Edith hesitated, but then took a deep breath and said, "He is sleeping, and I thought it best to let him rest since he was apparently up most o' the night worrying over me."
"Aye, he was, but . . ." Rory looked toward the stairs again and then to Moibeal. When his eyes narrowed on her maid, Edith noted the disapproval on the girl's face. Apparently, he had no trouble sorting out what might be behind that disapproval, because when he finally turned his gaze back to her, he said solemnly, "I'm guessing Moibeal mentioned that Niels wants to take ye away to Buchanan today."
Edith hesitated, trying to marshal a sensible argument for why they shouldn't do that.
Before she could, Rory continued, "And I ken that must be frightening."
She blinked at the suggestion.
"Leaving the home ye've always known fer a new one full o' strangers is no doubt a daunting prospect," he said solemnly, "But 'tis fer the best. 'Twill be safer fer ye, as well as the people here."
"The people here?" Edith asked with surprise.
"Well, we've been fortunate so far. At least somewhat. Moibeal survived the poison meant fer ye, and is healthy and well again. Effie I begin to think will no' survive, however, but at least we got lucky yesterday and no one was behind ye when ye bent over and the arrow sailed past ye missing its mark. Had Niels or Tormod or anyone else been behind ye, they may have taken the arrow in yer stead. Even Ronson could have if ye'd picked him up on the saddle with ye, or if the shooter's aim had been off."
Edith was sagging under the realization that he was right when Rory added, "And then there is last eve's mead incident."
She glanced at him sharply. "What of it? No one else drank it, did they?"
"Nay. But we almost did. Geordie fetched it right after the arrow incident and was going to pour each o' us some when ye went above stairs to clean up. But Tormod said he'd rather have ale, and the rest o' us thought that sounded fine and we'd leave the mead fer you. Had we no' done that, Geordie, Alick, Tormod, Niels and I would all probably be dead now."
"Dear God," Edith breathed, dropping to sit on the bench at the table.
"Aye," Rory said grimly. "We got lucky. Next time we may not. 'Twill be safer fer everyone once Niels gets ye away from here. It may even help reveal the killer."
Blinking at that, she glanced up. "How?"
"Well, if they are determined to finish what they've started and kill ye too, they'd have to follow ye to Buchanan," he pointed out. "They'd reveal themselves did they do that."
"Oh, aye," Edith breathed and shook her head. Yesterday, she'd argued to Moibeal that leaving Drummond wouldn't leave her any safer since the killer could follow. Now Rory had turned that argument against her. If the killer followed, they'd surely be recognized as the killer. And if she stayed, she could be putting others at risk.
Edith couldn't believe that hadn't occurred to her. Or perhaps she could, because while she hadn't realized it before Rory had suggested it, she was anxious about leaving Drummond. It had been her home all her life. It was the only home she knew, and these were her people. She'd grown up with them around her and couldn't imagine her life without them. But she would have to. All girls had to grow up, marry and move away from the people they loved. Well, not all she supposed, thinking of Murine. She now lived in her childhood home with her husband, Dougall, but few women got that lucky.
"Well," Moibeal said brightly. "Then I suppose I should go up and start in packing fer the trip."
"I had best go wake my husband first," Edith said on a sigh and stood.
"Nay," Rory said at once. When Edith glanced to him with surprise, he grimaced and said, "Niels can be a bit hard to wake in the mornings and cantankerous when he's tired. I shall stop in and wake him on my way to feed Effie some more soup. The two o' ye can go up and start packing once he comes down. That way ye can break yer fast while ye wait," he added, and then cautioned. "Only eat what yer cook says is safe. And make sure they open a fresh cask o' whatever ye want to drink."
"Aye," Edith muttered, but as she watched Rory turn to head above stairs, she thought it might be better if she simply not eat or drink anything until they'd left. She was sick of being sick.
Niels woke to a loud crash and lunged upward in bed, glancing wildly to Edith, only to find she was no longer beside him. Turning his gaze around the room in search of her, he found his brother Rory instead. The man was leaning against the closed door, a satisfied smile on his face.
"Where's Edith?" Niels growled by way of greeting, and Rory pushed himself away from the door with a smile and started across the room.
"She's below, waiting fer ye to wake up so that she and her maid can start packing."
"Packing?" he asked with surprise.
"Aye. Her maid told her ye planned to take her to Buchanan and I convinced her it was fer the best."
"Ye did?" Niels asked with surprise. Last night as they'd sat by the bed, he'd mentioned his worries that Edith would argue leaving or even refuse, but he hadn't expected his brother to intervene.
"Aye," Rory said, sounding pretty pleased with himself. "And then I helped ye further by convincing her to let me wake ye when she said she would."
"How was that helping me?" he asked with bewilderment.
"Because I'm quite sure had she come up here to wake ye, the two o' ye would have ended up rolling around in bed all day and not left until tomorrow," he said dryly.
Niels stilled at the suggestion, his mind captured by the idea. They hadn't yet even consummated the wedding, he realized. Technically, that meant they were not even married, did it not? He wasn't sure, but really, should they take the risk? After all, if they encountered Brodie before consummating, he might be able to have the marriage annulled or something. Nodding, he began, "Mayhap--"
"Nay," Rory said firmly.
"Nay, what?" Niels asked with surprise. "I have no' said anything yet."
"Ye were about to point out that the wedding was no' consummated and suggest that ye should stay another day so ye could see to it," Rory said without a lick of doubt. "Ye probably e'en managed to put together some argument that her brother may have the wedding called invalid did ye encounter him before ye consummated it."
"Damn, brother, ye ken me well," Niels said with amusement.
"Aye," Rory agreed. "And I ken that ye'd never forgive yerself did ye stay that extra day and end up widowed all fer a chance to swive yer wife."
"Aye, I would," Niels agreed unhappily, and tossed the linens and furs aside to get out of bed.
"Besides, Brodie could no' prove the marriage was no' consummated," Rory commented suddenly.
Niels snorted at the suggestion as he grabbed his shirt off the floor and pulled it on. Once his head cleared the collar, he said, "I think the fact that she was poisoned and sick as can be would probably give that away."
"Aye, but the bedsheet suggests she may have been sick after the consummation. Or that the wedding was consummated this morn ere getting up," Rory pointed out and Niels turned to peer at the bed, his eyes widening when he saw the dried red-brown stain on the bottom linen. It was from the preserves Edith had smeared on herself thanks to the advice of the unknown Magda, but it did look like blood. A slow smile claimed his lips.
"I'll take it and hang it over the banister while ye pleat yer plaid, shall I?" Rory asked, moving toward the bed.
Niels started to nod, but then frowned and asked, "What if someone investigates and realizes 'tis just preserves?"
Rory paused and then relaxed and said, "I'll only leave it up until the nooning meal and then take it down and burn it. That way all will see it, but Brodie'll no' be able to examine it when he returns."
"Good," Niels said, looking around now for his tartan. "Thank ye."
"Me pleasure, brother," Rory said lightly, stripping the stained linen off the bed. "I'm always happy to aid in the course o' true love."
Niels glanced to him sharply. "Love? I do no' love Edith. I like her, but that is it."
Rory gave him a
pitying look as he straightened with the linen in hand. "Sometimes, Niels, I swear ye're a dolt with naught in yer head but boiled brains . . . and this is one o' those times if ye truly believe ye do no' love the lass. The way ye were fretting over her last night made it pretty clear to one and all that ye love her."
"One and all?" Niels asked with wide eyes. "How would one and all ken anything? Only ye, Tormod, Geordie and Alick were up here."
Rory's eyebrows rose. "Do ye truly no' recall running to the top o' the stairs in a panic, wearing naught but yer boots and puke and bellowing like a wounded bear fer us to come quick, that yer Edith was stricken?"