“I would protect her with my life.”
Abigail believed him; there was nothing but sincerity and an inexplicable sadness in his eyes.
“She is more than a responsibility to you.” Guaire was not giving any quarter. “She is your friend. Or at least I thought so.”
“I believed so as well.”
“What? So you don’t believe it any longer?”
“She deceived my laird. She hurt him. She deceived me.”
“She had her reasons.”
“They don’t matter.”
Abigail feared her husband shared his warrior’s belief.
“They do.”
“She doesn’t need my friendship, she has yours.”
Abigail could not stand it any longer. She headed toward the two arguing men. So intent was she on reaching them she did not immediately take note of the vibrations of the ground. When she did, she instinctively moved to the side, turning to see what was making the earth shake.
Talorc’s giant black stallion was almost upon her. She’d moved away from his path, but not enough. Realizing it, she dived to the ground, rolling farther away from the deadly path of the beast.
She felt the rush of air as he charged behind her. Now that was what she called close. Shaking a little from the near mishap, she stood and dusted off her plaid. Only then did she notice the soldiers running toward her.
Niall got there first. “Are you harmed?”
“No.” She tried a tentative smile that was not returned. “Just a little shaken.”
“Several of the clan yelled a warning, but you did not hear.” He didn’t appear to be making an accusation so much as an observation.
Nevertheless, a blush of humiliation crawled up her body. “No, I do not hear anything.”
“How did you know to move away, then?” he asked, curiosity and concern both there for her to see in the way he watched her.
“I felt the earth pound beneath my feet.”
“Aye, that is our lady,” one of the soldiers said.
The sting of humiliation faded a little.
Guaire reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Well done.” He glared up at Niall. “Even if some are too damn stubborn and mean to admit it.”
She grabbed Guaire’s hand. “Don’t.”
“I’ll not tolerate him treating you so coldly.”
“Guaire . . .” She sighed and said what needed saying. “My deception hurt him.”
“I do not need you defending me to my . . . to Guaire,” Niall said, a sulfuric glare encompassing them both. Then he stormed away, toward the training ground, knocking two soldiers right on their bums on the way.
“What is the matter with him?” Earc asked.
Abigail and Guaire both shrugged helplessly. Barr came walking up, leading the still-agitated beast between two of the more seasoned Chrechte soldiers.
“Is he all right?”
“Is who all right, lady?” Earc asked.
“Talorc’s horse,” she said, replying to Earc but fixing her gaze on Barr.
“He is under control.”
“You must find whoever is responsible for upsetting him so. I dare say you’ll find the culprit among the youth. A prank they had no idea could have such serious consequences, but that cannot be repeated.” She bit her lip, looking at the poor lathered horse. “I wish Talorc were here, he could calm the beast more quickly.”
“If our laird were back from hunting, I do not believe his first concern would be for his horse,” Barr said with an amused look.
Abigail grimaced. “If you say so.” But she wasn’t convinced of Barr’s point of view. Not at all.
“What’s got Niall in a more foul mood than usual?” Earc asked. “Even with a hangover, he isn’t usually such a bastard.”
Barr glared at the warrior.
“That is, I mean . . .” Earc stumbled over his words most uncharacteristically.
Barr looked at Abigail’s hand still resting on Guaire’s. “I believe you will find the reason for my brother’s anger in something other than the tail end of a whiskey cask.”
Abigail dropped her hand, still not really understanding what had Niall so upset. She thought it was discovering her secret, but now Barr implied Niall was jealous maybe? Of what? Her friendship with Guaire? That made no sense.
He was not so petty.
Without further elucidation, Barr led the horse toward the stables.
Guaire watched the other man’s progress for several seconds before shaking his head and sighing. He turned to Abigail. “Are you ready to return to the keep?”
“I don’t think you can call that stone castle a keep,” she said, renewing an argument they’d had when she first arrived.
“But castles are taxed, my lady.”
“Then by all means, lead me to the
They made it there eventually. After several clan members had expressed both their gladness that Abigail had not been hurt and their appreciation of her cleverness in moving out of the horse’s way despite her inability to hear the shouted warnings.
Talorc returned to the fortress just before the evening meal. His hunt had been successful and he delivered the boar to Una in the kitchens.
She praised his hunting skills and then gave him a look of commiseration. “I am sorry, laird.”
“What are you sorry for?” he asked, with little interest. His thoughts were elsewhere, as they had been all day.
“That you were tricked into marrying a woman both flawed and so full of deceptive wiles.” She made a
He didn’t either, but he was grateful if that were true. He wasn’t looking forward to having to protect Abigail from her own clan.
Not really wanting to get into a discussion with the widow, he simply shrugged. And then could not help thinking the action would have had his angel glaring at him rather than looking overly sympathetic as Una did.
Feeling uncomfortable from the brief conversation for no reason he could fathom, Talorc went to the great hall to join his soldiers and his wife.
She was already seated in her customary place at the banquet table. Her hair shone golden, her curls smooth as if she had just brushed them. She’d donned one of her embroidered blouses with her plaid and it struck him she had made her best efforts to look lovely for him.
At least it had better be for him.
He looked down at his plaid with small blood spatters caused by carrying the pig and gave a mental shrug. He was no woman to worry about his appearance, but perhaps he could have washed off the sweat from his walk back to the fortress before joining her in the hall.
There was nothing to be done about it now. He walked toward the table, his attention fixed on his wife.
She was blushing and looking mildly distressed. He frowned and listened to what was being said around him. The hall was abuzz with something to do with his horse and his wife. Had she tried to ride him? He thought the stallion had shown a great deal of tolerance for her thus far.
She looked up with shock on her porcelain features when he touched her shoulder to let her know he was there. “You have returned.”
“As you see.”
“Was your hunt successful?”
