"Ah," Niels said relaxing and even managing a smile. Then he glanced to Edith. "Is yer uncle Cawley the reason ye took in Ronson and his grandmother?"
"Nay," Edith said with surprise. "I took them in because they needed a home. Everyone should have a place to call home."
Niels stared at Edith and wondered if she realized just how much she'd said with those words. She had given Ronson and his grandmother a place where they could feel they belonged and that they could call home. She was giving them what she herself didn't have. Her place here was temporary. Edith would lose the only home she'd ever known and the rest of her family along with it, all the soldiers and servants she'd grown up with and considered her family, friends and charges. She would even lose her damned dog since he didn't think the Abbey would allow her to bring the huge beast with her.
It was heartbreaking to him, and so unfair. Edith was a good woman, a kind woman. She deserved better.
"M'lady."
Niels glanced around even as Edith did, his eyes narrowing as he saw the skinny little man standing behind Edith with a metal platter with pastries on it.
"I made yer favorite," the man said. "Pastry stuffed with sweetened cherries."
"Oh, how lovely," Edith said smiling at the man. "Thank ye, Jaimie."
"'Twas me pleasure," he assured her, beaming. "We are all verra happy to see ye up and about again, m'lady. And I promise ye, I did no' take me eyes off these pastries from start to finish. I even stood and watched 'em cook. No one got near them. So you enjoy 'em. They're safe."
"Thank ye, Jaimie," Edith said again, and when the man leaned past her to set them on the table in front of her, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek of gratitude that had the man flushed and flustered. Bobbing his head repeatedly, he backed away from the table and then turned and rushed back to the kitchens as red as the cherries in his pastries.
Niels eyed the pastries on the platter and caught her hand when she went to grab one. "Mayhap I should try one first in case they're poisoned."
Edith blinked at him with surprise. "Ye heard Jaimie, he watched them from start to finish. They are fine."
"But what if he is the one who poisoned the wine and stew?" he pointed out.
"What? He would no' . . ." Pausing, she narrowed her eyes. "Ye're just after me cherry pastries, m'lord."
"I am not, I--" he began to protest, but paused when she took a pastry off the platter and offered it to him.
"Try it then. They're very good."
Niels accepted the pastry, his mouth already watering. He was biting into it even before she turned to offer the platter to the other man.
"You too, Tormod," Edith said. "I can no' possibly eat all o' these by meself."
"Ah, ye're a fine woman, Lady Edith. A heart o' gold is what ye have," Tormod said, taking a pastry as well.
Niels saw Edith shake her head with amusement at the man's flattery, but he was busy trying not to moan at how good the pastry he'd just bitten into was. Dear God, if the cook at Buchanan made anything even near as good as this, he and his brothers would not be happily wandering far and wide making coin. They'd all be stuck at home, as big as Cawley and just as complacent.
"Pastries?" Ronson cried, rushing up to the table with Laddie on his heels.
"Aye. Cherry," Edith said and held the platter out to the boy. When he took one, she said, "Take two and sit next to Niels to eat. No sharing with Laddie though, ye ken they make him sick."
"I ken," Ronson said. "Thank ye, m'lady." Taking his booty, he climbed up onto the bench next to Niels and set to work at scarfing down the cherry delights.
"Well?"
Mouth full of pastry, Niels raised an eyebrow in question at Edith's question.
"Is it poisoned?" she asked dryly.
Chewing, he merely shook his head and Edith snorted and picked up three more pastries and set them in front of him, saying, "Enjoy."
It was in that moment that Niels Buchanan decided that Edith Drummond was one of the finest women he'd ever met.
"So, what are yer plans fer today?" Tormod asked.
Niels knew he was asking Edith but when she opened her mouth to answer, he quickly swallowed the pastry and said firmly, "Bed."
"What?" Edith turned on him with shock. "I am no' going back to bed. I just got up."
"Ye have to take this slowly. Ye've been ill fer weeks. Ye need--"
"I was poisoned, not ill," she reminded him grimly. "And I am fine now."
"Ye must no' overdo it. Ye're still weak," he argued.
"Aye, I am," she acknowledged. "But I'm no' going to get stronger lounging about in bed. Besides, there is much to do around here."
"Nonsense," Niels said at once.
"Oh really?" she asked with disbelief. "So ye did no' notice the horrid moldy stench to the rush mat ye slept on last night? Because I notice ye now carry that stink with ye, as do Ronson and Laddie."
Frowning, Niels sniffed himself and grimaced. He had indeed noticed the smell when he'd first laid down last night, but so many hours with it in his nose had apparently made him immune to the scent. Now that she mentioned it though, he did carry the smell with him and it was quite putting him off his cherry pastries.
Scowling, he asked, "What has to happen to make the rushes smell better?"
"I shall have the women remove and burn the old rush mats and then I shall have to take the children down to the river to collect fresh rushes." She paused and then added, "And then the women will have to weave fresh mats to replace the old and we'll put them down and sprinkle dried flowers to make them smell nice."
Niels was silent for a moment, considering what she'd said. In the short time that he'd known Edith, he'd come to understand her well enough to realize that having the women remove and burn the old rush mats meant she'd help them do it, and taking the children down to collect fresh rushes probably meant she'd be performing the backbreaking work alongside them. It was just the kind of woman she was, leading by example and not simply standing back and barking orders. Niels also knew she felt fine just now, but the woman had spent the better part of the past month ill in bed. She would tire much more quickly than she realized.
However, he suspected he wasn't going to be able to talk her out of this rush business. In truth, he really didn't want to. Now that he was aware of it again, he found the moldy stench that had permeated his shirt and tartan unbearable. He was thinking a quick trip to the loch to bathe away the scent was a good idea, but it would do him little good if he then had to lie on the smelly mats again tonight. Since he had no intention of leaving Edith unprotected, that was where he was definitely going to be tonight, so fresh rushes were a necessity.
"Verra well, I suggest ye have yer maid Moibeal oversee the collecting and burning o' the mats while ye take the children down to collect fresh rushes," Niels said, and when she started to protest as he expected, added, "'Twill help speed things along and I think that may be necessary. Me leg was tender when I woke up this morn."
Edith blinked at him with confusion. "Yer leg? What has that to do with anything?"
"'Tis an old injury that usually only acts up before a rainstorm," he explained, which was true, though he was quite sure this morning's tenderness could be blamed on sleeping on the cold, hard floor and not a coming rain. "Ye'll want the rushes collected and the children back at the keep ere that happens else ye'll have a castle full o' sick children on yer hands."
"Oh, aye," she agreed with a frown.
"I'll oversee the collecting and burning of the old mats," Tormod said now. "I'll have the men help too. That way ye can take Moibeal along and a couple other maids to help with gathering rushes and corralling the children. They can be a handful."
"Oh, that's no' necessary," Edith said at once. "I can handle the children."
"Aye, but if 'tis going to rain, ye'll want the lads and lassies to be quick about their business, and ye ken how they dawdle and play. Moibeal and the others can help ye speed things along. In fact," Tormod announced,
"I'm thinking mayhap ye should take all the maids and leave the collecting and burning completely to me men. It'll be done in no time then, ye'll beat the rain and ye ken it'll be like a day off fer them, a bit o' fun. After these weeks o' stress and tragedy, everyone could do with a little o' that."
"A fine idea, Tormod," Niels said with an approving nod, appreciating his aid.
"Laddie and I'll come with ye, m'lady," Ronson announced.
Niels grinned at the lad when he saw the cherry filling smeared all over his face. It looked like he'd got more around his mouth than in it.
"Thank ye, Ronson, that would be fine," Edith said with a smile.
Nodding, Ronson licked cherry filling from his hand and added, "Do no' ye worry none, Laddie and I'll keep ye safe from that boil-brained barnacle from Satan's arse what poisoned ye."
"Dear God, pray tell me Bessie did no' hear that," Edith breathed.
"Who's Bessie?" Niels asked with curiosity.
"Ronson's grandmother," Tormod explained.
Interested in seeing the woman who had helped raise the fine boy next to him, Niels glanced around. "Is she here?"