“Thank ye,” Saidh murmured and scooped up a treat.
“Come.” Fenella moved back to her bed and settled on it, then patted the space beside her. “We’ll ha’e to eat here since Lady MacDonnell has seen fit to gi’e me such a small room there is no place fer furniture.” She scowled bitterly and then added, “I suppose I’ll ha’e to find another husband unless I wish to sleep in this hard cell fer the rest o’ me life.”
Saidh glanced to her with surprise. Just the day before Fenella had been moaning and weeping all over Greer’s chest, sobbing that Allen was her true love and she would never get over him. Now she was planning to remarry?
Fenella caught her expression and scowled. “I ha’e to be practical, Saidh. I’m a young woman now dependent on the kindness o’ me dead husband’s family who suspect me o’ killing him.”
“Greer does no’ seem to think ye killed Allen,” Saidh said quietly.
“Nay.” Fenella sighed. “He is verra kind too, and handsome in a rough sort o’ way, and seems just as thoughtful and considerate as me Allen was.” She lifted her gaze thoughtfully to the ceiling, and then tapped her chin briefly before murmuring, “I bet he would no’ trouble me with his base needs either. Perhaps like Allen, he is above all that too.”
Saidh pursed her lips, unsure what to say. She could tell Fenella that Allen had left her alone out of lack of interest rather than because he was “above all that.” But that just seemed cruel. There was no need for her to know that now. But neither did Saidh think it was a good idea to assure her that Greer had some very strong base needs indeed, and a strong appetite for them. She might want to know how she knew, so didn’t comment on it at all, and simply changed the subject.
“Fenella, tell me about yer marriages.” Saidh winced as the words came out of her mouth. The question wasn’t accusatory, but it certainly hadn’t been as nonchalant as she’d hoped, or suggestive of a desire to chat and giggle about men the way women do either. But then, Saidh wasn’t the sort to chat and giggle . . . well, usually, she acknowledged to herself. She had chatted quite a bit with Joan, Murine and Edith, and had even giggled with them a time or two, something she’d never done before.
Actually, she realized, Joan, Murine and Edith were the first female friends she’d ever had aside from her mother, who had been both friend and mother to her. Goodness, chatting and giggling with females, wearing her hair in this fancy style . . .’Twas as if she were growing out of the boyish ways she’d always embraced and turning into a girl, she thought with dismay. Next she’d be rubbing berries into her cheeks and on her lips, and going without braies.
Never! She thought grimly, but then reconsidered as it occurred to her that it would make it much easier for Greer to tumble her if she didn’t wear braies under her skirts. He could just lift her skirt and his plaid and—
“What do ye want to ken? I already told ye about them.”
Saidh blinked at those words and found Fenella peering at her almost resentfully. She hesitated, trying to think of a diplomatic way to find out what she needed to know, but really, there didn’t seem to be one. Besides, it did seem to her that catching Fenella by surprise was more likely to give her the truth than beating about the bush and hoping the truth would fall out. Sighing, she sat up straight, looked her in the eye and asked, “Did ye ken Lady MacDonnell attended yer marriage to the senior MacIver?”
Fenella blinked in surprise. “Nay. Did she?”
“Aye. In fact, she is one o’ the women who helped wash and prepare the body fer burial.”
“Oh.” Fenella grimaced. “They all thought I should help, but I did no’ ken what to do. Besides, I’d just lost me husband and was no’ sure where things stood or what would happen to me next. I was in no fit state fer it.”
“I’m sure she understood that. But, ye see, the problem is—and the reason Lady MacDonnell suspects ye o’ ha’ing something to do with Allen’s death, is that while she was washing the MacIver’s face, she noted that his eyes were bloodshot, and that there was a goose feather in his mouth, both suggestive that he may ha’e been smothered with a pillow.”
Fenella sat frozen for a long moment and then launched to her feet and rounded on her furiously. “Ye think I killed me husbands,” she accused grimly.
Saidh stood up, shoulders straight, and met her gaze firmly. “I ken ye killed the first one,” she reminded her quietly. “What I’m trying to do now is reassure meself that ye did no’ kill the others as well. Four dead husbands in four years does seem like a lot o’ bad luck fer one bride to suffer.”
Fenella’s shoulders sagged abruptly and she shook her head, saying sadly, “Oh, Saidh. Ye too?”
Saidh’s gave up her stiff stance and sighed. “Fenella, I just—”
“Get out,” Fenella interrupted quietly.
“I—”
“Get out!” Fenella roared, and then hurried to the table to grab up the applemoyse and turned to throw it at her. “And take yer damned food with ye.”
Saidh instinctively ducked, then turned to see the applemoyse a crushed mess that was slowly running down the door behind her. She didn’t stop to collect it, or clean the mess. That was Fenella’s problem. She’d made it, she thought grimly as she slipped from the room.
Saidh paused in the hall after pulling the door closed, then hesitated. She had intended to check on Lady MacDonnell after seeing Fenella, but really wasn’t in the mood. Still, the lady had been kind to her, and had even dragged herself from her sickbed to check on her last night when she’d screamed. And, as Fenella had pointed out, she had been rude in not even opening the door to her. Of course, she hadn’t been able to at that point. She’d been naked and pinned to the bed by Greer’s large body. Still, she should thank the lady for her concern and apologize to her for causing it.
Sighing, Saidh turned and headed for the lady’s room.
Chapter 9