Edith stared at the man blankly, wondering who the devil he was and why he was in her room, and then she noticed the woman in bed next to her and peered at her with mingled confusion and concern. She recognized her at once as Victoria’s maid, Effie. But finding her in her bed was somewhat surprising. The fact that the woman looked terribly ill just added to her bewilderment. The old woman was extremely pale, not an ounce of color in her thin, wrinkled skin, and she was completely unmoving too. Effie was so still, Edith wasn’t even sure she was breathing at first. She was beginning to worry the woman was dead when she noted that her chest was rising and lowering the faintest bit with slow, shallow breaths.
Relieved, Edith relaxed and then glanced around her chamber again. Her room was generally neat and tidy, but at present it looked like there really had been an explosion. An empty mug lay on its side on the bedside table, next to one standing up and two empty bowls. A bread crust and another cup and bowl were on the bedside table on the other side, and then a cask sat on the table at the far end of the room with several more metal cups and bowls between it and a small pile of browning vegetable peels. There was also what appeared to be a rabbit pelt, freshly skinned.
Wondering who had held the party in her room while she was sleeping, Edith glanced over the floor now, noting the sacks lined up against the wall. There were four in all with various items spilling out of them—cloth, vegetables, and weapons. And the rush mats on the floor were both crushed and kicked aside, showing a lot of use and definite trails from the door to both the bed and table, and then from both the table and bed to the fireplace, where a pot of something was bubbling over the fire.
Edith didn’t have a clue what to make of all of it, or the fact that there was presently a man at her bedside like some very loud guardian angel.
Or perhaps just a guard.
That last thought was a bit disturbing. Edith knew she’d been sick for a while. The mess in her room suggested it had been quite a while. What had been happening at Drummond while she was out of her head with illness? Had one of the clans they were feuding with learned of the deaths of her father and brothers and decided to take advantage and attack the castle?
The idea was an alarming one, particularly since she had not been awake to aid in defending against such a happenstance. Her brother Brodie, much as she loved him, was spoiled rotten and not the most capable of men. He would be useless in such a situation, she was sure.
Biting her lip, Edith peered warily at the man slumped in the chair next to the bed. He was a big fellow, with wide shoulders and a youthful but not unhandsome face. He was also a complete stranger, not one of the Drummond men. Her gaze dropped to Effie again and she nudged her with her elbow, hoping the woman would wake and tell her what was going on and what had happened while she was ill. When the first nudge had no effect, she gave her a second, firmer poke, but that produced no response either.
Deciding to let the poor woman rest, Edith sat up, or tried. Honestly, it was an effort just to get herself into an upright position. She was as weak as a babe, and had to turn on her side and slide her feet off the bed so her legs hung off of it, and then push herself up into a sitting position.
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 big. 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 order the servants to 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.