The Highlander Takes a Bride (Historical Highland Romance)

“Aye, we would,” Niels allowed with a grin, but then pointed out, “And so would ye.”

“True enough,” Aulay admitted with amusement and then turned to Saidh again and said, “So, who ha’e ye angered since ye left Buchanan?”

“What?” Saidh asked with surprise. “What do ye mean?”

“Well, no one was trying to kill ye at Buchanan,” he pointed out in a perfectly reasonable tone of voice. “So, it stands to reason ’tis someone ye encountered either at Sinclair or here.”

Saidh snorted with disgust. “Oh, aye, blame me. It must be me own fault someone is trying to kill me.”

“Well . . . aye,” Geordie said dryly. “None o’ the rest o’ us ha’e ever had someone try to kill us,” he pointed out and then glanced to Aulay as if for agreement only to freeze briefly as his gaze landed on their brother’s scar. Tearing his gaze away, he quickly tacked on, “Outside o’ battle o’ course.”

“Geordie’s right, Saidh,” Dougall said in a rumble. “None o’ us ha’e had anyone stalking us with murder in mind, but this culprit is the second one to try to kill ye.”

“The second one?” Greer asked, glancing to her sharply.

“ ’Twas nothing,” Saidh assured him and then turned to her brothers to add, “I was no’ the intended victim last year at Sinclair.”

“Ye were!” Conran countered. “Ye told us yerself that the villain was going to kill ye and Jo both.”

“Joe? Who is this Joe?” Greer asked with a frown.

“A dear friend of mine,” Saidh told him before saying impatiently to her brothers, “And I was only a target because the killer wanted to claim I was the killer. It was no’ because I was unliked or anything of that ilk.”

“Well, it wasna because ye were liked either,” Alick said apologetically. “Else she’d ha’e tried to find someone else to kill and blame fer her murders.”

Saidh scowled at her younger brother for the comment and said grimly, “I was in her way and handy.”

“What the devil are ye all talking about?” Greer exploded. “Who tried to kill Saidh? And who is this man, Joe?”

“Jo is no’ a man, she’s Lady Jo Sinclair,” Saidh explained. “And she—”

“We are getting off topic,” Aulay interrupted before Saidh could warm up to the tale. “Ye can explain about the Sinclairs and such later. At present, we need to sort out who would want to kill ye now.”

“Perhaps ’tis another case like the one Saidh just mentioned,” Lady MacDonnell said and Saidh glanced around to see the woman standing behind her. Aunt Tilda smiled down at her briefly, and then continued, “Mayhap this is another case where ’tis no’ that they do no’ like ye, but that yer in the way or some such thing.” She raised a hand to squeeze Saidh’s shoulder and added, “That makes more sense to me than anything else. I can no’ imagine anyone disliking and wanting to kill ye, lass.”

“Thank ye,” Saidh breathed on a little sigh and reached up to squeeze the hand on her shoulder. As much as she hated to admit it, it was a bit distressing to have her own brothers suggesting she was unlikeable enough for people to want to kill her . . . even if she was.

“I do no’ ken,” Conran said dubiously. “She can be a real pain in the arse at times.”

Saidh growled at him and started to rise, but Lady MacDonnell squeezed her shoulder gently, urging her to settle back down on the bench, and said, “Oh, go on with ye, Conran Buchanan. I ken ye love yer sister. Ye all do. Why I’d venture there is no’ a man at this table who would no’ give his life fer her.”

The men all grumbled, but nodded reluctantly and Aunt Tilda’s smile widened. “There ye see! A woman who inspires that kind of loyalty and love surely could no’ ha’e an enemy who wishes to kill her fer her own nature. Nay, I would look fer someone who would benefit from her death, or who sees her as being in their way.”

Silence reigned as everyone at the table considered that.

“I can see I’ve given ye all something to contemplate,” Lady MacDonnell said dryly. “Why do I no’ ask Cook to send out some pasties and drinks fer ye to enjoy while ye think on who might benefit from Saidh’s death? Hmm?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, but turned to head for the kitchens.

“Soooo,” Geordie drawled, glancing between Saidh and Greer. “Who would benefit should Saidh die?”

Greer shook his head with bewilderment. “No one.”

“There’s no ex-lover somewhere who may think they’d ha’e a chance with ye should she die, is there?” Aulay asked.

“O’ course no’,” Greer said with a scowl and then he grimaced and added, “Ere Saidh the only women I was with were lightskirts. Ladies ha’e little interest in mercenaries.”

Aulay nodded and then said almost apologetically, “I had to ask.”

“I suppose,” Greer acknowledged and then rubbed the back of his neck and said, “In truth, I think Aunt Tilda is a long way off the beaten path with that suggestion. There simply is no one who might profit from Saidh’s death.”

“What about Fenella?” Alick asked suddenly, drawing all eyes his way.

Greer scowled at him, and then said staunchly, “I ha’e ne’er touched Fenella, and ne’er would.”

Alick waved that away. “I ne’er thought ye had, but mayhap she feels that Saidh is taking her place and that were she no’ here, she would still be lady o’ the castle.”

“Do no’ be ridiculous,” Geordie said with disgust. “From all I ha’e heard since we got here, Fenella was no longer acting as lady when Saidh arrived. She had retreated to her room and stayed there. We ha’e no e’en seen her since arriving.”