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Will was quick about arranging men to accompany them. He smiled when he saw her waiting at the top of the steps with Laddie beside her as he crossed the bailey, leading two horses and a pony as well as three dozen mounted men. That smile disappeared, however, when she asked him about having men aid in cleaning the great-hall floor.
"Avy," he groaned.
"I know," Averill said sympathetically. "But it has to be done, and we are terribly short of staff at the moment. If they could just help out--"
"Aye," he interrupted, and reached out to practically toss her up in the saddle, before saying grimly, "I shall talk to my captain."
"Thank you," she murmured, watching him go.
Averill then glanced to Laddie, who stood uncertainly beside her mare, eyeing the pony Will had brought for him with a combination of longing and horror. She bit her lip at his expression, knowing he couldn't possibly have ever ridden a horse. She doubted he'd ever even left the keep except to make short excursions into the bailey, and while he was Brodie's son--legitimately or not--until they had arrived, he'd been treated like the maid's boy. She didn't know what her brother had been thinking, perhaps that this short jaunt to the river was an opportunity to teach the boy to ride, or perhaps because he'd been riding by Laddie's age, he'd unthinkingly assumed he knew how to as well; but she wasn't going to make the boy ride when he looked so terrified.
"Come along," she said abruptly, extending her hand and leaning down.
Laddie raised wide eyes to her. "Am I to ride with you, then?"
"Aye, since you have been ordered to remain at my side," she answered calmly.
"Aye." He looked relieved but did glance toward the pony once before taking her hand.
Laddie was heavier than he looked, and when she struggled a bit to pull him up, several soldiers dismounted and were suddenly there to help.
"Thank you," Averill said with a laugh, as they got Laddie settled on the saddle before her.
"You're welcome, my lady."
"Pleasure to help, my lady."
"Happy to be of assistance, my lady."
Averill blinked as the men all smiled at her widely, bowing as they backed away. These were men she had grown up with and who had always treated her--as the daughter of their lord--with a sort of indifferent respect. Certainly they had never graced her with the flashing eyes and wide smiles they'd just bestowed on her, or even rushed so eagerly to her aid and with such alacrity. 'Twas odd, Averill thought, then shook her head slightly with bewilderment at their behavior as she turned her attention to ensuring Laddie was settled comfortably.
"Are you settled?" she asked, surprised to find him scowling at the men who had helped them. "What is wrong?"
"They shoudna look at ye like that," he said grimly. "Yer the laird's wife."
"Like what?" she asked with surprise.
"Like yer a lass they want to tup."
Averill was so shocked at the words, she could hardly catch her breath, then a short burst of laughter slipped from her lips.
"They were not," she said with disbelief, and then bent a frown on the boy, and asked, "And who has been teaching you to talk like that?"
"Oh, everyone says 'tup.'" He shrugged, then admitted, "I'm no' sure what tuppin' is exactly, except it's somethin' a man does to a woman he likes."
"Aye, well..." Averill cleared her throat, and said, "'Tis not chivalrous to use such speech in a woman's presence."
"Oh." He frowned. "But 'tis all right fer a lass to use it?"
"What lass did you hear use it?" she asked with amazement. Her mother would have forced her into a cold bath for hours had she caught her using such language.
"Annie and Morag use it. Just the other day, Annie was sayin' as how when she was takin' them some ale at the table, Lord Will and Aidan were laughin' and talkin' about the laird's disgust that every time he tried to tup ye, someone shot an arrow at him or some such thing."
Men! Averill thought and closed her eyes on a sigh.
"Besides, the soldiers use 'tup' all the time. They ha'e been goin' on about how lucky laird Kade is to get to tup ye." He frowned, and added, "I guess they havena heard that he's no gettin' to tup ye at all."
"The men think my husband is lucky?" Averill asked with amazement, for if she'd considered it at all, she would have worried they pitied the man. They all knew how many men had rejected her before he had accepted her to wife. Besides, none of them were blind and could surely see how plain and unattractive she was.
"Aye," Laddie nodded solemnly. "Ever since the laird was shot with the arrows and ye brought him home. They say ye came ridin' in all wet and nearly naked, sittin' at the laird's back like a conquerin' queen, and ye were a fine sight to see." He sighed. "I wish I'd seen it."
"I am glad you did not," Averill countered in a mutter, flushing as she recalled the day in question. She'd been more concerned with getting Kade to bed and tended than in her appearance. It wasn't until Bess had rushed up to drape a fur around her as she'd followed the men carrying Kade into their room that she'd even noticed her chemise was soaked, transparent, and plastered to her body.
Averill hadn't thought much of it at the time, for--in her experience--men never looked at her as anything but Will's plain little sister, or Lord Mortagne's ugly daughter. To hear what Laddie was saying was rather shocking to her. No one found her attractive. She did not even think that Kade could, though he acted as if he liked her well enough. She thought he was just being kind because he had grown to like her as she'd nursed him and because she was his friend's sister. Surely, those were the reasons he'd married her? That and for her dower, she had assumed. Now she was left to wonder about it all.
Chapter Fifteen
"My," Averill said with surprise, as the men set to work cutting rushes with wide smiles for her and some vigor put to the task. "See? They do not mind at all."
Will snorted at the suggestion. "They would not be smiling and working so diligently had I asked them to perform the task."
"I am sure they would," Averill murmured, turning to begin moving along the spongy earth in search of the plant she needed. While Will had agreed to detour into the village to speak briefly with the innkeeper and his wife, and had even agreed to allow the men to search for and gather rushes for her if they were willing, he had also refused to ask them himself, insisting she would have to be the one to do it.
Averill had felt a bit nervous as he'd called them over to hear her, and she had stammered once or twice when she normally didn't when speaking to the Mortagne soldiers, but had been relieved and pleasantly surprised when they had all agreed to help. She didn't believe for a moment they would not have agreed had Will asked and not ordered it. In fact, Averill suspected they were all so bored to tears that they would have done nearly anything to end their ennui. And she was grateful for it. There was one more task off her list of things that needed tending at Stewart. They would have the keep in shape in no time at this rate, with or without the return of the servants.
Pausing as a familiar leaf caught her eye, Averill bent at the waist to lean down and brush the branches of a different plant aside to better see the one she wanted. She then nearly overbalanced as the soldier walking behind her didn't stop quickly enough and bumped into her, sending her lurching forward. Averill caught herself by planting one hand on the wet grass, and then stiffened in shock when she felt the soldier grab at her hips to keep her from falling. When he didn't immediately release her, she turned her head to peer wide-eyed along her back toward the guard. His own eyes widened in a sort of shocked horror as he took note of their stance, then he released her hips as if scalded and backed away.
"Sorry, my lady," he mumbled, but she couldn't help noticing his eyes were locked on her behind where it poked up in the air.
Completely flummoxed by it all, Averill pushed with her hand and straightened abruptly, managing a smile for Laddie when he hurried to her side, glaring at the hapless soldier like a small, mean dog.
"I do not think y
ou need follow so closely, Dougie," Will said dryly, joining them from the woods where he'd disappeared to "water the bushes."
"Nay, my lord," the man said quickly, and took several steps back.
Nodding, Will glanced to Averill, and asked, "All's well?"
"Aye." She nodded and turned away to crouch by the plant she had been trying to get a look at.
"Is that it?" Will asked, squatting beside her.
"Aye," Averill murmured, quickly pulling out her knife to cut down the plant at the stalk.
"Is that enough?" Will asked as she straightened.
Averill smiled wryly and shook her head. "Several of these are needed to make one vial of the tincture."
"And how many vials are you wanting to make?" he asked with a frown.
Averill considered the matter, then decided, "At least two."
She was hoping to need only a couple of drops more before Brodie joined his father and brother in giving up the drink, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
Nodding, Will took the plant and turned to show it to the men gathered behind them so that they could keep an eye out, too. There were six men altogether guarding them from harm. Averill thought it silly. Kade was the one someone was trying to kill. However, she supposed six was better than having thirty-six hounding their every step.
The thought made her eyes slide to the thirty men grimly hacking away at rushes. Several had already gathered a goodly sum of the plant stalks. They were holding them under one arm while trying to continue thrashing away at more while thusly hampered, and it made her frown and realize they should have brought a cart.
"Will?"
"Aye?" He turned back in question.
