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Jetta woke with a start and sat up sharply in bed, her eyes darting around for the source of the sound that had roused her from sleep. For a moment she was confused and befuddled, not recognizing the strange room she was in. Certainly, it wasn't her bedchamber at Fitton. That room was much larger, the bed having a canopy and curtains you could use to close out light and sound. This room was--
At the lodge, Jetta realized suddenly, her mind clearing as she swung her feet over the side of the bed and they landed on the pallet still lying beside it. The pallet her husband usually slept on. Or had, she supposed, since he'd left for Buchanan and would not be sleeping there this night. She'd have the room all to herself, Jetta thought, and glanced around as the last of her confusion drifted away.
She'd stayed below with Mavis while the woman cooked the papyns, but once they'd eaten the delicious eggs in a rich sauce, Jetta had suddenly found herself exhausted. So much so, she hadn't even argued when Mavis had suggested she have a little lie down and rest a bit. The woman had seen her up here and tucked her in, and that was the last thing Jetta recalled. She couldn't have slept too, too long though, Jetta decided as she noted the bright sunlight streaming through the open shutters at the window.
"He was poisoned I tell ye!"
Frowning at the shouted words from outside, Jetta pushed herself off the bed and moved to the window to peer out. Her eyes widened as she looked down at the half a dozen or so men gathered near the tree by the stables. They were standing around something lying at the base of the tree where Mavis had dumped the stew. All of them were now talking at the same time so that Jetta couldn't tell what was being said anymore.
"What the devil's going on?"
Jetta's gaze shifted quickly to a man who had just come out of the lodge. At first she was sure it was Aulay. His height, size, stride, even his voice were so similar to her husband's that she was sure it was him, but then she noted the gray streaks in the man's hair and decided it must be the Uncle Acair that Aulay had assured them he'd send out to stay with them while he was at Buchanan. She knew she was right when Mavis suddenly hurried out of the lodge and rushed toward the man, crying, "What is it, Acair? What's amiss?"
Jetta's eyebrows widened slightly as she watched the maid. Mavis wasn't looking her usual self. Her clothes were a bit awry, her face flushed, and the way she was looking at and addressing Aulay's uncle was . . . well, frankly it was far more like he was a beau than a lord. The way Acair was looking at Mavis told a story of its own too. The two of them were obviously lovers, Jetta decided as Acair broke away from the men and moved to intercept Mavis. Taking her arm, he gently ushered her back toward the cottage, murmuring in her ear as he did and bringing a look of dismay to her face.
Jetta watched until they disappeared inside again, and then shifted her gaze back to the men by the tree. Several of them had moved away now and she could see one was sitting on the ground, holding what appeared to be a dead dog in his lap. He was rocking it back and forth, his face full of sorrow.
Frowning, Jetta started to withdraw from the window, intending to go below and find out what was going on, but then a splash of color in the trees caught her eye. Pausing, she searched the woods beyond the stables and could have sworn she saw someone moving away through the woods. Someone in colorful clothing and moving swiftly. That was all she saw though before whoever it was moved completely out of sight.
One of the men, Jetta told herself. Perhaps looking for a spot to relieve himself or a place to bury the dog, she thought as she headed for the door. Although none of the other men were wearing bright colors, Jetta considered as she opened the door and stepped out onto the landing.
"Oh, lass, I was just coming to check on ye. I was afraid all the foofaraw may have woken ye."
Jetta paused and smiled with concern at Mavis as the older woman rushed toward her from the stairs. "What happened?"
"Oh, 'tis an awful thing. Young Robbie's dog was poisoned," she said unhappily, catching her arm, and urging her back the way she'd come. "Poor thing. He was a good dog too. All the lads liked him. But he ate that burned stew I threw out and . . ." She shook her head unhappily. "There must have been some kind o' poisonous plant at the base o' the tree where I threw out the stew and he ate some o' it along with the stew. 'Tis the only thing I can think could ha'e happened. But the poor beast is dead."
"Oh no," Jetta said with dismay, despite having seen the dead dog. Somehow hearing what had happened was worse than seeing the dog lying in the man's lap. In truth, he'd looked as if he could have been sleeping when she'd seen him. But hearing about it, well, she recalled how upset she'd been when her own dog, Jezebel, had died and--
"Aye, I'm afraid so, and I feel just awful about it. Had I tossed the stew somewhere else, or . . ." She shook her head. "Poor beast. He really was a good dog."
Deciding now was not the time to talk about her having another memory returned to her, Jetta merely nodded and allowed herself to be drawn back into the bedchamber. But this new memory reminded her that she'd had another memory when she'd first woken up. Of her bedroom back at . . . damn, where had it been? She was sure a name had come to her as she'd thought of her bedchamber at home. Now all that remained was a vague idea of a curtained bed or something, and she couldn't recall the name that had come to her mind with the image. The memory had faded like the remnants of a dream from her mind.
"Poor beast," Mavis murmured again as she closed the door behind them. "Come along, the plaid ye were wearing should be dry by now. Let's get it on ye so ye can go below. Acair's curious to speak with ye now ye're awake."
"That was Uncle Acair I saw outside, then?" Jetta asked, pleased that she'd guessed right.
"Aye. He and the boys arrived just after ye fell asleep. The laird sent them to guard us until he can return," Mavis explained as she felt the plaid she'd laid over a chair by the fire, and--apparently finding it dry--retrieved it and laid it out on the floor to begin putting pleats into the material.
Jetta crossed the room to join her. "Let me do that, Mavis. I need to learn how."
"So, there still is no news on a ship that sank?" Aulay asked with a frown. This was the first chance he'd got to ask his brother what he and Geordie had learned while out looking for news of the ship Jetta had been on. He hadn't felt right about asking Geordie when he'd gone to see him in the room where Rory was tending Katie. His brother had been so pale and upset over the maid, he'd let the matter go and asked Conran to follow him below to talk to him instead. This, however, was not the news he'd hoped to get from his brother, Aulay thought, as he watched Conran shake his head.
"Nay. I did no' learn anything more than Geordie and Alick did the first time. Neither did Geordie," he added, and then explained, "We met on the ride back and talked. We rode together the last part o' the way until we encountered Katie." Mouth tightening, he added, "I should ne'er ha'e taken the lead. I should have ridden behind them to watch their backs."
"Ye could no' ha'e kenned that was going to happen," Aulay said firmly. "And yer being behind them probably would no' ha'e changed anything."
"Mayhap," Conran said unhappily, and then breathed out a sigh and said, "Anyway, neither Geordie nor I found even a whisper o' news about a ship that sank in that storm three weeks ago. Well, almost five weeks now," he said grimly. "It just did no' happen."
"Well, Jetta had to come from somewhere," Aulay growled with frustration.
"Aye," Conran agreed and then asked, "Ye're sure it was the mast o' a ship she was strapped to?"
"Aye. The crow's nest was mostly still intact, and the sail still attached. It was definitely a mast," he assured him.
"What the devil happened to the ship, then?" Conran was beginning to sound frustrated too.
Aulay scowled, but then stilled.
"What?" Conran asked at once. "Have ye an idea?"
Aulay was silent for a minute, considering the thought that had just popped into his head. Finally, he nodded. "I'm thinkin' mayhap the ship did no' sink."
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Conran raised his eyebrows at the suggestion. "So 'twas no' a mast ye found her tied to?"
"Aye, it was," Aulay assured him.
"Well then--"
"Da told me once about a ship he traveled on, and a storm that came on so fast and rough the wind snapped the mast just below the crow's nest ere they could lower the sails."
Conran considered that briefly. "And ye're thinking mayhap the same thing happened here, only much lower on the mast?"
"Aye," Aulay growled. "The mast could have had a weakness at the base that snapped when the storm struck."
"Taking Jetta with it," Conran said slowly.
"But leaving the ship afloat," Aulay finished grimly.
"We did hear mention o' a ship or two taking damage in the storm and limping into one port or another fer repairs," Conran told him.
