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Mouth tightening, Saidh pulled her down the stairs to the great hall. "Ye can no' stay abed in that room fer the rest o' yer life, Fenella. Ye're still young, and ye're no' the one who died."
"Nay, me husband did," Fenella cried as they reached the bottom of the stairs. She then jerked her hand from Saidh's and covered her face as she burst into tears.
"Damn," Saidh breathed, not knowing what the hell to do now. It wasn't like she'd been faced with this situation before. Her brothers weren't the sort to stand about sobbing fit to break yer heart, and despite all the trials and tribulations Joan and Murine had suffered of late, neither of them had done it either. Even on learning of her father's death, Murine had stood straight and tall, silent tears trailing down her cheeks that she'd dashed away before saying, "I should go pack." She'd then walked away, head high, shoulders straight. Saidh could tell she was hurting, but the woman hadn't broken down. She'd born her pain stoically, and Saidh wished to hell that Fenella was more like that.
Sighing, Saidh shifted sideways toward the woman, patted her back awkwardly and then said, "I'll fetch yer maid, shall I?"
She didn't wait for a response, but hurried toward the kitchens, sure the woman would be found in there, or, if not, that someone there would know where to find her.
It took a couple moments to round up the wench. Fenella's maid had slipped out to the gardens to pick flowers for her lady, hoping to cheer her. Saidh helped her carry the flowers back in, and led the woman into the great hall, only to come to an abrupt halt. Fenella was still there, but she was also sobbing in Greer's arms.
Saidh's gaze narrowed on the couple, and she crushed the flowers she carried, only realizing she was doing it when a thorn pricked her fingers. Relaxing her hold on the flowers, Saidh straightened her shoulders and crossed the great hall to the couple.
"I found Sorcha," she announced grimly as she reached them. "And look, she picked flowers fer ye."
Fenella pulled away from Greer far enough to turn and look at the flowers both women were carrying, then burst into renewed sobs and threw herself against Greer wailing miserably. For Greer's part, he looked rather like a deer in the face of oncoming riders. Body stiff and neck red, he stared down with horror at the woman sobbing all over the clean, dry plaid he'd donned on returning to the keep. He then turned his gaze to Saidh, eyebrows rising in question as he mouthed, "What do I do?"
Finding the anger that had gripped her when she'd first seen Fenella in his arms suddenly slipping away, Saidh grinned and shrugged.
Greer scowled at her for her lack of aid, then scooped Fenella up in his arms and started up the stairs, muttering, "Come, Sorcha'll put ye to bed."
Saidh grinned, but turned to dump the flowers she carried on top of the ones Sorcha already held, then backed away from the stairs. There was no damned way she was going to be stuck up in that room all day with the sobbing woman.
"Oh!"
That startled sound from behind her accompanied Saidh's trouncing on something soft. Whirling around, she saw at once that it was Lady MacDonnell's foot. The woman stood behind her smiling weakly as she raised her foot to rub the end.
"Oh, dear, I'm sorry m'lady," Saidh murmured, taking the woman's arm to help her maintain her balance. "I was no' watching where I was going."
"Neither was I," Lady MacDonnell admitted with a wry little twist to her lips. She gave up rubbing her injured toes and straightened with a little sigh and then glanced from Saidh to the trio disappearing up the stairs. When anger immediately darkened her face, Saidh decided some distraction was needed and asked, "Were ye going above stairs?"
Lady MacDonnell glanced to her, expression briefly blank and then she nodded. "Aye. I was going to fetch me maid to help me with some sewing."
"I can help ye," Saidh offered. "I'm no' the best seamstress in the world, but I can sew a straight line."
"Oh, is no' that sweet o' ye?" Lady MacDonnell beamed at her. "Well, if ye do no' mind and ha'e a few minutes to spare, I'd appreciate yer aid."
Saidh nodded at once and followed her to the chairs by the fire. She even managed a smile, which did not usually come to her expression at the thought of sewing. But in this case, she didn't mind at all. It meant she had an excuse to avoid Fenella until she'd spent the worst of her tears and calmed a bit. While Saidh had agreed to stay when Fenella had asked her to, standing about patting her cousin's back, saying "there, there" while Fenella sobbed all day and night was not something she really wished to do. She would wait until the woman had spent her tears and then try to offer her some comfort and distraction, but until then, sewing seemed a more attractive pastime.
Much to Saidh's relief the sewing Lady MacDonnell was tending to was simple mending. There were no fancy stitches for her to fret over, as straight lines were all that were required. They worked in silence at first, though it didn't feel awkward to Saidh. It was when Greer came back downstairs and cast a brief scowl at her on his way out of the keep that they began to speak.
"Oh dear, Greer appears annoyed with ye." Lady MacDonnell sounded most amu
sed at the fact and Saidh bit her lip, then smiled and admitted:
"Aye, 'tis sure I am he is. I fear I left him to Fenella's damp mercies earlier."
"Ah." Lady MacDonnell said grimly. "I came up as he was carrying her above stairs. Crying on his shoulder again, was she?"
Saidh nodded, but lowered her gaze to the stocking she was mending and muttered, "Crying seems to be all she does."
"Aye, and 'tis damned annoying," Lady MacDonnell said, drawing Saidh's startled gaze. Smiling, the woman informed her, "I have verra good hearing, me dear."
"Oh." Saidh swallowed and nodded with a weak smile.
After a moment, the lady commented, "Ye do no' seem to care much fer yer cousin."
Saidh stared at the stocking in her hands and then sighed. "In truth, I'm no' sure whether I do or no'. I barely know her, m'lady."
Lady MacDonnell raised her eyebrows at that, and Saidh nodded firmly.
"She stayed with us fer a week or two when we were children while her mother was ill, and then I attended her wedding when I was sixteen. But other than those two times . . ." She shrugged. "This is only the third occasion that I've spent time around her."
"I see," she said thoughtfully, and then asked, "What was she like as a girl?"
"She was always crying then too," Saidh said with a grimace, and then to be fair, added, "But I suppose that was me fault."
"How is that?" Lady MacDonnell asked curiously.
"I grew up playing with me brothers. 'Twas what I'd always done, so when she arrived, I thought, 'Grand, another playmate,' and expected her to want to muddy her face, wrap a fur around her waist, climb the trees and swing from branches yelling war cries too."
"Muddy her face?"
"Aye, well me brothers and I liked to play at being warrior Britons, but we had no blue paint so made do with mud."
"Ah, I see," Lady MacDonnell sat back, grinning and nodding. "I imagine that was fun."
"Aye," Saidh assured her with a laugh, but the amusement faded quickly from her face and she sighed. "Fenella did no' agree. She was a little lady. I could be a dastardly Briton if I liked, but she would no'. In fact, she decided I could be the dastardly Briton warrior trying to kidnap and harm her, and me brothers could be her valiant guards who rescued her from me filthy pagan hands."
