Unfortunately, they'd never even managed the kiss, and it seemed obvious he'd have to wait until later to distract Edith with them.
Chapter 7
"Stabbed?" Edith said slowly, her mind unable to comprehend what Rory was saying. "Someone stabbed Cawley?"
"Aye. With this," Rory said and held up a black-handled dirk.
"That's my father's," Edith gasped, moving quickly forward to stare at the ornate ruby-topped handle. She could hardly believe it.
"Are ye sure?" Niels asked, moving to her side to peer at the weapon.
"O' course. 'Tis one o' a kind. I'd no' mistake it fer another," she murmured, her gaze sliding over the weapon again. She'd always thought it beautiful, but now, with Cawley's blood still on it, the beauty was somehow tarnished.
Turning, she walked to the bed and sat on the end of it. "Who did it?"
The men all glanced at each other silently, and then Tormod said, "No one kens."
"What?" she asked with dismay. "But there were a ton o' servants in the kitchen."
"Aye, and every one o' them was watching the food to be sure no one poisoned it," Tormod said grimly. "No one was paying attention to Cawley. They just left him to sit in his corner eating the pastries Jaimie made fer him and . . ." He shrugged helplessly. "No one saw a thing until Cawley tumbled off the barrel he was sitting on and began to bleed on the stone floor, and they said no one was near him when that happened."
"How could no one have been near him?" she asked with disbelief. "Someone had to have stabbed him."
"He was stabbed in the heart, Edith," Rory said softly. "He died almost at once. He may have sat in a stunned state for a count of three or ten before dying and tumbling from the barrel, or may have died leaning up against the wall and only tumbled from it afterward. Either way would have given whoever stabbed him a chance to slip away."
"Aye," Edith breathed the word out and then rubbed her forehead before asking, "But why would anyone kill Cawley? He was harmless."
There was silence and then Niels said, "He was yer father's brother?"
"Half brother, aye," Edith admitted. "Technically, he was me uncle, though me brothers and I never called him that," she murmured and then narrowed her eyes on him. "Ye're thinking this is connected to the poisonings?"
Niels pointed out almost apologetically, "Well, 'tis another family member dead."
"Aye, but Cawley was no' officially family," she said with a frown.
"Ye said everyone at Drummond kenned he was yer father's brother," Rory reminded her quietly.
"Well, aye, but--"
"Could he have inherited Drummond?" Geordie asked.
Edith shook her head. "Nay. Brodie is next in line."
"But if Brodie returned and died, and you died," he added quietly. "Could Cawley have inherited then?"
"Well, I suppose," she admitted, her brow furrowing. "If all of Father's children died without heirs, I suppose it could have passed to Cawley as his half brother and closest living relative."
"And who would inherit after that?" Rory asked.
Edith pursed her lips and thought briefly and then shrugged helplessly and said, "Tormod I think. Yer father and me grandfather were brothers, nay? Ye were me father's cousin?"
"Aye," he admitted reluctantly.
Edith nodded and then turned to Niels and said, "But Tormod is no' the one who killed Cawley. He was sitting with us fer a good hour before ye came below and he came from the bailey when he joined us. I saw him go nowhere near the kitchens. There is no way Cawley sat there dead in the kitchen for an hour without anyone noticing."
"Nay," Rory agreed. "The blood would have run down his body and there was no sign of that. I do no' think he was dead more than a minute or so before tumbling to the floor. If that. Tormod could no' have killed him."
"Thank God," Tormod muttered with feeling.
Edith moved over to pat the man reassuringly on the arm, but said, "Mayhap it has nothing to do with inheriting Drummond. Mayhap 'tis one o' the clans we're feuding with getting us out o' the way, or someone seeking revenge against the family for some unknown injury. Or mayhap Cawley's death has nothing to do with the poisonings," she added.
When her words were met with silence, she threw her hands up with exasperation and headed for the door.
"Where are ye going?" Niels asked with concern, following her.
"Well, 'tis clear we ken no more now than we did after the poisonings," she said impatiently. "And I am sick to death o' thinking about it. I am going to take Laddie fer a walk."
"No' by yerself, ye're no'," Niels said firmly, catching the door as she started to pull it closed behind her. He followed her out of the room and trailed her to the stairs before asking, "How long has it been since ye took yer mare fer a run?"
Edith stopped at the top of the stairs and admitted unhappily, "Too long."
"Then mayhap we should go fer a ride," he suggested gently. "It might do us both some good to feel the wind in our hair and run fast through the woods."
Edith hesitated and then nodded. "Aye," she breathed.
Smiling, Niels took her hand and started eagerly down the stairs.
Ronson was sitting on the floor with Laddie by the fire. Both started to rise when they saw them, but Niels waved them off and picked up speed as they stepped off the stairs and started across the great hall.
By the time they got outside and headed for the stables, Edith was almost running to keep up with him. She didn't mind so much, she had a lot of pent-up energy she needed to spend. It was something that had seemed to trouble her ever since their trip to the loch. She'd been restless and almost dissatisfied as she'd gone about setting to rights the small things that had been neglected at Drummond while she was ill. But her mind had constantly been on Niels and what he'd made her feel, and her eyes had repeatedly sought him out with a sort of yearning.
Unfortunately, while she'd wanted to be closer to him, he'd seemed to be avoiding her just as eagerly. At least he'd been avoiding touching her, even in the most random manner. There had been no polite holding of her arm as he'd escorted her below in the morning, no brushing of arms or other body parts as he reached for something at the table. In fact, he hadn't even sat next to her. Instead, she'd found herself between Tormod and Ronson, or Rory and Ronson, or Rory and Tormod with Niels on the other side of one of them. She had no idea why. But it appeared whatever had made him keep his distance had been resolved, because he was holding her hand as he led her into the stables.
"The stable master's no' here," Niels murmured as they entered.
"What can I do to help?" Edith asked as they approached the stalls where her horse was housed next to his.
Pausing, Niels turned and caught her by the waist to set her on the rail of one of the stalls and instructed, "Sit here and look pretty. I'll no' be a moment."
Edith blinked at him as he moved off to begin saddling his horse, and then slid off the rail and moved to collect her mare's saddle. No one had ever instructed her to sit and look pretty. She didn't even know how to do that. Edith had never e
ven thought of herself as pretty. Smart? Yes. Hardworking? Yes. Kind? Yes. But no one had ever said she was pretty. Certainly not her brothers, and Edith didn't have a lot of experience with men besides her father and brothers.
"Ah, lass. Ye never listen to me," Niels said with amusement, moving to help with her horse once done with his own.
"I've never taken instruction well," she admitted wryly. "Me brothers always said I was difficult and contrary."
"I'd have said intelligent and independent," he countered lightly, finishing with the saddle. Once done, he set her on her mare and then led the animal out of the stall as he added, "And I happen to like that about ye."
Edith found herself beaming at the words.
"I'll be right back," Niels assured her once he had her out of the stables. He went back in, but returned a moment later leading his stallion and Edith found herself admiring the lines of both males as Niels mounted. Catching her looking, he grinned briefly and then nodded toward the gates. "Ye ken the area better than me. Lead the way."
Edith hesitated briefly, and then knew exactly where she wanted to go and steered her horse out of the bailey at a trot. The moment they'd crossed the bridge, she urged the mare to a run down the hill and into the woods. Edith didn't look back to see if Niels was following. She had no doubt he'd be able to keep up. His horse was a fine beast.
The spot Edith had decided on was a good distance away, but not so far as to be dangerous. Still, her mare was winded from a combination of the distance and the speed they'd traveled at by the time she reined in.
Pausing on the edge of a field of heather, Edith peered over the small meadow and breathed out a little sigh of pleasure. This was exactly what she'd needed. Her favorite spot when the world seemed to be crowding in on her. This was where she'd come when her mother had died, when she'd learned the man contracted to be her husband had died and where she wanted to be now.