Warrior's Moon

gray eyes filled with deeper and deeper levels of hurt, while her mouth trembled though she bit her bottom lip to hide it.

“Why do you believe that?” the Sinclair laird asked, apparently oblivious to Audrey’s distress or Vegar’s anger.

“That is a discussion better saved for another time,” Vegar responded with a look around the great hall.

So, not all the Sinclairs were aware of the Chrechte’s true natures any more than Shona had been when she’d lived among the MacLeod.

“Talorc!” Abigail said with exasperation.

She was not deaf to the distress of her fellow Englishwoman.

Shona wasn’t either, but nor did she understand it. Vegar was a stranger. While his low opinion of the English was not exactly pleasant for Audrey, or Thomas for that matter, to listen to, it could hardly be of great concern to them.

Or was Audrey worried Vegar’s attitude would prevent them from finding refuge among his clan? Shona could not believe the younger woman was convinced of that notion—not after she’d warned Audrey about that very thing before they ever made the journey.

Vegar looked down at Audrey, shaking his head with clear disappointment. “English.”

He didn’t say anything else, but apparently that was enough for Audrey.

Her eyes darkened to storm clouds and moisture pooled against the lower lids. “That is just too bloody perfect. I’ve lost the regard of my dearest friend in the world and my mate hates me because I was born in a country not his own.”

Shona didn’t know what was going on, but the distress in Audrey’s voice moved her as nothing else could.

Before she could reach out a comforting hand though, Audrey had jumped from her seat. “Do not worry yourself, Vegar of the Highland. I no more want a dirty savage for a mate than you want an Englishwoman.”

Audrey spun on her heel and rushed from the hall.

Shona had no idea what had happened, but she jumped to her own feet and glared at the newcomer. “Uncouth barbarian, how dare you upset my friend so?”

Vegar, who was looking after Audrey like a hunter deprived of his prey, jerked around to scowl down at Shona. “This does not concern you, English.”

“I believe you have forgotten that I am English,” Abigail said in chilling tones before Shona could open her mouth to respond.

Laird Sinclair inserted, “Used to be English.” But then he turned a truly frightening gaze on Vegar. “Insult my wife and you insult me.”

Vegar paled at that warning.

But then Caelis was standing behind Shona, his big body in a clearly protective stance. “Apologize.”

“For what?” Vegar demanded.

“Raising your voice to my mate,” Caelis replied in a deadly tone Shona did not like one little bit.

And then something struck Shona that she could not ignore. Everyone kept throwing that word around. Mate.

She knew what Caelis meant when he said it. He believed his wolf needed Shona’s presence for contentment.

Audrey had called Vegar mate. Did she mean the same thing?

And if she did, how could she have known it so quickly. And if she knew in the instant of meeting, how could Shona believe Caelis’s claim that he had not?

‘Twas all most confusing.

She turned to face Caelis and discovered she liked the threatening look on his handsome face even less than she’d liked his tone that promised violence and mayhem.

“Do not take this so to heart. I am not so weak I cannot survive a few harsh words. Besides, I don’t consider being called English an insult,” she said as much for Abigail’s benefit as because it was true.

She had learned in her six years living in the southern country that there were good and bad among the English, just like the Scots. Though this Vegar might well not realize it, that went for the Chrechte as well.

For all his faults, she would take her deceased husband as baron over Uven as laird.

“A woman with sense,” Abigail said loudly.

Caelis ignored the laird’s wife’s words, just as he’d ignored Shona’s. He was still too busy glowering at the other man. “Apologize,” he demanded again.

“She would stand between me and my mate.”

Caelis wasn’t moved in the least by the other man’s words. “If she does, than so will I.”

“You are my friend, our bonds forged this past year as we trained to be Cahir.”

“She is my true mate.”

“As that Englishwoman is mine.” There was slightly less disdain in his tone when he uttered the word English than there had been before.

But only slightly.

“You are Chrechte,” Shona said. There was no longer in any doubt about what this man and Audrey meant when they used that word, mate.

The man did not bother to reply.

Caelis growled.

“I am,” Vegar ground out between clenched teeth.

“And you believe on the strength of such a brief meeting that she is your mate.”

“She is mine. English or Lowlander, Audrey belongs to me.”

“Perhaps you should have come to that conclusion before insulting the sweet woman to the point of tears,” Abigail said scathingly.

“So you do remember her name,” Shona added, making no effort to hide her own disgust at Vegar’s reaction to meeting a woman he claimed to be his true mate.

And Shona was still uncertain what that meant in the face of Caelis’s explanations the night before. If the rest of her morning was what to go by, it was nothing good.

Thomas stood then, his expression both fascinated and worried. A strange combination, Shona thought, considering that his sister was the subject of this particular debate. “Shona, would you still trust your children in my care?”

“Of course,” she said before she thought about it and then frowned, but she would not take the words back.

Thomas and Audrey had not trusted Shona, had lacerated the small parts of her heart unwounded by life already with their lies, but did she trust him with her children? Yes.

She believed he would give his life to protect Eadan and Marjory, but that was something to contemplate on later.

“Do not change your mind now,” Thomas said, as if reading Shona’s thoughts. “Audrey and I have hurt you grievously. I only ask for the opportunity to explain.”

Talorc barked, “Not here,” showing he was not half as oblivious as he liked to pretend.

“Nay. And not now,” Thomas agreed.

The laird nodded his acceptance of the promise, for promise it was, said in a tone far more serious than Shona usually heard from the young man. Even during their flight from England.

“You have a point, I assume, in asking if I trusted you with Eadan and Marjory.”

Thomas nodded vigorously. “I did. Audrey needs you at present. Her mate has just rejected her.”

“I did not reject her,” Vegar growled.

“That’s certainly what it sounded like to me,” Abigail said with a frown for good measure.

Whatever favor she’d held the soldier in before, he’d certainly slipped in the Sinclair lady’s estimation with his behavior toward Audrey.

Vegar had gone from powerful, barbaric warrior to beleaguered man in the space of moments. His