with deadly tusks sometimes traveled in groups.

Talorc had been protecting her, and just like the massive wolf, he had clearly won his fight. He gave her an indecipherable look before turning to dive into the lake.

He did not come out until all the blood was gone.

Abigail had managed to get her plaid on while her husband bathed. He said nothing as he donned his own clothing.

“You are not hurt?” she asked. She had not seen any marks, but she could not be sure.

His jaw set, he shook his head.

“Did you see the wolf? I believe the beast saved my life.” She bit her lip. “Not that you did not protect me, too. Clearly you were in your own battle in the forest, but a second boar came into the clearing.”

“A second boar?”

She nodded and pointed to the bloody carcass. “Over there.”

Talorc stared at her for several tense seconds but said nothing.

She had spent years in silence, but this one felt more than a little uncomfortable. “I must rethink my view on wolves. Niall told me the gray wolf I met at the hot springs would never hurt me. You will probably think me mad, but I believe it was that wolf that helped you save me today.”

“It was.”

“You know this wolf, too? Is he a mascot for the clan then?”

“A mascot? No.”

“But he is a friend to the clan.”

“That is one way to put it.”

Wishing her husband did not look so very stern, she nodded. “What caused the boar to charge, do you think?”

“It is their mating season. Our presence may well have been the only cause.”

“Oh.”

He turned and headed for his horse. She followed, not sure what was going on between them. They had been so happy before the wild boars attacked. It had been upsetting to be sure, but Talorc acted angry. Though not overtly. It was like fury simmered under the surface and she did not understand why.

Was it because he believed he had not protected her enough? If the gray wolf had not shown up, the boar might well have gotten her. Talorc was the sort of man that would find reliance on another, even a wild beast, a trial. He often acted as if he believed he and he alone was responsible for the safety and well-being of his people.

He pushed himself and his warriors harder than any English baron she had ever seen or heard of.

Their ride back to the fortress was a silent one. Despite riding pressed one to the other, Talorc held himself apart from her behind an invisible but undeniable wall of hostility. Abigail made no attempt to speak, not knowing what to say. She only wished she understood what had upset Talorc.

When they returned to the keep, he led her directly to the great hall. She was surprised to find a handful of his elite warriors seated at one of the banquet tables. The evening meal was still a couple of hours off and the warriors did not usually come inside to congregate this early in the day. But Niall, Barr, Earc, Fionn and Airril were all there, along with Osgard’s glowering presence.

Una served water and mead to the seated warriors before scurrying from the hall with a single, baffled, backward glance at Abigail.

Guaire was there as well, standing on the other side of the room from the warriors, though he looked as puzzled by the presence of the other men as Abigail.

Talorc stopped in the middle of the hall with her. “Turn your back to the soldiers,” he instructed.

“What? Why?” She worriedly bit at her bottom lip. Turning her back on others was a recipe for disaster in Abigail’s silent world.

Anger simmered in his blue gaze. “Just do it.”

She did not understand his request and liked it even less, but she did not think now was the time to argue.

Hoping against hope that he would not speak while her back was to him, she turned. Talorc moved so that he had a view of both her face and the soldiers behind her. Because of his position away from the other soldiers, Guaire was the only other person whose face she coud see.

With a sick feeling, she suddenly began to realize what might be happening. Her stomach lurched while her hands grew clammy and her head buzzed with dizzy terror. She could not force herself to ask again what was happening because she feared she already knew.

She was being tested, and if what she suspected was true, the covering she had worked so hard to hide her secret behind was being ripped away with ruthless efficiency. She could pretend to “hear” whatever Talorc had instructed his men to do behind her. She could keep lying through her actions, if not her words, but there was no strength left in her for the subterfuge.

And it probably wouldn’t work anyway.

As he stared at her, a look of horrified understanding dawned in Guaire’s usually warm green eyes. The horror turned to unmistakable pity as she felt the color drain from her face.

Talorc knew. They all knew. Her affliction had been laid bare.

Somehow Talorc had realized the truth of Abigail’s infirmity at the lake and he had brought her back here to test his new knowledge in front of his warriors. Darkness played at the edges of Abigail’s vision, but she refused to give in to the weakness. She would not faint.

But it took several deep breaths before her body was in agreement with the conviction of her mind.

Pain lancing through her, she faced her husband in silent entreaty.

But there was no mercy to be found in him. His countenance was so dark with anger she flinched away from him.

A look of disgust crossed his features. “Have you kept so much of yourself hidden you do not know me any better than that? I will never hit you.”

The words were harsh, but his expression was harsher.

It was just as she had feared. He knew she was deaf and now he hated her. She was flawed and he did not want her anymore. Like many in the Church, he believed her infirmity deserved punishment rather than compassion.

“You are deaf,” he said with clear antipathy, confirming her fear.

Everything inside her stilled as hope drained away to leave her hollow. The time for acknowledging the truth had come. “I—”

“Dinna lie to me,” he said, interrupting her confession. “Though that is all you have done since the moment of our meeting.”

She shook her head. That was not true. She had hidden her affliction, but she had not lied about anything else. Not ever.

His glare turned sulfuric. “You cannot deny it. I shouted a warning when I heard the swine coming through the forest, but you did not react in any way. Then, just now, I had my soldiers yell a war cry and you did not so much as twitch though such a noise would have sent even a seasoned warrior running.”

“I was concentrating on my pleats.” And she had not been looking at him to read his lips. She did not care about what had just happened. He had only been testing the new knowledge, not discovering it.

“There were many signs, I cannot believe it took me so long to realize the truth.”

“I had many years’ experience learning to hide my affliction.” And she had had a compelling reason to keep it hidden, one that grew more important each day—her love for and desire to stay with the man who now hated her.

“How is it that you speak?” he demanded.

“I did not lose my hearing to a fever until my tenth year.”

“And you have lied about the truth of your condition since then?”

“Yes.”

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