"Saidh."
"Hmm?" She gave up trying to work out if Fenella had killed Laird MacIver and glanced to her husband in question.
"Allen was Aunt Tilda's only child," Greer said solemnly. "She had a difficult birth and ne'er carried another."
Her eyes widened, and then narrowed with confusion. "But she said she had three bairns ere him."
"Nay." He shook his head firmly, and then added, "Me uncle's first wife did though, three little lasses who ne'er made it out o' swaddling. The mother threw herself from a cliff after the third bairn died, killing herself," he added grimly.
Saidh blinked. "And then he married Tilda?"
"Aye. She comforted him after his wife died; got with child, and me uncle married her. And," he added, his voice growing hard, "Aunt Tilda was his first wife's sister. She'd acted as nursemaid to each o' the bairns who died in swaddling."
Saidh stared at him blankly, and then muttered, "Ah, hell," and scrambled off of his lap. All her earlier weakness slipped away as blood began to pound through her body, riding a wave of fury. She started to stride toward the door, and then stopped and turned back to peer at Greer as he got to his feet. "She killed those bairns."
"I suspect so," he agreed mildly, and then added to her anger by announcing, "And since Aunt Tilda was the only witness to the death of my uncle's first wife, her sister, I suspect--"
"She killed her sister too," Saidh snapped.
Greer nodded. " 'Tis no' such a leap that she might kill her own son as well, once she realized he was no' like to give her what she wanted."
"Aye," Saidh muttered and then shook her head with bewilderment. "She seemed like such a nice old lady."
"Aye," Greer agreed, walking toward her.
"I liked her. And she told me to call her Aunt Tilda," Saidh said almost plaintively, and then growing indignant, added, "And all the while she's been trying to kill me? Why? What did I e'er do to her?"
"I do no' ken, but I shall find out," Greer vowed, pausing in front of her.
"We shall find out," she said grimly, turning toward the door again.
"Nay." Greer scooped her up in his arms and carried her the rest of the way to the door. "I will find out. I want ye nowhere near the woman. Besides, Rory will need to look at yer wound, yer bleeding through yer bandages."
Saidh glanced down and grimaced when she saw he was right. There was a large red circle over her breast on the pale blue gown. They had reached the door now and Saidh glanced around, intending to open it for him, but there was no need. He gave it one healthy kick and then swiftly stepped back out of the way as someone immediately opened it from the hall.
"Me wife needs--" Greer began
"Dougall will take her," Aulay interrupted. "And Rory is already in yer room collecting what he needs out o' his satchel." Grinning, he added, "We heard everything. Yer doors are fair thin here, MacDonnell."
"And our sister is loud," Dougall rumbled as he took Saidh from Greer.
Conran then drawled, "In all things. Ye may want to consider that the next time ye're tupping her."
Saidh scowled over Dougall's shoulder at Conran. Not that he even noticed: he and her other brothers were following Greer down the hall toward Aunt Tilda's room, heads together and jabbering away. Discussing how best to approach Aunt Tilda, she supposed unhappily, and heaved a depressed sigh. She really had liked Aunt Tilda. Her turning out to be such a nasty old murdering cow was more than just a little disappointing.
"Sorry, Saidh," Dougall said solemnly. "I ken ye liked her."
"Aye," she muttered unhappily, and reached to open the door to the master bedchamber for him when he paused in front of it.
Dougall immediately started inside, but only got a step or so past the door when he suddenly grunted, stumbled forward, and then crashed to the floor taking her with him. It all happened so fast, Saidh didn't even get the chance to cry out. One moment she was in his arms and the next she was hitting the floor with a soft thud and Dougall was coming down on top of her.
Saidh wasn't sure what hurt worse, her injured shoulder and hip slamming into the hard floor, or Dougall's weight crashing onto her. But the combination was enough to leave her dazed and in agony.
"Oh dear, that had to hurt."
Saidh blinked her eyes open at that comment to see that Aunt Tilda was closing the bedchamber door. When the woman then proceeded to bar it, Saidh forced herself to ignore the pain vibrating through her body and began to drag herself determinedly out from under Dougall. She also opened her mouth to shout for help at the same time, but froze when Aunt Tilda turned back from the door and she saw that she had Alpin in front of her.
The boy was awake, but Saidh suspected held upright only by the arm around his throat. He looked as dazed as she felt in that moment.
"No screaming now," Aunt Tilda said solemnly, producing a knife from the folds of her skirt and pressing it to Alpin's throat. "We do no' want the boy to get hurt, do we?"
Saidh closed her mouth and stopped moving.
"Nay, nay. Do get up," Tilda said at once. "The boys may come running back here any minute to warn yer brothers that I am no' in me room. If they do, and if we are still here, I fear I shall ha'e to kill young Alpin as yer punishment."
Saidh scowled at the woman, and then finished dragging herself out from under Dougall and managed to stagger to her feet. It was a difficult task though, and she knew she was swaying on her feet once she gained them.
"To the passage," Tilda ordered, and then added sharply, "Quickly."
Saidh glanced to Alpin, and then turned reluctantly and crossed the room to the wall beside the mantel. She spotted Rory on the floor on the far side of the bed as they passed it and supposed Tilda had caught him unawares. She'd probably slipped into the room through the passage and knocked him out. Certainly, she couldn't have come up the hall without her other brothers seeing her. They'd been waiting there while Saidh and Greer had talked to Bowie.
"Open the passage," Tilda said when Saidh paused at the wall.
"Where are we going?" Saidh asked as she pressed the stone Alpin had that afternoon. Dear God, it had only been a matter of hours ago, she realized suddenly. It felt like a lifetime ago now.
"Grab the torch inside and light it from the fire," Tilda instructed, not bothering to answer her question.
Saidh did as she was told, her movements slowed by the pain coursing through her body. She seemed to hurt everywhere, though her shoulder and chest hurt the worst.
"Now in," Tilda ordered when Saidh had straightened from lighting the torch, and then gave her a shove to get her moving.
Saidh stumbled into the narrow passage and glanced back in time to see Tilda turn from closing the passage door. The knife she held was pressed tight to Alpin's throat and a line of blood had sprung up under it.
"Move," Tilda said, her voice cold. "Quickly, child. I would not wish to hurt wee Alpin here to make ye move faster. He's a good lad. Such good manners and always proper."
Saidh ground her teeth together, but turned and started along the passage, holding the torch out in front of her to light the way. But she wished she had her sword. Sadly, she hadn't seen or even thought of her damned sword since waking up in the master bedchamber next to Alpin. What good was having a sword and knowing how to use it if she didn't carry it with her? she admonished herself silently, and then sighed to herself and turned her attention to more useful concerns, like-- "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did ye kill yer own son?" she asked, and really wanted to know the answer.
"Why do ye think? The lad was always a disappointment," Tilda said grimly. "And after all I did to be able to ha'e him too."
"Killing yer own sister and her bairns ye mean?" Saidh asked dryly.
"Exactly," Tilda said sharply, and then jabbed her in the back with her knife and snapped, "Faster."
Saidh winced at the painful poke, but moved faster.
"Me sister was useless," Tilda announced after a moment as if to justify what she'd done. "She only e'er birthed lasses. I am the one who ga'e MacDonnell his son and heir."
"And then ye killed that son and heir," Saidh pointed out dryly.
"Well, he damned near killed me while I was giving birth to him," Tilda shot back as if that excused it. "And then, after he was born, I could no' ha'e any other children."
"Ye blamed him fer that?" she asked with disbelief.
"He tore me up inside, didn't he? I near bled to death," she snarled, and then sighed and said, "Still, I told meself, I had him. The precious male heir who would ensure me blood would continue down the line." Tilda laughed bitterly. "Little did I ken then. Me sister must ha'e been laughing in her grave at the joke."