now.
"Thank ye," Lady MacDonnell said solemnly. "But ye see, me three dead boys had bloodshot eyes too and once I kenned what the maid had done, I did wonder if it were no' somehow a result o' the smothering."
"And Laird MacIver had bloodshot eyes," Saidh said slowly.
Lady MacDonnell nodded. "O' course, that was no proof. Laird MacIver was an old man and his eyes were often bloodshot and rheumy."
"Oh." Saidh nodded again.
"But there was also a goose feather in his mouth, caught at the back o' his tongue," Lady MacDonnell added grimly.
"Ye think Fenella smothered him with a goose?" Saidh asked uncertainly and Lady MacDonnell gave a surprised laugh.
"Nay, me dear, Laird MacIver was wealthy and had had his pillows and mattress stuffed with goose feather and herbs to encourage sweet dreams," she explained.
"Oh." Saidh grimaced and then admitted, "Our pillows were stuffed with wool and rags."
"Ah." Lady MacDonnell said with a smile.
"So ye think Fenella smothered him with his pillow and one o' the feathers was somehow . . ."
"Sucked into his mouth as he gasped fer breath," Lady MacDonnell said quietly. "I now think 'tis a possibility. Although, at the time I just assumed the feather may have been loosed in his efforts to bed Fenella, and that he'd sucked it in then." She grimaced and shook her head. "The senior MacIver was an old man, after all, and 'tis doubtful she'd have had long to wait to be widowed anyway, so why would she take the risk and kill him? Besides, the senior MacIver was only her second husband and the first had been killed by bandits who had struck her down as well."
Saidh bit her lip and held her tongue.
"Even when Laird MacIver's nephew married her and then died so precipitously I did no' think she may ha'e killed either man. After all, the younger MacIver was out riding alone and she was in the castle with his mother and aunt, so 'twas no' as if she could ha'e done it."
"Aye," Saidh muttered, but she was recalling the pin in Joan's horse that had made it go wild and throw her.
"But now me own son has died, a fourth husband in as many years, and that does seem like a ridiculous amount of bad luck fer any lass to suffer." Lady MacDonnell shook her head and sighed. "Mayhap I am just looking fer someone to blame fer me loss. After all, fearing the marital bed made marriage to Allen the perfect situation fer her. She was the wife of the laird, Lady o'er all o' MacDonnell with wealth and position and a fine title. His death leaves her little but dependence on Greer's kindness."
Saidh didn't comment and after a moment, Lady MacDonnell muttered, "But I keep thinking, 'Four dead husbands . . .' and I remember that tale me father used to tell me about the scorpion and the frog when I was a child."
"The scorpion and the frog?" Saidh asked curiously.
"Aye." She smiled faintly. "Me father traveled to foreign lands when young and had many tales to tell. I used to love to sit at his feet or on his knees and listen to him tell them to me siblings and meself. One he liked to tell was about a scorpion who wished to cross a river. O' course, the scorpion could no' swim--a scorpion is apparently a large buglike creature that can kill with its sting," she explained, apparently noting Saidh's confusion.
"Oh," Saidh said with a grimace. She didn't care for bugs much.
"At any rate, the scorpion could no' swim and asked a passing frog to take him o'er the river. The frog refused o' course, saying the scorpion would sting him. But the scorpion argued that o' course he would no', else they'd both drown. So the frog allowed the scorpion to climb on his back and started to swim across the river."
"And the minute they reached the other side the scorpion stung and killed him," Saidh guessed with disgust.
"Nay," Lady MacDonnell said patiently. "He stung him when they were only halfway across the river."
"What?" Saidh squawked. "The daft creature, why would he do a thing like that?"
"That's exactly what I asked," she said with a smile. "And, according to me father, the frog asked that as well. Why would ye sting me? Now we will both die, he says as they are drowning."
"What did the scorpion say?" Saidh asked curiously.
" 'Tis me nature."
Saidh stared at her blankly.
"And I wonder," Lady MacDonnell said unhappily. "Four weddings and four dead husbands. Mayhap that wedding night that made her so affeared o' the marriage bed did something else to Fenella, mayhap it twisted her thinking so that she can no' help but kill her husbands, just as the scorpion could no' h
elp but sting the frog."
Saidh let her breath out slowly and sank back in her seat.
"But as I said, perhaps I'm jest looking fer someone to blame fer losing me sweet son. After all, we ken she did no' kill her first husband, and it does no' seem likely she could have killed her third." Lady MacDonnell shook her head and set aside her sewing. "I'm suddenly tired. I think I'll go ha'e a lie-down ere the sup." She smiled at Saidh and added, "And ye're no' to continue with the sewing without me. Why do ye no' go take a ride on yer mare, or a walk in the bailey? The fresh air will probably do ye more good than my nattering has."
"Mayhap I will," Saidh murmured, setting aside the mending she'd been working on. Standing, she said, "Good sleep," to Lady MacDonnell as the woman headed away, and then just stood there and watched her cross the hall and mount the stairs. Even after the woman disappeared from sight, Saidh continued to stand there looking toward the stairs.
Saidh knew she should really go check on Fenella, but didn't want to. In fact, she didn't think it was a good idea to get anywhere near her cousin until she'd had a chance to absorb and think through everything that she'd just learned. Sighing, she finally turned and strode out of the great hall, heading for the stables.
Chapter 6
"Oy!"
Greer gestured for his practice partner to stop, and then lowered his sword and turned to glance toward Alpin at that shout. He then followed the lad's gesture toward the stables in time to see Saidh disappearing inside. He'd ordered the boy to keep an eye out for her when he'd come out earlier, and the boy had done as told.
A slow smile curving his lips, Greer glanced around in search of his first. Bowie must have heard Alpin's call. The tall golden-haired man was already looking his way and now hurried over at his gesture.
"Aye, m'laird?" the man asked as he paused before him.
"Continue to oversee the men. I need to ha'e a word with Lady Buchanan."
"Aye, m'laird," Bowie bobbed his head and then turned toward the men to find they'd all stopped to see what was about. Scowling, Bowie began shouting orders at them to get on with it and Greer nodded with satisfaction and started away. The man had been his cousin's first, and he'd inherited him along with the rest of MacDonnell. Allen had made a good choice, however, Bowie was smart, strong and good at his job. He'd proven himself invaluable in helping Greer learn what he needed to as he took on the role as the new laird.