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Panting and sweaty from what should have been an easy task, Edith swayed where she sat on the edge of the bed and eyed the door with grim determination. Her chamber wasn't really that large. She knew from experience that the door was only six large steps or so from the bed. But after the struggle she'd had to sit up, even six steps seemed an awfully long distance to cross.
Unfortunately, while waking the snoring man in her room would have been the easier option, Edith wouldn't even consider it until she knew if he was friend or foe. Which meant that if she wanted to find out what was going on in Drummond, and whether she was safe or not, she needed to slip out into the hall and get a look around. Preferably without waking her guard.
Determined to do it, Edith took a deep breath and then used every muscle at her disposal to get up. She pushed off with her hands and up with her legs and for one glorious moment she was upright and standing, and then she fell flat on her face on a rush mat just as the bedroom door opened.
"Bloody hell, Alick! Ye were supposed to be watching--Laddie! Nay!"
Edith pushed one eyelid up and then immediately closed it again as she spotted the huge tongue just inches from her eye. She barely got it closed before the side of her face was lashed with a very large slimy tongue from chin to forehead. Nose wrinkling, she listened to the pounding of feet quickly crossing the room. She noted that the snoring had ended abruptly just before a second male voice, sounding startled, cried out, "What? Hey! Where'd she go?"
"Idiot," the man now kneeling next to her muttered. Edith wasn't sure whom he was calling idiot, and didn't particularly care. She was too grateful to have Laddie's affectionate licking brought to an end and opened her eyes to see a man dragging the dog back toward the door by his collar.
"Ronson!" he bellowed.
"Oh, hey! Niels? How'd she get out o' bed?" Edith was quite sure it was the previously snoring man who asked that question since it came from the other side of the bed.
"How do ye think, Alick?" the first man growled and then bellowed again, "Ronson! Oh, there ye are. Get this mutt out o' here."
"Sorry, m'lord," Ronson cried, entering the room and hurrying to grab Laddie's collar. "He got away from me real quick. He's sneaky that way. But he's been missing Lady Edith and--Why is Lady Edith on the floor? What--?"
"Out," Niels growled. "Now!"
"Aye, m'lord," Ronson said, dragging Laddie with him as he shuffled backward toward the door. The boy beamed at Edith the whole way. "'Tis real fine to see ye awake, m'lady. Real fine. I'll bring Laddie back fer a visit when ye're feeling better."
The last word came muffled through the door as the man Alick had called Niels slammed it closed.
Edith could hear Niels muttering under his breath as she watched his large feet cross the room once more. It sounded like he was saying something about fools, lads and dogs who were really horses, and then he knelt next to her and she found herself turned and then scooped up off the floor and away from the nasty rush mat her face had landed on. It was dirty and beginning to mold, obviously in need of changing. She'd have to have the servants take them away and make new ones.
"Sorry about that," Niels growled, drawing her attention back to him. "The dog tends to follow me around, but usually stops in the hall when I come in here."
"Aye, Laddie follows Niels everywhere when he leaves the room," Alick told her solemnly. "So does young Ronson. They both seem to like him." Pursing his lips, he shook his head and added, "None o' us can figure out why."
Niels growled under his breath in response.
Edith glanced from one man to the other, unsure what to say. She had no idea if they were friend or foe. In the end, she merely nodded her head slightly. For some reason, that made the man carrying her smile and she blinked in surprise as his stern face suddenly turned very handsome. He had an incredibly appealing smile. It lit up his whole face and made his beautiful blue eyes twinkle. Edith couldn't resist smiling back as her eyes slid over his high cheekbones, straight nose, full lips and the wild, long hair framing it all. He really was very attractive.
"I'm Niels Buchanan," he announced, and Edith stopped gaping at how pretty he was and met his gaze as she recognized the last name.
"Not Saidh's--" That was all she managed to get out, and it was nothing more than a breathy sound. Her mouth was so dry she couldn't even work up spit in it. Fortunately, Niels didn't have the same problem and understood what she'd wanted to say.
"Aye, one o' Saidh's brothers," he assured her, turning toward the bed. Setting her down in it, he added, "And ye're Edith Drummond, one o' me sister's dearest friends."
"Aye," she agreed in a whisper as he tugged the linens and furs up to cover her. Edith's smile widened ever so slightly. Drummond hadn't been invaded by enemies. They were being visited by friends. "Is Saidh . . . ?"
"Nay, she's no' here," he said almost apologetically as he straightened. "She was too far along with child to make the journey and sent us in her place."
Edith's eyes widened. "With child?"
"Aye, she is," the other man said, reminding her of his presence. Niels had called him Alick, Edith recalled as she glanced to him. Which meant he was the youngest of the Buchanan boys, Edith thought as she watched the younger man grin widely as he continued, "And we think she's carrying more than one babe. She's only four months along but already big as a cow. Greer will no' even let her go up and down the stairs on her own fer fear she'll lose her footing and roll down like a great ball."
Edith's eyes widened at the news. She couldn't imagine rough-and-tumble Saidh not being able to walk down a set of stairs let alone restricted from riding. She didn't imagine the woman was taking that well. But she didn't understand why Saidh hadn't mentioned being with child in her last letter. At least the last letter she'd read, Edith thought and wondered if she'd received others from her friend since falling ill.
"Alick, go tell Rory she's awake," Niels ordered, walking to the table where the cask sat.
"Aye," the younger man answered and then smiled at her reassuringly as he moved around the bed. "Our Rory's a healer, and the finest one around. Why, he's the one who sorted out that ye were no' ill but being poisoned. He'll have ye feeling right as rain in no time."
Alick Buchanan nodded at her cheerily and turned to hurry out of the room, leaving Edith staring after him with horror. Poison?
"Idiot."
That mutter drew her gaze to Niels. He'd finished filling one of the cups with mead and turned to see her expression. Mouth tight, he shook his head and crossed back to the bed. "Forgive me brother. He has the tact o' a bull at the best o' times."
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"Poison?" she whispered, her voice raspy.
Cursing, he settled on the edge of the bed and slid an arm under Edith to raise her up. "Aye. Poison. But drink this ere ye try to talk again, else ye may do yerself some damage," he said, holding the mug of liquid up to her mouth.
Edith hesitated, more interested in this poison business at the moment, but then she gave in and took a tiny sip. Once the cool, wet liquid hit her mouth, she would have taken more, but wasn't given the option. She barely had a half mouthful before he lowered the drink.
"Just a sip. Ye were no' able to keep it down when last ye woke so we'll go slow this time."
Edith's eyes widened at the claim. "I woke before?"
"Aye," he said dryly. "But ye were a might confused and no' really alert. Ye drank some mead and then tossed it right back up all over me and passed out again. I'd rather no' go through that again."
Edith groaned and lowered her head with embarrassment.
"There's naught to be embarrassed about," Niels said and she could hear the frown in his voice. "I've four younger brothers who I've had to care fer as they tossed up their stomachs . . . and they were no' poisoned. It was just too much drink fer them. With you, well at least ye had a good excuse."
Reminded of the poison, Edith jerked her head up on a frown. "Me father and brothers?"
Niels winced at her raspy voice and raised the mead again. "Another swallow o' this, I think. This time swish it around real good and wet all the corners. Ye're obviously dry as a bone."
Edith dutifully took another mouthful of mead, but the moment she'd swished and swallowed, she asked, "Me father and--"
"Aye. Rory can no' be sure o' course, but he believes they were poisoned too. They had all the same symptoms. Except fer the . . . er . . . stomach issues," he said delicately. "But Rory suspicions that's what saved ye. Ye reacted to the poison and tossed it up each time ye had it. There was no' enough left in ye to kill ye as it did yer father and brothers."
Edith lowered her head on this news, her mind awhirl with grief and anger. It had been bad enough when she'd thought she'd lost her father and two brothers to illness, but to know they had been deliberately killed--Jerking her head up, she asked, "Brodie?"
