“What are ye pondering?” Donald asked.
Alex looked to his longtime friend. “I’m considering how quickly Lena will flee from me when she hears that I have taken her letter and told her sister that I will be traveling to the Steward and taking her with me.”
“What makes ye believe Marsaili will confide in Lena?”
“Because,” Alex said, steepling his fingers in front of him, “she did so before. The lass dunnae wish to betray her family or she would nae have told Lena anything at all. But Marsaili felt she had to. She will do all she can to protect Lena from me, even as she plots to use me to find her bairn.”
“When will ye speak with Marsaili?” Donald asked.
“Tomorrow,” Alex answered, thinking of how he had not held Lena in his arms in two days. He wanted one more night with Lena because he feared that once the wheels of the plot were set in motion, it may very well be the last night he would have with her.
“Lara, where is Greer?” Lena asked when Greer did not appear in the kitchens for the second day in a row.
“She sent word through Baldwin that she has a malady of the stomach.”
Lena frowned. It could be true, but her gut told her it was an excuse not to be seen. Lena knew well about making excuses to hide the bruises on one’s face or arms until they faded enough that people would not gape. In her time with Findlay, she’d lied about having a great many ailments while the real sickness had been in him.
She strummed her fingers on the counter, debating whether she should mind her own business or stick her nose where she knew she was not wanted but was likely needed. It didn’t take long for her to decide that she could not donothing. Too many people had done exactly that when Findlay had been abusing her, and she refused to do the same thing. She’d rather risk being wrong and making Greer angry rather than risk being right and doing nothing to help the woman.
“How do I get to Greer’s cottage?” Lena asked Lara. “I’d like to take her some soup and bread.”
“She’ll nae be pleased if ye do,” Lara gently warned. “She’s been ill many a time before, and myself and others in the kitchen have tried to bring her food. She turned us away without opening the door even once.”
Lara’s revelation made Lena all the more certain her instincts about Greer were correct. “Perchance it is because none of ye bother with her when she’s here in the kitchens,” Lena said softly, hoping to help solve two problems in one day.
Lara’s mouth slipped open, but the woman promptly shut it as her face reddened. Lena feared she’d overstepped until Lara let out a sigh and nodded. “Ye’re correct, and I’m verra shamed. I used to speak with her and think her a friend, but then the laird’s cousin plotted against him, and the whispers amongst the men and women of the clan were that the laird suspected Hamish.” She quirked her mouth. “I suppose I avoided her, as did most others, because of what her brother might have done.”
“Her brother’s doings are nae Greer’s fault,” Lena said fiercely. Anger beat within her breast as she distinctly recalled her own feelings of shame at what Findlay had done to her.
“Aye, my lady, and I’m going to apologize to her the minute I see her. I’ll speak with the other women, too.”
“Oh, no, that—”
Before Lena could voice that speaking to the others might worsen matters, Lara bellowed for the women to listen to her and told them how she and they all had wronged Greer. When the women quickly agreed, many exclaimed how embarrassed they were at how they’d acted and how kind Greer had always been to them. Lena was astonishingly pleased by the way the women seemed to be truly sorry and came together in a scurry of activity to put a basket together for Lena to take to Greer.
Just as Lena was about to depart the kitchen with the basket, Marsaili entered. “Where are ye going?” she asked.
“I’m taking some soup to Greer,” Lena answered, feeling a niggle of guilt as she thought of the letter she’d asked Broch to deliver to Dunvegan. She’d yet to tell Marsaili she’d written to Iain, and she did not have the time to talk to her about it at the moment.
“I’ll walk with ye,” Marsaili offered.
“Nay,” Lena hastily replied, fearing Greer would be less inclined to talk honestly with her if Marsaili was there, as well.
Marsaili scowled and leaned close to whisper, “I need to speak with ye.”
Lena patted Marsaili’s hand, assuming her sister was simply worried that Lena was still vexed. “I want to speak with ye, too,” she promised.
When she went to turn away, Marsaili grabbed her by the elbow. “Did ye tell yer husband about our conversation?” she asked, concern etched into her expression.
Lena shook her head. “Nay. Why?”
Marsaili nibbled on her lip for a long moment before finally shrugging. “I was simply fashed ye may have,” she mumbled. But when her sister did not look her in the eyes when she spoke, Lena felt certain she was not telling the truth. And as much as she wanted to discover what was prompting these questions, she needed to see Greer first.
“Wait here,” she stated firmly, giving Marsaili a narrow-eyed look. “We will speak of truths when I return.”
When Marsaili’s cheeks flushed red, Lena knew her sister was keeping something from her. With a shake of her head to let Marsaili know that she understood she was being deceived, she swung away and strode out the door.
Greer lived on the outskirts of the MacLean lands, so by the time Greer’s cottage came into view, Lena’s irritation with Marsaili had cooled and she’d thought about what she should do. She felt guilty that she’d not yet confided in Alex about Marsaili. She honestly did not believe Alex would join forces with the Steward, but she supposed there was the slightest fear that she was mistaken. She could not let this continue, however. It was wrong not to confide in him and to doubt him.
