“Nay, I suppose not,” Joan agreed slowly and then shrugged and glanced at Saidh. Her mouth opened as if she meant to say something, but then she paused, her eyebrows rising abruptly. “Is all well, Saidh? You look . . .” She hesitated, apparently unsure how to describe how she looked.
Saidh couldn’t blame her, since she wasn’t quite sure how she felt. There was a knot in her stomach made up of a combination of emotions. The few she could pick out of that nauseating miasma were dread, fear, and anxiety. Swallowing the bile that seemed lodged in her throat, she forced a smile that failed miserably, shook her head and admitted, “Fenella is me cousin.”
“Really?” Edith asked with interest and then grinned. “That means me cousin married yer cousin. We’re related.”
“Did ye no’ ken she was married to the MacDonnell?” Murine asked with a frown.
“Nay,” Saidh admitted and then sighed. “In fact, I did no’ ken she’d married again at all after Kennedy.”
“Not even the Laird MacIver?” Murine asked with amazement.
Saidh shook her head. “We attended her first wedding. In fact, we all traveled together on the way home. Buchanan is on the way to Kennedy land. They left with us the morning after the wedding.”
“Ye were with them when Laird Kennedy was killed?” Murine asked almost breathlessly.
Saidh nodded silently.
“But if ye went to her first wedding, surely, ye were invited to the others?” Edith said.
“Nay,” Saidh assured her, and then frowned thoughtfully and added, “Well, actually, we may ha’e been. But mother died shortly after Fenella’s first wedding, and me eldest brother, Aulay, is laird now and does no’ care for large celebrations. He may ha’e just sent a wedding gift with his regrets and neglected to tell the rest o’ us about the weddings.”
“That is probably it, then,” Edith said on a sigh.
Saidh nodded, but her mind was back in a clearing where the Kennedy lay dead and her cousin confessed, I killed him.
“Damn.”
Saidh glanced around with surprise at that curse from Murine. The woman never cursed. Spotting her by the open shutters, Saidh became aware of the sounds coming from outside. Shouts of greeting were joined by the clop clop of what sounded like at least a dozen horses. Curious, she walked over to stand beside Murine and look down at the busy scene below as well. There were not a dozen horses, but at least three dozen, and Joan’s husband Cam was greeting a man who was dismounting. If she were to guess by his posture, Cam didn’t like the man, which was a concern when the visitor had brought such a large contingent of men with him.
“I do no’ recognize the banner,” Saidh said with a frown.
“ ’Tis the Danvries banner,” Murine said grimly.
“Yer brother’s?” Saidh asked, glancing to the woman with surprise.
“Me half brother,” Murine corrected, her voice giving away her contempt. Saidh wasn’t surprised. She and Murine had become good friends, and she knew the woman absolutely loathed her half brother.
“Why would Montrose be here?” she asked quietly, afraid she already knew the answer.
“Papa must ha’e died,” Murine said, a catch in her voice. Releasing a shuddering sigh, she shook her head and closed her eyes. “He has no’ been well fer a while, but had seemed to turn a corner. I felt sure he would recover else I ne’er would have left him to come here.”
“Mayhap not,” Saidh said, though she suspected Murine was right. Biting her lip, she slipped an awkward arm around the other woman in support. It seemed the thing to do. She knew how much Murine adored her father.
“I suppose I should go below and find out one way or the other,” Murine said after a moment.
“I’ll come with ye,” Saidh offered quietly.
“Thank ye,” Murine whispered, and slipped her arm through hers to walk to the door.
Greer heaved a sigh at the sound of distant hoof beats, and reluctantly opened his eyes. Through a frame of green leaves from the trees that surrounded the clearing he was reclining in, he could see that the sky was still a bright, pale blue above him with fluffy white clouds drifting slowly by. He took a minute to guess how much time he had before the approaching horse reached him, and then sighed and raised his head to peer down at the blond head bobbing over his groin.
“Ye’d best leave off that now, lass. We’re about to ha’e company.”
The blond maid removed her mouth from one of his favorite body parts and cast him a pouty look. “But I’ve jest begun.”
“Aye, I ken. Trust me, I ken,” he said dryly and sat up to tuck himself away inside his plaid. “But someone is coming, and by me guess ye’ve just enough time to straighten yer dress ere they arrive.”
Clucking under her tongue with irritation, the woman stood and proceeded to pull up the top of her gown, covering the generous breasts he’d worked so hard to uncover. When she then began to struggle with the lacings, Greer stood to help. He finished with the task just moments before his squire, Alpin, rode into the clearing and brought his pony to a shuddering halt.
“Me laird,” the boy cried, nearly throwing himself off his mount in his eagerness.
Greer reached out a hand to steady the boy and simply waited. Everything was a crisis with his new young squire and Greer had quickly learned not to let the boy’s excitement raise his own.
“Lady Fenella sent me to find ye,” the boy blurted. “She was wondering where ye are.”