“A ghost?” Deidra asked, her fist curled into William’s plaid. She stared up at Lady Kincreag, awestruck.
The countess smiled and knelt delicately in front of Deidra. “Aye. There are ghosts, Dede, but you mustn’t be afraid of them, do you understand?”
Deidra nodded but looked unconvinced. Her face was dirty, and her hair had not been combed. A blue ribbon was impossibly knotted into her curly hair. William was annoyed at himself for not noticing her dishevelment before. He and Drake were poor substitutes for Deidra’s late mother. The child ran wild and refused to listen to the women he assigned to look after her and keep her clean. He was the only one—until Rose—who was able to do anything with the child’s appearance, and it was such a trial for him that he generally “forgot.” And Drake was no help. As far as he was concerned, Dede always looked just fine.
William caught her arm and scrubbed at her face with the corner of her arisaid while she twisted and whined. Finally she slipped from his grasp and came to stand beside the countess, who’d resumed her sorting.
“What do the ghosts look like?”
“Not so different from us,” the countess said. “Not scary at all, really, once you get past the fact they’re dead. Just remember they cannot hurt you and most are as frightened of you as you are of them.”
Deidra cocked her head in surprise. “Really? Zounds!”
The countess laughed. “She is delightful! And look.” She nodded to a gray deerhound bounding across the bailey. It leapt onto Deidra, who squealed with surprise, then giggled. They played for a minute, then both dog and child settled on the ground, facing each other. They proceeded to stare at each other, hardly moving, though occasionally an expression of happiness, or sympathy, or consternation would cross Deidra’s face.
William exchanged a worried look with his brother, who just shrugged, undisturbed by this bizarre behavior. William glanced surreptitiously around the bailey, but no one else appeared to take note of child and dog obviously carrying on a conversation. To William’s eyes it was obvious, but he tried to see it as the others might—just a wee lassie admiring a dog, perhaps even reluctant to touch it, though the deerhound was hardly a threat to anything but a soup bone. After a moment, Deidra began to pet the dog, which eased the tightness in his chest.
“Lord Strathwick,” Dame Isobel said, distracting him from his daughter. “Why do you not aid Rose in the village?” She gave him a knowing smile. Had she seen something? A vision about him and Rose? That was a troubling thought.
“She didn’t ask.”
Dame Isobel raised a red-blond brow. “Need you an invitation? Aren’t you a healer?”
“He’s also a chief,” the countess said mildly, giving her sister a frown. “Perhaps he doesn’t fancy spending his days in such labor.”
“Aye,” Drake said. “He can’t be wasting himself on minor ailments.”
In truth William really wasn’t much of a healer beyond what he accomplished through witchcraft. Hedidsave himself for dire illnesses contracted by those he cared for. He would not be capable of carrying out his duties as chief of the MacKays otherwise.
“What of her betrothed?” William asked as casually as he could manage. “Is he not with her?”
“No,” Dame Isobel said. “She left before dawn. I doubt Lord MacPherson is even out of bed at this hour.”
William knew that Rose had spent very little time with MacPherson last night, as she’d returned to her room alone. And she wasn’t with him this morning, either. He smiled, grimly pleased. “Perhaps I should go down to the village and aid Rose.”
Dame Isobel smiled down at the garment the countess absently handed to her.
“She is a fine healer, though,” William said thoughtfully. “It’s doubtful there is much I can do to aid her. Still, a woman shouldn’t be wandering the village alone.”
The countess gazed at him speculatively. “You’re quite right, my lord. She should have an escort. She goes about far too often without one.”
“It’s settled then.” William was turning, eager to leave, when Roderick joined them, looking distinctly displeased. Deidra stood up and grabbed her uncle’s hand, hiding behind him. The dog also retreated, crouching behind the countess’s skirts.
“What is this?” Roderick cried, hands fisted on his hips. “My nieces doing laundry? A countess, no less! Gillian, mind your place. You’re not a chieftain’s daughter anymore but an earl’s wife.”
“We’re not doing laundry, Uncle Roderick.” The countess smiled, shaking out another stained shirt. “Isobel is trying to discover who wishes to harm Father.”
Roderick scowled at William but said no more. After another sour look at his nieces, he turned on his heel and continued on his way.
“His milk must’ve been curdled this morn,” the countess muttered to her sister.
Dame Isobel snorted. “Every morn, you mean.”
The countess smiled at William and said, “Deidra can stay with us if you’re going to the village.”
William looked at Deidra to see what she wished, but she paid no attention, staring after Roderick.
Drake nodded his chin in the direction of the village. “Go on. I’ll stay here with Dede—surely these ladies need an escort, too.” He grinned and winked at the sisters, who looked at each other and laughed.
