The Highlander Takes a Bride (19 page)

“Here we go,” Lady MacDonnell said as she pulled the door open wide.

Sighing, Saidh shuffled forward again, trying not to think about just how far away the garderobe still was. It was at the opposite end of the hall. By her guess she had to travel at least three times the distance she’d just traversed, possibly five or six times and she was beginning to seriously doubt she could manage it. Chances were she’d collapse before she got halfway there and then further humiliate herself by relieving herself there on the hall floor.

“Saidh!”

Pausing, she glanced up sharply to see Greer rushing toward her from the open door of the room she’d occupied since arriving.

“Ye were supposed to fetch me if she woke,” Greer growled as he scooped Saidh off her feet.

“I was going to, dear,” Aunt Tilda assured him. “But she needs to use the garderobe. Once we’d tended to that, I would ha’e fetched ye. I promise.”

Greer had been about to carry her back into the master bedchamber, but paused abruptly and turned to head down the hall instead. “I’ll take her. Ye should go and get some rest, Aunt Tilda. Ye sat up with her all night. Thank ye fer that,” he added.

“Aye, thank ye, Aunt Tilda,” Saidh said over Greer’s shoulder, managing a smile despite the fact that her mind was now racing with the worry that her husband was taking her to the garderobe. How embarrassing was that?

“ ’Twas my pleasure, dear,” Aunt Tilda called out just before Greer paused and shifted her so that he could open the door to the garderobe.

Saidh swiveled forward again to glance around with alarm as he carried her inside the tiny room. There were two garderobes at MacDonnell. One large one with a long bench with several holes in it where many could tend their needs at the same time, and then this one, a very narrow cubicle with a small bench seat and one hole. It was not made to house two people, but Greer didn’t seem to care. He was obviously aware of it since he had to maneuver carefully to avoid banging her head or legs into the walls, but it didn’t stop his entering.

Saidh breathed a little sigh of relief when he set her on her feet. She then peered up at him expectantly.

Greer raised an eyebrow and frowned at her expression. “Do ye need me to lift yer nightshirt fer ye?”

Saidh blinked in dismay. “Nay!”

“Then what are ye waiting fer? Get to it,” he said with a frown.

“I am waiting fer ye to leave and give me some privacy,” Saidh said dryly.

That made him frown. “But what if ye need me?”

“I do no’ think I need help with this task me laird husband,” Saidh said solemnly. “But ye can wait outside the door and I’ll shout if I do.”

“Verra well,” he said unhappily, but hesitated briefly, then bent to press a kiss to her forehead. “ ’Tis happy I am to see ye up and about, Saidh,” he said huskily. “I was verra worried about ye.”

“Thank ye,” Saidh murmured, but he’d already turned and slipped out of the room.

Sighing, Saidh shook her head, hiked up her sleeping gown and sat down. She was thankful to be able to do so and not just because her need to relieve herself had become a desperate one. Saidh was also more than grateful to be off her feet. She really was pathetically weak just now, and was quite sure she never would have made it to the garderobe without Greer. Even with Aunt Tilda helping her. Hopefully this was a temporary situation, she thought, as she finished her business and stood to open the door.

Greer must have been watching the door. Saidh had barely begun to push it open when he finished the task for her. The moment she stepped out into the hall, he scooped her back up into his arms.

Saidh settled against his chest and let her forehead rest against his throat. She found herself inhaling the clean, woodsy scent of him and smiled as she did it. He smelled delicious, like the clearing by the loch.

“Ye’ve been swimming in the loch,” she murmured.

“I slipped away fer a quick dip last night when Aunt Tilda sent me away to sleep,” he admitted and then wrinkled his nose and admitted, “I would no’ ha’e slept otherwise. Rory got some o’ that vile-smelling tincture of his on me while he was cleaning yer wound. After two days of it in me nose, I was glad to make a quick run down to the loch to wash it away.

Saidh murmured understandingly and then stiffened when he added, “Mind ye, you still reek of the stuff, but there’s nothing we can do about that just now. I doubt Rory would be happy did I take ye down and dunk ye in the loch, even to remove that stench.”

“Mayhap ye should anyway,” Saidh said with a grimace. She’d been aware of the sickly scent clinging to her, if only on the periphery of her mind, but most of her attention had been on getting to the garderobe before this. However, now that need had been tended to, it was impossible to ignore the stench coming off of her. It was really rather unpleasant.

“Do no’ tempt me, lass,” Greer said with a teasing smile. “Yer brother Rory would probably drop some poison in me ale fer punishment did I do that. One that would keep me in the garderobe for a day or two.”

That comment made her grin with amusement. “Someone told ye o’ the time he did that to Dougall?”

“He did himself. Yer brothers ha’e spent a lot o’ time at yer bedside with me while ye were sleeping and we talked some,” he said quietly, and then added, “Rory and I were planning to sit with ye again last night. We only left ye because Aunt Tilda and Aulay insisted we needed sleep else we’d be no good to ye when ye did wake up.” Frowning, he added, “Speaking o’ which, Aulay was supposed to be sitting with Aunt Tilda. Why did he no’ carry ye to the garderobe?”

“Aulay was no’ there when I woke up,” she told him. “It was just me, Aunt Tilda and Alpin in the room.”

Greer slowed to glance at her with surprise. “Really?”

“Aye.”

He shook his head with disgruntlement. “I would no’ ha’e thought yer brother the sort to renege on his agreements, and he vowed to me that he’d sit and guard ye through the night.”

“And I did,” Aulay announced, drawing their attention to the stairs as he stepped onto the landing. “I only left but moments ago because yer Aunt Tilda asked me to fetch her some cider, and as ye can see, I was quick about it.” Pausing next to Greer, Aulay reached out with the hand not holding the cider and caressed her cheek affectionately. “ ’Tis good to see ye up and about, lass. We were beginning to despair o’ ye e’er waking.”

“I kenned it! No faith at all in me skills as healer, brother.”

Saidh shifted to glance over Greer’s shoulder at those words and smiled when she saw Rory approaching. “Good morn, brother.”

“Good morn, sister,” he responded as Greer turned with Saidh to face him. Rory then reached out to place the back of his hand to her forehead and nodded with satisfaction. “No fever.”

“Did I have one?” she asked with a frown. “Is that why I slept two days and three nights?”

“Nay. Fortunately, ye managed to avoid the fever that often follows such wounds. I just wanted to be certain ye had no’ developed one while I slept,” he said with a crooked smile, and then added, “And ye slept so long because ye lost so much blood. Yer body needed to build it back up.”

“Oh,” Saidh murmured as Greer turned to continue to the master bedchamber. Both Aulay and Rory followed.

As Greer carried her into the room, he announced, “Saidh would like a bath.”

“Absolutely no’,” Rory responded at once.

“E’en if I promise no’ to get me wound wet?” she asked over her husband’s shoulder as her two brothers followed them into the room. “I smell fair fou’, Rory. I can barely stand to smell meself.”

“A bath’ll no’ improve that,” he told her with amusement. “It’s me tinctures and salves that smell so bad and I’m going to be slathering them on ye repeatedly and often until ye heal.”

Saidh grimaced at this news and then glanced around as Greer paused and bent to set her in the bed. Alpin was still sound asleep, she saw. He was also extremely pale and the sight made her frown. “Is he still feverish?”

“Nay,” Rory murmured, moving around the bed to peer down at the boy. “His fever broke yesterday afternoon, but he’s still weak and like to sleep a lot for the next couple o’ days as he recovers.”

Saidh nodded and then glanced toward Aulay and the drink he held. Her mouth was as dry as old bones in a crypt. “Since Aunt Tilda has gone to find her bed, do ye think I could ha’e her cider, Aulay?”

“O’ course.” Aulay moved up next to Greer and held out the drink, but Rory leaned across the bed to snatch it away before she could even think of taking it.

“Nay. She has no’ eaten or had anything to drink fer two days and three nights. Cider is too rich fer her stomach just now. Fetch some broth from Cook. ’Twill be all she can stomach jest now.”

Saidh grimaced at the words. She hadn’t been hungry until Aulay had mentioned food, but now that food had been mentioned, broth seemed a poor offering indeed.

Casting her a sympathetic glance, Aulay nodded and slipped from the room. No doubt to fetch the dratted broth, she thought on a sigh and glanced at Rory as he settled into the chair on Alpin’s side of the bed.

“Wife?”

Saidh turned to Greer, smiling faintly at the title. She was his wife now. They’d consummated the marriage by the loch before she’d been injured.

“Did ye see who shot ye?”

Saidh’s smile faded at the question and she grimaced and shook her head. “Nay, but then I did no’ get much chance to look. ’Twas most unexpected and knocked me out o’ the saddle.” She frowned. “Is me mare—”

“She’s fine. She was standing beside ye when I found ye,” he assured her. “She followed us back to the keep and is safely in her stall.”

Saidh nodded and relaxed at this news. She hadn’t really worried that the mare would run off—she’d had her for years and she was a faithful beast—but whoever had shot her might have shot her mare as well.

“Greer had his men search the woods fer bandits afterward, but they did no’ find anything,” Rory informed her.

Saidh’s eyebrows rose. “Do ye ha’e trouble with bandits here at MacDonnell?”

“According to Bowie, nay,” Greer said with a frown. “But who else would want to shoot ye?”

“Mayhap ’twas an accident?” Rory suggested when Saidh remained silently frowning over the question. “A stray arrow from a hunter?”

“Mayhap,” Greer murmured, but he looked doubtful and she couldn’t blame him. Peasants generally weren’t allowed to hunt in the laird’s woods and few would risk their laird’s wrath to do so, especially so close to the castle. But if it wasn’t bandits or a hunter’s stray arrow, who had shot her?

Saidh shifted uncomfortably as that question drifted through her head. There was only one person she could think of who might want to shoot her. Fenella had been very angry when Saidh had started asking her questions about the deaths of her husbands . . . and then too, before she’d got upset with Saidh, Fenella had mentioned something about possibly marrying Greer herself. No doubt the news that he had married Saidh had come as something of an unpleasant surprise.

“Barely awake but moments and scowling a’ready. That’s our Saidh.”

Saidh glanced toward the door with surprise at that happy croon to see Geordie leading Dougall, Alick, Niels and Conran into the room. Every one of them was grinning, even Dougall, who rarely smiled.

“Aulay said ye were up,” Niels announced as her brothers moved up to the bed and took turns hugging her.

“About time too,” Dougall groused as he bent to give her an almost painful squeeze of greeting. Before releasing her, he muttered, “Ye scared us all silly with that nonsense. Do no’ do it again.”

When Saidh smiled faintly at the order and nodded, he straightened and stepped aside to let Alick take his place and greet her.

“Did ye ask her if she saw who shot her?” Geordie asked as Niels replaced Alick to give her a hug.

“Aye. She did no’ see,” Greer said glumly.

Silence reigned briefly as the men all stood about staring at her with varying expressions that ranged from concern to displeasure and then Dougall ran a hand over his shaved head and glanced to Greer to say, “Then it looks like ye’ve go’ us fer company fer a bit.”

“At least until we sort out this business,” Geordie said with a nod that the others echoed.

Much to her surprise, Greer didn’t look the least upset by the suggestion, but nodded as well and murmured, “Thank ye.”

“No need to thank us,” Dougall said firmly, patting his shoulder gently. “She’s our sister. We want whoever did this as much as ye do, and we’re happy to help.”

Saidh blinked in amazement at this. The last she knew, Dougall hadn’t cared for her husband. Or at least, he’d acted as if he didn’t. Now he was treating him as if he were an old friend or something. What the devil had happened while she was sleeping?

“We can take it in shifts,” Dougall announced. “Two with her at all times during the day, and two outside yer room at night.”

“I was thinking four men when I thought it would be me soldiers,” Greer admitted. “But I’ve seen the way you lads fight and two o’ ye ought to do it.”

“Hold on,” Saidh said with a frown as her brothers preened under the praise. “What are ye talking about?”

“Yer guard,” Alick explained. “Ye’ll ha’e two o’ us with ye at all times until we sort out who shot ye and ensure they can no’ do it again.”

Saidh gaped at them. She was going to have guards? Like she was some puling female who knew not how to defend herself? Oh, they had another think coming if they thought she was going to allow that.

“Ye’d ha’e done better to keep that information to yourselves and simply let her think ye enjoyed her company. Now she’ll fight us,” Aulay said dryly from the doorway, drawing their attention to his return and the fact that he must have been there for a bit to have heard the conversation. Shaking his head, he moved into the room and set a bowl of what she supposed was broth on the bedside table.

“Damn right, I’ll fight it,” Saidh snapped. “I ha’e no need o’ a guard to protect me and ye should all ken that. Ye’re the ones who taught me to defend meself.”

“Saidh, someone shot ye,” Alick pointed out reasonably.

“Aye, and me having two o’ ye riding at me side would no’ ha’e prevented that,” she snapped impatiently.