taking care of her other nightly ablutions. It was as if the air crackled with magical energy and she could not settle down to rest.
Donning her clothes again, she decided to go back to the great hall. The night had grown cold and maybe a fire had been built. She'd always found staring into the fire made her sleepy. At the very least, climbing the long spiraling staircase down and up again should tire her out sufficiently to rest.
When she reached the great hall, it was empty but for Ulf and Lachlan. They were arguing and did not notice her. She did not want to interrupt them, but she also didn't want to go back up the stairs so soon.
Perhaps if she waited in the shadows, they would leave and she could sit beside the fire that had indeed been built in the huge fireplace on the other side of the hall. She looked at it longingly as the cold from the stone wall she leaned against seeped into her bones.
Shivering, she sidled sideways, hoping to make it to the fireplace without being noticed. She stayed in the shadows and was as quiet as possible. Not that the two angry men were likely to notice her regardless.
'You do not believe the Sinclair means to do nothing in retaliation?' Ulf demanded sneeringly.
If she were Lachlan, she'd get plenty annoyed with the way his brother always questioned him and did it so provokingly.
'You do not think he believes I was right in gaining restitution through his sister?' Lachlan asked mildly.
'No. He plans war. I am sure of it.'
'But our spies have seen no evidence of this.'
'He is cunning.'
'And you do not think I am equally cunning?' Lachlan asked.
'Not if you are so easily deceived.'
'And if I have not been deceived?'
Ulf made that annoying snorting noise of his and Emily stopped her approach to the fire to glare at him. He, of course, did not notice. He didn't even know she was there.
'I say attack before we are attacked.'
The words appalled Emily and it was all she could do not to shout a denial. Did the man truly not care how many Balmorals or Sinclairs died over this business?
Lachlan looked past Ulf, and Emily felt as if he were looking directly at her. But that could not be possible. She was in a very dark corner behind one of the stone arches supporting the ceiling of the room.
He said, 'I chose a different form of retribution than war.'
'It is not enough. We should take Susannah back and kill the blacksmith.'
Emily's hand flew to her mouth.
Lachlan frowned. 'You are bloodthirsty, Ulf.'
'I am my father's son… can the same be said of you?'
Instead of being furious, as Emily would have expected, Lachlan looked exasperated. 'What would you have me do? Siege the castle?'
'Lead a raiding party over the walls. Effect your vengeance and leave.'
'I rejected that suggestion the first time you made it.'
'Because you prefer to avoid bloodshed?' Ulf spat.
'Because it is a stupid form of revenge and I liked my plan better.' This time his voice was chilling and Emily thought Lachlan's patience had finally been exhausted.
She continued on her journey toward the fireplace, but realized she could not get as close to it as she wanted without revealing herself. Still, some of its heat reached her where she hung back in the shadows.
'You dare to call me stupid?'
'It was your plan I said was stupid, but I ask you now… do you dare to challenge me?'
Ulf's jaw clenched, but he did not answer.
The air inside the great hall crackled and seethed with potential violence.
Emily crowded back into her hidden nook, hoping Ulf would not be
Realizing the alternative, she could finally see that his choice to use Cait to effect the redress was not a matter of taking his anger out on an innocent woman. It was, in fact, his solution to a problem that would otherwise have resulted in bloodshed and much grief.
Cait and she were both better off among the Balmoral. Emily could admit that. Cait was either very close to being, or was already in love with her husband, and Emily grew nauseated at the thought of allowing Talorc to touch her the way Lachlan had done. From what Cait said, Susannah was very happy with Magnus. She would be devastated if he were killed by her former clan.
Lachlan had made a choice that embraced life rather than undervalued it. She did not know if her own father would have been as wise. Ulf certainly was not.
Neither he nor Lachlan had moved for the past several seconds. Emily held her breath in anticipation of what would come next.
Lachlan's hands settled on his hips and he seemed to tower over his brother even though they were close in height. 'Show throat or fetch your sword.'
'Wolves show throat; I am human.'
Emily bit her lip.
'You are Chrechte. You are my brother.'
Ulf gave a single jerk of his head and then tilted it sideways, exposing his throat.
Lachlan said something Emily did not understand. It did not sound Gaelic to her. Ulf replied, his words just as incomprehensible, spun on his heel and left the great hall.
Emily silently let out the breath she'd been holding and realized she was shaking violently.
Lachlan looked toward where she hid. 'Come here, English.'
And in that moment she knew Cait had told the truth, about everything. Ulf had not known she was there, she was sure of it, but Lachlan had known even though he had pretended not to notice. When she had thought he was looking at her, he had been. But most convincing of all was his demand that Ulf show throat. It was not a human tradition and yet it had placated him in the face of terrible fury.
Her father would have demanded a soldier kneel at his feet. Even then, he might have beaten him for his insubordination.
Knowing that she had no hope of hiding, she stepped into the glow cast by the candles lighting the hall. 'Why didn't you say something?'
'The situation was volatile enough. You bring out the worst in my brother. I did not want him challenging me out of pricked pride.'
'I do not mean to bring out the worst.'
'I do not blame you.'
'You don't? Even though I have a sharp tongue?'
'I like your sharp tongue, but Ulf is not so tolerant.'
'Oh.' She licked her lips. 'So, I can be plainspoken with you and you will not be offended?'
'If you offend me, I will seek retribution, but not of the kind my brother would like to mete out.'
For some reason, that promise made her want to offend him rather than fear doing so.
He smiled as if he knew.
She swallowed. 'You do not want to kill your brother.'
'Is that such a surprise to you, or do the English not balk at killing their family?' He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression relaxed, but there was a tension about him that the calm stance and expression could not hide.
'I thought you did not care who you hurt as long as you got your own way.'
'Did you?'
She licked her lips. 'I was wrong.'
He gave her a questioning look.
'About the revenge… you could have done far worse than to take Cait and see her mated to your first-in- command.'
