Over the next few months, the pall left in Aymer’s wake gradually lifted. Though they had yet to receive any word from the men sent to find Drayton Mactavish. The search party could be in Inverness for all he knew.

Though he had told Mairghread of Archibald’s death, for days, he debated on whether or not he should tell her the entire truth. In the end, he decided against it. There was no sense in upsetting her, at least not yet.

Daily, he prayed the men he’d sent in search of the young man, would either return or at the very least, send word of where they were and what they had learned thus far. Of course, with the inclement winter weather, travel was much easier said that done.

They had even managed to celebrate Christmastide with good cheer and light hearts. January came and went, bringing with it long nights, blisteringly cold winds, and biting rain and snow. Still, they’d received no other word or threats from Aymer. That alone served to lift Mairghread’s spirits a great deal.

Though she was convinced Aymer had given up and mayhap had even gone back to France with Courtemanche, Brogan held an entirely different belief. He had known men like Courtemanche before. He was naught more than a spoilt child in a man’s body. A rapist and murderer to be certain. More a danger to young women and the weak. But if he were ever faced with a real battle of wits or muscle or strength, he would undoubtedly scurry off with his tail betwixt his legs.

But Aymer Mactavish? He was a cold, calculating, and dangerous man. Brogan was quite sure more than greed motivated him. He had looked into the man’s eyes and saw something that still made his blood run cold: sheer evil. An evil he was able to contain and hide to the outside world. But if one took a moment to look closer, to see what lay hidden behind those dark eyes, one would see the depths of that evil.

The last thing he wanted to do was to bring upset to his beautiful wife. She had experienced enough of that over the years. Nay, he refused to share his true worries with her. Instead, he did everything within his power to make her feel safe and protected.

At night, he would rest his hand on her belly and speak to their babe. Whether it be a son or daughter, he cared not. All he wanted was for this child to live a full and happy life. And there would be naught he wouldn’t do to make sure that was a reality and not just a fanciful dream.

As her belly grew, so did his adoration towards her. Fierce, determined, quick-witted, and uninhibited in their marital bed, was his Mairghread. Aye, he’d begun to think of her as his. Months ago, of course. But he had yet to tell her what was in his heart.

There were many times when the words were on the tip of his tongue, begging to be set free. However, he was as yet, uncertain how she felt about him. Oh, he knew she liked him well enough, and even admired him. But love? Nay, of that, he had serious doubts.

Months ago, he had told her to speak freely and openly of James and Connell. So she did. But as time wore on, he found himself growing quite jealous of the man. For James still owned her heart. Brogan might have been in possession of everything else, such as her trust, admiration, loyalty, and even her body. But her heart, he feared, would always belong to James.

* * *

The second crack in their false veneer of hope — the first being the murder of Archibald — arrived in late February, in the form of David II’s emissary. An aulder man, short of stature, but with a torso resembling a barrel of whisky. His name was Walter MacKinnon and Brogan hated him. Not for anything he had ever done to him personally, for he’d only just met the man.

Nay, he hated him for the havoc he wreaked upon his wife and their clan.

Brogan, Mairghread, and Reginald stood in the gathering room, in front of a blazing fire. Though it did very little to ease the cold ache in Brogan’s bones.

Aymer had kept his promise.

In his hands, Brogan held the missive from David. ’Twas addressed to Mairghread and Brogan.

Mairghread was enraged. “He still accuses me of murdering them?” Clenching her hands into fists, she did her best to keep from railing against the emissary.

Barely able to keep his own temper in check, Brogan handed the letter to Reginald before turning to face Walter. “Ye go back to David and tell him we can no’ possibly be there by the second day in May. Me wife is with child and I will do naught to endanger her safety or health, or that of our babe.”

“The bloody hell he will!” Mairghread protested. “I will go before David and tell him the truth.”

“Like hell ye will,” Brogan argued, his face growing darker and darker with each beat of his heart.

“I will no’ argue it, Brogan. I will go. I want this matter with Aymer settled once and for all. I will no’ live me life in fear of what the coward will do next.”

Reginald intervened on Brogan’s behalf. “M’lady, Aymer has already killed more than one member of this clan. We can no’ take a risk such as this.”

With her brow knitted in confusion, she asked, “What do ye mean he has already killed more than one member of this clan?”

Realizing his mistake, he looked to Brogan for help.

Brogan raked an angry hand through his hair. “This might be a conversation best saved for later,” he told her as he glanced at Walter.

Drawing her lips into a hard line, she glowered at Brogan.

“Ye go to David and tell him we will be there as he has requested,” she spoke to Walter, but did not take her eyes off Brogan.

“’Tis too dangerous, Mairghread. It will take weeks to get to Stirling,” he pointed out. The thought of her riding across the country in such harsh weather was enough to make him ill. But knowing Aymer could be lying in wait for an opportunity to bring her harm, was more than he could bear.

“Then we best leave at first light on the morrow.”

* * *

There was no amount of arguing or common sense to change Mairghread’s mind. They both knew it. However, it didn’t stop Brogan from trying.

They invited Walter to spend the night, which he accepted with much gratitude. He had been given a nice chamber, on the other side of the keep. Brogan did not want anything he needed to tell his wife from being misconstrued by over zealous ears.

After the evening meal, which was eaten mostly in silence, the retired to their chamber where Brogan began explaining his long held suspicions. He began with the easiest death; that of Archibald.

“Why did ye no’ come to me sooner with this?” she ground out.

“Ye had just learned ye were with child,” he told her. “I wanted no’ to bring even a moment of worry.”

“Good, lord! I be no’ a child, Brogan!” she spat, throwing her hands up in the air. “I be the chief of this clan. I need to ken these things.” She was beyond incensed.

“Ye be more than just the chief to me,” he replied in a low tone. Clenching and unclenching his jaw, he too, was angry, but for far different reasons. “Ye be me wife.”

“Aye, I be yer wife. Yer poor, weak wife who can no’ possibly understand the workin’s of the world. Nor can she survive a bit of bad news,” she quipped sarcastically.

“I do no’ think ye weak!” he barked.

“Then why do ye treat me as such?”

“Because I—” like a coward, he stopped before he could utter the words. He did not want them to be said in the heat of anger. “Because ye carry me child. Because I care. Because I want only to protect ye and keep ye safe.”

Some of her anger fell away. While she understood his need to protect her, she still thought he was doing far too much of it of late. “Brogan, if ye worry I will take up drinkin’ again,” she began before he cut her off.

“Of course no’,” he said. Feeling quite tired, and weary of arguing, he sat down in the chair by the fire and let out a deep breath. “I do no’ worry over that.”

“Then what be yer worry?”

Her question was met with silence, as he hung his head. To her, he looked like a lost soul. Then clarity dawned. “Ye be worried ye will lose me like ye did Anna?”

Without looking at her, he nodded his head. “Aye, that thought has crossed me mind once or twice of late.”

For a brief moment, she was quite tempted to tell him she loved him. But the words, for reasons she could not quite grasp, would not come.

“If I promise ye I will do me best no’ to do anything stupid, such as gettin’ meself killed, will ye promise to quit worryin’?”

“I fear that would be as likely as me sproutin’ wings and takin’ flight,” he murmured.

With a heavy sigh, she went to sit across from him. “Brogan, what else have ye no’ told me?”

Again, more silence.

“If I do no’ ken everythin’, I can no’ and will never be safe. I need to ken whom I can trust.”

* * *

Over the next hour, Brogan purged every secret or suspicion he’d been holding on to for months. All but one; his growing love for her.

’Twas easier to tell her he suspected ’twas Aymer who sliced Jame’s throat than it was to tell her what was in his heart. And easier still, to tell her he and Reginald both agreed that Aymer was responsible deaths of her entire family, save for her mother and Lachlan who had both died from illness.

He felt no better for telling her. He worried she’d be so upset and distraught she would fall ill. He should have known better.

Angrily, she paced about the room, her lips pursed, her eyes naught more than slits. “How could we have been so stupid?” she asked, rhetorically of course.

“’Tis hard for the heart to accept someone we love and care for could be so evil,” he told her.

“But Da? Me da was no’ an ignorant man,” she replied. “Certainly he must have suspected?”

“Like ye did?” he asked.

Never had she suspected Aymer of having anything to do with the deaths of her family. ’Twas not until Hargatha admitted to giving him the Devil’s Brew that she realized he was an evil, greedy man. But this? This newfound knowledge — even if they were naught more than suspicions — was beyond even her wildest imagination.

“I should have seen it,” she murmured angrily as she paced. “I should have seen it.” She felt ten kinds a fool. Ignorant, dumb, and brainless.

Brogan stood to his full height, resisting the urge to stretch. “Do no’ blame yerself, Mairghread. He be a cold, manipulative man.”

“But I should have seen it. It should not have taken an outsider to bring me clarity,” she seethed.

He hoped she did not mean it as it sounded. “Is that what ye think of me? An outsider?”

“Ye ken what I mean,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “I have known the man all me life and could no’ see what ye managed to in just a short while.”

“Did ye love yer uncle?” he asked.

“At one time, I suppose I did.”

“Sometimes, love can make ye blind to the truth. He be yer uncle. Why would ye suspect him of such things? An uncle is supposed to protect ye, love ye as if ye were his own. I ken, were I standin’ in where ye are now, I would never suspect an uncle to do what yers has done. ‘Twould be unfathomable.”

Though she knew he was right, it did little to lessen her anger or disgust.

“Brogan, I need ye to promise me, here and now, that ye’ll never keep such secrets from me again.” There was no denying her hurt or anger. He saw it in her eyes and the way in which she looked upon him.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, he agreed. “Please, understand I meant only to protect ye.”

“I ken that,” she replied. “But sometimes, ye can protect a person too much.”

She was right, of course. He went to her then and took her into his arms. “I promise, Mairghread.”

He could only pray she believed him.

* * *

At dawn, the following morning, Mairghread and Brogan left the keep, heading east, for Stirling Castle. Saying goodbye to Walter, who was going to travel south on other matters, they parted ways at the gate. They took twenty-five men with them, mostly his own well-trained warriors. If Aymer were any good at strategizing attacks, he would split his men into two well-armed groups. ‘Twould be easier to defend themselves against smaller numbers.

They still had received no word from the search party sent to look for Drayton. Brogan did not like going to meet the king without witnesses to help plead their cause. They discussed taking Hargatha, but Mairghread was certain she would end up killing the woman if she had to spend more than a few minutes alone with her. Twas for the auld woman’s own safety they left her behind. Instead, they had her write down a statement of facts that they could present to David. Hopefully, ‘twould be enough.

They travelled as fast as they could, considering Mairghread’s current condition. He refused to allow her to seat her own horse. Instead, she rode, sitting in front of him, wrapped in furs and blankets.

By mid morning the following day, they were riding through the gates of his brother’s keep. There had been no time to send word of their arrival, though he knew Ian would not mind.

They were ushered into the newly and finally completed keep. The gathering room was warm and thanks to Rose, ’twas also appealing and inviting.

Rose was sitting near the hearth, holding her newest bundle of joy when they walked in. Her eyes grew wide with surprise when she saw her brother-by-law and his wife.

“Och!” she cried as she struggled to get to her feet. Her immediate joy at seeing them here was quickly replaced by a look of genuine concern. “Why did ye no’ send word?”

Brogan steered his wife to the fire. “I be sorry, Rose,” he told her. “But it is a matter of most importance that I speak to Ian straight away.”

She paled visibly, clearly shaken by his tone. “Mairghread? What be the matter? Why are ye travelin’ in this weather?”

“I would prefer to explain it only once,” Brogan interjected on his wife’s behalf.

Rose studied him closely for a moment. Brogan stopped her before she could begin with her barrage of questioning. “Be it a boy or a girl?” he asked, nodding to the bundle in her arms.

Her worry evaporated instantly when she looked down at her babe. “Another son,” she told him. “We have named him Aiden.”

“That be a right good name,” Brogan smiled down at the sleeping babe.

“Congratulations are in order fer ye as well, aye?” she asked, turning to look at Mairghread. “Och! Ye look frozen to the bone!” she cried.

Mairghread managed a wan smile. “’Tis the truth, I am.”

Not wishing to wake her babe by yelling, she handed the sleeping infant off to Brogan. “I shall see to refreshments fer ye,” she said as she grabbed a blanket from the back of the chair she had been sitting in. Quickly, she draped it over Mairghread’s lap. “’Tis glad I am to see ye. How do ye fair?” She was, of course, referring to her babe. Worry etched into her brow.

“All be well in that regard,” Mairghread said.

Blowing out a breath of relief, Rose patted her shoulder. “I shall return shortly.”

No sooner had she left the room than Ian walked in. He wore a coat of fur — which Ian thought looked to be bear — and his head was covered in beaver.

“God’s teeth!” he declared as he stomped snow from his boots. “Have ye had yer babe already?” he asked, stunned to see his brother with a babe in his arms.

“Nay, ye eejit!” Brogan remarked with a grin. “This be yer babe.”

Shrugging off his coat, he hung it on a peg by the door. “I thought that was a bit fast,” he said. “But then, ye be a Mackintosh. Who kens what wench ye—” he stopped as soon as he saw Mairghread sitting by the fire. His face burned crimson. “Why did ye no’ tell us ye were comin’? And with yer wife?”

Stepping forward, he gave Brogan’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before taking his son from him. “I do no’ suppose ye just be visitin’,” he whispered.

“Nay, ’tis no’ a social call,” Brogan answered.

Ian grunted his disproval. “Well, tell me what be the matter.”

“If I tell ye before Rose gets back, she will skin me alive.”

“Ye be right,” Rose called to him as she reentered the room. “We will have somethin’ warm fer ye to eat verra soon.”

“Thank ye kindly, Rose,” he replied.

“Well?” Ian asked. “What trouble have ye gotten yerself into?”

* * *

After settling Rose into the chair and returning her son to her, Brogan and Mairghread began to explain why they were here. They began with the summons from David.

“Jesu,” Ian whispered in disbelief. “Certainly David can no’ believe the man.”

Brogan shrugged. “Who kens what lies Aymer has told him.”

“I put nothin’ past the man,” Mairghread added. “He is pure evil.”

Servants appeared, bearing bowls of rabbit stew, breads, cheeses, and other foods. Brogan brought his wife a bowl of stew and bread. “Eat,” he said with a wink.

Too tired to argue, as well as far too hungry, she accepted the bowl and bread graciously.

Once the servants left, Brogan began to relate all that he knew or suspected as it pertained to Aymer. He left nothing out nor did he hold back any pertinent information. Standing beside his wife, with his hand on her shoulder, he told them everything.

Occasionally, Rose would gasp, pressing her fingers to her lips in horror or surprise. Ian kept his own thoughts hidden behind a stoic and calm facade.

Once he finished, he looked to Ian.

“How many men do ye need?” Ian asked.

“How many can ye spare? I worry over only two things,” Brogan told him. “That Aymer will try to attack the keep in our absence, or, attack us on our way to Stirling.”

Ian nodded thoughtfully before asking, “How many did ye leave at yer keep?”

“We have, mayhap, one hundred men,” Brogan answered.

“And no’ a one of them trained fer battle,” Mairghread offered honestly.

Ian looked to Brogan for agreement on her assessment. “Aye, she be right.”

Walking to stand behind his wife, Ian said, “I can send thirty good men to yer keep, on the off chance he does attack in yer absence. I would go with ye meself to Stirling, but I worry about leavin’ Rose here alone, with two babes.”

Rose lifted a pretty brow and craned her neck to look up at him. “Yer brother needs ye more than we do,” she told him. “We can send word to Alec, askin’ fer reinforcements here.”

Ian scoffed at the idea. “Alec leave his wife and babes? No’ verra likely.”

Brogan nodded in agreement. “Nay, from what Dougall told us when he visited in October, Alec Bowie will no’ be leavin’ Leona or their babes any time soon.”

“Either way, he could send help to yer keep,” Rose countered. She looked down at the sleeping babe. “Besides, I have John and Aiden to look after me.”

In the end, Rose won out. Ian was going to Sterling Castle with his brother.

* * *

With Mairghread’s growing belly, it took them a little more than three weeks to reach Stirling Castle. Frequent stops were necessary, more for Brogan’s peace of mind than her’s.

With Ian, his men, and their own, more than fifty riders passed through the gates late one spring morning in late April. Mairghread, weary and with a growing belly, had never been more glad to be off a horse.

Brogan presented the castle guards with the missive from David. They had to wait for over an hour before he, Mairghread, Ian, and five guards were allowed inside. The rest of their group made camp near the outer walls.

One of David’s men was sent to escort them to temporary quarters within. He was a tall and slender with short-cropped dark hair and intense blue eyes. With him were four of David’s guards, one just as menacing in countenance as the other.

“I am Donald,” he said by way of introduction. “Follow me.”

Brogan and Mairghread and their entourage fell in behind him, while his guards brought up the rear. He did not speak again as he led them down the long, winding corridors. They paid no attention to the opulence, to tapestries or furniture. Mairghread’s only concern was getting this over with as soon as possible.

Stopping in front of a door, he said, “This will be yer chamber,” he said to Brogan. “The rest of ye will be in the next room.”

“When do we meet with David?” Mairghread asked.

“On the morrow,” he replied. “He is no’ seeing anyone this day.”

“And what of Aymer Mactavish?” Brogan asked through gritted teeth. “Where might he be?”

Opening the door, the man waited for them to enter. Brogan wasn’t going anywhere until he had an answer.

“I believe he is in chambers closer to David’s,” he replied drolly. “We will be posting two men outside each of your rooms.”

Neither Ian or Brogan liked that idea. “You’re puttin’ us under guard?” Ian asked.

“I am only following orders,” Donald replied. “If there is aught ye need, tell one of the men and they will see that ye have it.” He didn’t wait for more questions. With a slight inclination of his head, he hurried down the corridor.

They glared at the guards for a long moment before Mairghread let loose with a heavy sigh. “I am weary,” she said, pushing open the door.

Giving up, Brogan, Ian, and their men followed her inside.

* * *

“Yer wife looks exhausted,” Ian pointed out. “And so do ye.”

Mairghread spotted the bed and went to it immediately and sat on the edge. “So what do we do now?” she asked.

Brogan grunted. “Ye will rest.”

“And what will ye be doin’?” she asked with a tone of suspicion.

He cast a glance at Ian before answering. “Restin’ with ye.”

Satisfied with his answer, she said, “Good. I think we all need a bit of rest. Later, we can meet here to discuss our plan of action for the morrow.”

“Ye need no’ worry over it,” he told her.

She glowered at him. “Need I remind ye that I was also summoned before the king?”

While he admired his wife’s determination, he was still worried over her health and well-being. Dark circles lined her eyes, her skin pale, and her voice sounded weaker than was typical for her.

“We will be across the hall, should ye need us,” Ian said with a smile. A moment later, he and the rest of their men were quitting the room.

Alone for the first time in weeks, she breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly, she got to her feet and stretched. “I can no’ ever remember bein’ this tired,” she told him with a yawn. “Will ye rest a bit with me?”

Untying her laces, she stepped out of her dress and laid it across the back of a chair. Standing near the fire, in her white chemise, Brogan swallowed hard. Even heavy with child, she was still magnificent to look upon. Rubbing her hands together, she shivered. “Even with this fire, I still be cold.”

He had a feeling it had more to do with her worry over what would happen on the morrow than the chill in the air. He went to her then, and wrapped his arms around her. “Mayhap, we should get ye under the blankets.”

“I hope yer recommendation will include ye under those blankets with me,” she said, leaning her head against his chest.

“I might be able to be persuaded,” he said with a chuckle. “I could use some rest as well.”

* * *

Content after their loving, Mairghread was nestled in the crook of his arm. The embers in the hearth crackled and hissed as rain and wind crashed against the walls of the castle. She was glad for the safety she found lying next to Brogan.

Though she was exhausted, she found she could not sleep. Worry over what would happen on the morrow filled her with dread.

“We have no’ discussed what we would do if David sets aside our marriage,” she murmured.

“He will no’,” Brogan told her with a yawn.

“But what if he does?”

He scratched his stubbled jaw. “David will no’ set our marriage aside,” he said. “Ye be worried for naught.”

Lifting herself up on one elbow, she studied him closely. Although she was grateful for his strength she was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t too self-assured. “How can ye be so certain?”

“Because, I ken David. He will no’ side with Aymer.”

Frustrated, she let out a heavy sigh. “Because ye ken him?” Her tone was filled with disbelief. “Just because ye ken a man does no’ mean he will do what is right or just.”

He let out his own frustrated breath and sat up. “David will favor his allies and friends, Mairghread, as I have told ye in the past. Aymer did no’ show him any alliance whilst he was with the English. The Mackintoshes did. That alone works in our favor.”

“But—”

He would not allow her protests to continue. “And I might also remind ye, that we have the truth on our side. David will see Aymer’s accusations for what they be: naught more than lies told by a greedy and self-servin’ man.”

As much as she wanted to put all of her faith in him, she had too many doubts and concerns. Slipping from the bed, she wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and went to stand by the fire. “I want to believe ye,” she said. “With all me heart I do. But we must think of our babe. If Aymer wins, I will no’ go back to France with Courtemanche. I need to ken ye would fight to keep that from happening.”

He was insulted that she thought he wouldn’t. Angrily, he shot out of the bed, not bothering to cover his body with anything. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around. “Think ye I would no’ fight fer ye? Fer our babe?” he asked incredulously. “All I have done since we married was fight fer ye. I fought fer yer sobriety. I fought to build the wall, to have new weapons forged. I fought foul weather and mountains to bring ye here because that is what ye wanted!”

Tears welled in her eyes for she knew she had wounded him. “I ken ye have done all of that!” she cried. “But this is different. This is the king we speak of. If he sets our marriage aside, what then? Will ye fight him? ’Twould be treason.”

“I would fight Satan and demons and dragons to keep ye safe. And aye, I would fight David as well. I do no’ ken why ye doubt me.”

There was no sound reason for doubting him, she knew it, in her heart. The tears fell without restraint. “I do no’ doubt ye, but I be terrified of what will happen on the morrow. ‘Twould be stupid no’ to be afraid. I do no’ ken David as ye say ye do.”

“But ye ken me,” he countered angrily.

“I worry over our babe, Brogan. I can no’ stand the thought of losin’ another bairn.” The tears fell then, unrestrained and unchecked. That had been her biggest worry of late, that Aymer would make an attempt on her babe’s life. And now, she worried she would be forced to set aside her marriage to Brogan and go to France with Courtemanche.

“I will no’ allow anythin’ to happen to ye or to our babe, Mairghread,” he said, his tone softening with each tear of hers that fell. He took her hands in his and placed them over his heart. “As long as I still breathe, as long as me heart still beats, I will protect both of ye.”

Mayhap ’twas the babe making her addlebrained, or the fact that they were here in Stirling and their entire future resting in the hands of a man she’d never met. No matter the cause, she still worried. “I ken that,” she said.

“But still ye worry?” he asked with a raised brow.

“I can no’ help it!” she cried.

He smiled then, and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. Pulling her into his arms, he held her tightly. “No matter what happens on the morrow, Mairghread, naught betwixt us will ever change. If we have to steal away to far away lands to be together, we will.”

She giggled half-heartedly. “Right now, far away lands does no’ sound so bad.”

Patting her back gently, he pressed another kiss to the top of her head. “I will do whatever I must to see that we are together for all the rest of our days.”

Wiping her tears on her shoulder, she said, “I do no’ ken why ye be so kind to me all of the time.” There were times she felt quite unworthy of his kindness.

He pushed her away enough so that he could look into her eyes. “Ye do no’?”

“Nay, I do no’,” she answered. From the start, he’d been nothing but kind, even when she didn’t deserve it.

“Because I love ye.”

* * *

The words he’d been longing to say were finally released. He held his breath whilst he gauged her response. Dumbfounded, she looked up and into his eyes, silent, for what seemed like an eternity.

“How?” she finally muttered. “How can ye love me after all I have put ye through?”

’Twas not the reply he had hoped for. Deflated, he let go of her arms. “If ye be referrin’ to what ye went through whilst still addicted to drink, or when ye were goin’ through the take aways, that be all in the past. I do no’ love the woman I married, I love the woman she has become.”

She began to weep again, for new reasons. “Brogan, I—”

He held up his hand to stop her. “I ken ye do no’ love me, Mairghread. I ken ye still love James. Still, I needed to give ye the words. No’ to make ye feel better, but because holdin’ them in these many months has been akin to carryin’ a boulder on me back. ’Tis enough knowin’ ye care about me. I will no’ ask ye fer more.”

She waited silently, with her shoulders back and her chin up. “Are ye quite finished?”

Furrowing his brow, he nodded.

“I did no’ think it would ever be possible to love another man after James. I still love him, ’tis true and I will no’ deny it.”

Hanging his head, he turned his back to her. He didn’t think he was strong enough to look her in the eye while she said what he was quite certain she was going to say; she didn’t love him and doubted she ever could.

“There were many things I never thought possible until ye came into me life. I did no’ think it possible to live again. To enjoy feelin’ the sunshine on me face, or to laugh without guilt. Or to look forward to seeing the sunrise in the morn. All those things were lost to me, Brogan.”

He heard the quiver in her voice. So he had helped her to live again. What did it matter if she could not love again? He knew he should not be upset or hurt, yet he was.

“I swear if ye do no’ turn around to look at me, I will stab ye with yer own sword!” she exclaimed breathlessly.

Taking in a deep breath, he turned to face her. Tears streamed from her tired, red-rimmed eyes. He felt guilty for making her cry. “Mairghread, do no’ fash yerself. I am a-”

“I love ye, Brogan Mackintosh!” she blurted out. “I have fer a long while but was afraid to tell ye fer fear ye could no’ love me back.” Rushing forward, she threw herself into his arms.

His heart swelled with adoration and joy. They had both been afraid of the very same thing; unrequited love.

“Wheest, love,” he told her as he rubbed his hands up and down her back, hoping to smooth away her distress.

“I do no’ ken why I keep cryin’,” she admitted woefully.

Chuckling softly, he hugged her tighter. “’Tis all right, love. Ye can cry as much as ye want to.”

She loved him and that was all that mattered.

* * *

Brogan had awakened long before dawn with Mairghread nestled in the crook of his arm. He was enjoying the sound of her steady breaths, the way she smelled of lavender soap and all the loving they had done the night before.

With the knowledge that she did in fact love him, he had awakened with a new-found resolve. No matter what happened this day, he was even more determined to keep her safe and out of the clutches of her greedy uncle.

Although his father, John, had been a long time friend and ally of David, who knew what Aymer was up to. David was not above reproach, if the recent murmurings of his friendship with England were any indication. Rumor had it, it was growing more and more difficult to pay the ransom payments to England. A man in his position might be swayed if the bag of gold was big enough.

And Claude Courtemanche, being the son of a wealthy French nobleman, had enough gold to pursue just about anyone.

Silently, Brogan prayed David would be just and fair. Justice and doing what was right had to mean something, even to their king.

His quiet musings were disturbed when he saw a shadow enter the bedchamber. Carefully, so as not to disturb his wife or let the intruder know he was aware of his presence, he reached for the dirk he kept under his pillow. The shadow moved quickly, yet silently.

When he stepped in front of the fire, Brogan let out the breath he’d been holding. ’Twas his brother Ian.

Whispering, Ian said, “I have good news fer ye brother.”

Brogan slid from the bed, covered his wife, and stepped away so they might talk without waking her.

“What is it?”

“Ye have a visitor.”

* * *

After three weeks of travelling through mountains, over hills, and through glens and valleys — in mostly rotten weather — the day Mairghread had been looking forward to, had finally arrived: They were meeting with King David II.

After a good night’s rest, and a hot meal, she now stood in a room so big and grand, she thought she could have fit her entire keep within it. For the occasion, she chose a dark green gown of wool, with matching slippers. Over that, she wore the Mactavish plaid and Mackintosh brooch. After braiding her hair, she donned a gossamer veil with a plain silver circlet. All in all, she felt she was at least presentable to the king. Brogan remarked he thought she looked like a goddess.

’Twas a bleak and dreary morning, but she’d not allow the weather to dampen her spirits. Though her insides were shaking, she drew strength from her husband. He stood on her left, while Ian stood on her right.

Straight ahead was the throne on which their king would sit. ’Twas not made of gold as she had imagined as a child, but was made of hard wood, with an ornately carved back. Standing near it was the object of her consternation and the upheaval of her world; Aymer Mactavish.

Dressed in dark blue trews and an opulent silk tunic — from money he no doubt stole from her coffers. The burgundy overcoat looked to have been made from silk with gold stitching. It might have looked better on a king or nobleman, than Aymer. She found his air of righteousness appalling and immediately looked away. Though she could feel him staring at her, even after she turned away.

They waited for what seemed and eternity, before someone announced David’s arrival. He entered from a small door near the hearth. Mairghread held her breath as she clung to Brogan’s hand. “Wheest,” he whispered. “He be just a man.”

Mairghread prayed David hadn’t heard him, for he might beg to argue.

The king took his seat as he looked out at the crowd. He was not at all what Mairghread had expected him to be. Light brown hair framed his long, bearded face. She thought his nose rather hawkish, being extraordinarily long, with a little hook at the end of it. He looked bored, as if he’d rather be anywhere else but here. She sent a silent prayer upward, asking for strength for herself and a kind ear on David’s part.

When he spoke, his deep voice all but echoed off the walls. “Read the charges,” he said with a wave of his hand.

An older man, of mayhap fifty, with salt and pepper hair and bowed legs, stepped forward. In his hands he held the parchment listing Aymer’s false accusations. He cleared his throat before he began to speak. “The charges against Brogan Mackintosh are as follows: Interference with family matters, marrying one Mairghread Mactavish illegally and without permission from her uncle and guardian, Aymer Mactavish. Thievery of coin and resources belonging to Clan Mactavish. Abuse of Mairghread Mactavish. Abuse of the members of the aforementioned clan, by forcing its people to work from dawn to dusk, in all manner of inclement weather, without proper sustenance or recompense. Disregard of rules set in place by Aymer — the rightful heir and chief of clan Mactavish — during his absence.”

The man paused long enough to take a deep breath and glance out at the crowd.

“The charges against Mairghread Mactavish are as follows: Disobedience, excessive consumption of alcoholic beverages which thereby left her unable to make sound decisions. She is also accused of the murder of her first husband, James, and their three week-old son, Connell, on the third day of April, in the year of our lord thirteen hundred fifty-four where she willfully, whilst in a drunken rage, hacked to death her infant son before turning her knife to her husband and slicing his throat.”

A collective gasp could be heard all around her, which soon turned to loud murmurs. Knowing she was innocent of these charges helped strengthen her resolve albeit only slightly. Had Brogan not been holding on to her, she might have fallen to her knees.

“Quiet,” David ordered in a quiet voice. The room hushed almost instantly. He still looked bored, as his elbow was rested on one arm of his chair, his index finger pressed against his cheek.

Clearing his throat once again, the man continued to read. “Her abuse of alcohol has rendered her incapacitated on countless occasions, rendering her unable to make sound choices. That she did willfully and with disobedience, marry Brogan Mackintosh without her uncle’s approval or knowledge.”

He rolled the parchment up and went to stand a few steps away from David.

David sat up, looked directly at Brogan and Mairghread and motioned them forward.

Protectively, he led her forward. With one hand on her back and holding her hand, he helped her to curtsey, then he knelt before his king.

“Rise,” David said.

’Twas difficult for her to get up and down, what with her large belly, but she managed to do so with grace and aplomb.

“Brogan Mackintosh, what say ye to these charges?”

Without blinking an eye, he replied, “’Tis horse shite, yer grace.”

Mairghread felt the blood rush from her face as she gasped at her husband’s reply. The crowd laughed and the king chuckled. In wide-eyed astonishment, she looked at her husband. Her expression said she thought him mad for speaking to the king in such a manner.

“Ye be John Mackintosh’s son, all right.”

Brogan smiled. “Aye, I am. He sends his regards, yer grace. He wanted to be here, but the Cameron’s have been raidin’ the borders of late.”

“Still feudin’ with the Camerons?” he asked with a raised brow. “I will deal with that later. Fer now, we have some serious accusations ye need to answer to.”

’Twas then he looked at Mairghread. “Ye be the woman I have heard so much about of late?”

Stunned, she managed an awkward nod and stammered, “I be Mairghread Mactavish, wife of Brogan Mackintosh.” She took in a deep breath before going on. “And the rightful heir and chief of Clan Mactavish, yer grace.”

His bushy eyebrows perked up. “Ye be the chief of Clan Mactavish?”

“Aye, yer grace.”

Aymer stepped forward then, with a shake of his head, looking on her with pity-filled eyes. “’Tis just as I told ye, yer grace. She is often given to delusions of grandeur.”

Brogan’s jaw ticked, his eyes turning to slits. “She speaks the truth and ye well ken it.”

Keeping his eyes focused solely on David, Aymer said, “As I have told ye, yer grace, she drinks too much and now believes she be the chief. ’Tis sad, ’tis truly sad.” He gave a slow shake of his head for added emphasis.

“I warned ye once no’ to speak ill of me wife,” Brogan told him. “I will no’ remind ye again.”

As if he were surprised, Aymer stood taller, and pulled his shoulders back. “Ye mean when ye threatened to kill me with yer bare hands?”

“Nay,” Brogan replied cooly. “When I promised I would kill ye with me own two hands.”

Aymer threw his hands up in feigned frustration and turned back to David. “He admits to threatening me life, yer grace. How is a man to protect his only flesh and blood?”

“Protect her?” Brogan asked through gritted teeth. “Is that what ye call it? Tearin’ down the outer wall? Hiding weapons? Givin’ her husband a poison that would make him lose his grip on reality? By tryin’ to force her into marrying one of the most cruel and sadistic men ever to grace God’s earth? Is that how ye protect yer only flesh and blood?”

For the first time since meeting the man, Brogan saw him flinch. ’Twas brief and barely perceptible, but ’twas a flinch all the same. “He is just as mad as me niece, yer grace,” Aymer said with a sneer.

“Poison?” David asked as he leaned forward in his chair. “What is this poison ye speak of?”

Aymer scoffed openly. “’Tis naught but a lie, yer grace.”

“Like hell it is.”

That comment came from Mairghread. All eyes turned to her then. Aymer was furious and Brogan looked quite proud. But her king? He seemed to be amused by her outburst, for he was grinning.

“Tell me, Mairghread, about this poison,” David requested, his grin fading as he took on a more serious stance.

“Yer, grace, ’tis naught but a fantasy made up by—”

“I do no’ believe I was speakin’ to ye, Aymer,” David said, glowering at him for a long moment before turning back to Mairghread. “Continue.”

Clearing the growing knot from her throat, she stood a bit taller. “Aymer gave me husband, James, a tisane called Devil’s Brew,” she began.

David sat up with a jolt. “Devil’s Brew?” he asked, looking appalled. “That stuff can kill a man.”

“Or make that man behave in an insane manner for hours and hours,” she added.

David glanced angrily at Aymer before turning back to Mairghread. “And ye say yer uncle gave that concoction to James?”

“Aye, m’laird, he did. And I have witnesses to prove it.” She looked right at Aymer when she spoke.

“A crazy auld woman?” Aymer’s tone was challenging.

“Among others,” she said before turning back to David. “Me uncle had me all but convinced that it had been I who killed me babe and husband and that I was so overcome with guilt that I tried to kill meself. I could no’ remember all that happened that day, yer grace, until recently. Now, I ken the truth.”

Intrigued and beyond curious, David leaned forward in his chair, hanging on to her every word. “What is the truth?”

“I loved me husband and son, yer grace. More than anything or anyone else in this world. They were me entire life. I did no’ kill them and I certainly did no’ stab me ownself.”

“Then who killed them?”

“James and Aymer.”

* * *

A collective gasp came from the crowd behind them. The onlookers were just as surprised at her story as David was.

“James and Aymer?” he asked with a good measure of stunned disbelief.

Aymer began to protest her accusations, but David put a stop to it immediately. “One more outburst from ye and ye will find yerself in the dungeon.”

Brogan watched as the blood rushed from Aymer’s face.

Mairghread took a deep steadying breath and nodded. “Aye, yer grace. Because James was in a fit of rage from unknowingly drinkin’ the Devil’s Brew that was meant for me, he killed our son. Then he turned the knife on me.”

“Wait,” David said. “Are ye sayin’ the brew was meant fer ye?”

“Aye, yer grace, it was.”

His bushy brows furrowed. “Then who killed James?”

It seemed everyone in the room was holding their breaths.

“Aymer. Aymer sliced James’ throat.”

Another stunned gasp and murmurs flittered from the crowd. Drawing strength from Brogan, as well as the fact that David seemed keenly interested in her tale, she went on. “Aymer was about to kill me when Gertie and Tilda came into the room. They be me maids, yer grace. They had heard me scream something fierce and came to see what was the matter.” Most of what she had just told him was the truth. Only part of it was conjecture. She could not remember seeing Aymer slice James’s throat, but ’twas the only thing that made sense. If Aymer could accuse her unjustly, then she ought to be able to do the same.

Her blood ran cold when she saw the flash of fear and surprise in Aymer’s eyes. In that instant, she knew she had not been wrong.

David’s lips drew into a thin, hard line as he looked at Aymer. The entire room fell silent. “What say ye, Aymer?”

“’Tis a lie,” he stammered angrily. “She killed them, then turned the knife on herself. And now she wishes to blame me so that she might take over as chief.”

“But I am the chief,” she argued. “According to our laws, our traditions, and me father’s will. Which, yer grace, Aymer has refused to produce to anyone.”

“Where be this will?” he asked, pinning Aymer in place with a hard glare.

“’Twas destroyed,” Aymer said indignantly.

David did not look convinced. “How inconvenient for all concerned.”

Aymer swallowed hard, his eyes darting from David to Mairghread, and back again. “She is tryin’ to place the blame for her own bad behavior on me, yer grace. It still does no’ change the fact that she is a drunkard and a bigamist.”

* * *

It took every ounce of self-control to keep his temper in check. Clenching his jaw, drawing his hands into fists, Brogan was furious. “How can a widow be a bigamist?” he ground out. From David’s confused expression, ’twas the first time he was hearing this accusation as well.

Aymer, feeling as though he once again had the upper hand, gave him a furtive glance before turning back to David. “I be no’ speakin’ about James. I speak of another.”

“That is a lie!” Mairghread exclaimed. For a fleeting moment, she thought mayhap, he was telling the truth. There were many things she had done whilst drunk that she could not recall later. Had she unknowingly married the Frenchman? Dread settled into the pit of her stomach.

Speaking over the growing din, Aymer said, “She was married by proxy, to Claude Courtemanche.”

The room erupted then into stunned surprise and even outrage. Ian had to physically restrain Brogan, to keep him from killing Aymer with his bare hands. Mairghread stood on shaking legs as her worry piled on top of dread.

“Ye married yer own niece off to him?” David asked in wide-eyed disbelief.

“By proxy, yer grace,” Aymer said, as he tried to hide a smile.

“That be a bloody lie!” Brogan shouted.

David had to call for quiet three times before everyone finally settled down. He’d turned red with anger and frustration. “One more outburst and I will have ye all removed,” he called out to the crowd of onlookers.

Once the room quieted, he looked upon Aymer with a stern countenance before taking his seat again. “When did this marriage by proxy take place?” he asked.

“More than a year ago,” he replied drolly.

David turned to gauge Mairghread’s reaction, but was speaking to Aymer. “And when did ye let yer niece know of this marriage by proxy?”

“The very day it happened, yer grace. But she might no’ remember, fer she was verra drunk.”

Mairghread stepped forward to face her uncle. “Ye lie,” she told him.

“Nay, lass, I do no’ lie.”

“So ye told me? Only once?” she said, challenging his accusation. “When did this supposedly take place? And where be this proxy now? Was it too, destroyed, along with me father’s will?”

“After Claude visited our keep nearly two years ago,” Aymer told her.

Tired of being held back and quiet, Brogan shook himself from Ian’s grip. “Ye had more than one occasion in that time to tell Mairghread what ye did,” he said through gritted teeth. “But ye claim ye only told her once, whilst she was too drunk to remember?” He looked to David then. “Yer grace, ye can no’ believe such lies.”

David was growing angrier with each passing moment. “Do no’ tell me what I can or can no’ believe,” he said.

For the first time, Brogan was worried. Worried that Aymer had paid David off, and that no matter what evidence they laid before him, he was going to side with Aymer. A shiver of fear tickled the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end.

“Again, I ask to see the proxy,” Mairghread demanded.

Aymer smiled, as if he’d just won a great battle. “Claude has it,” he said.

The crowd parted as Claude Courtemanche made his way from the back of the room to stand before the King of Scotland.

* * *

Terror all but seized her heart. Brogan, seeing the fear in her eyes, pulled her behind him and took a protective stance. He’d kill Courtemanche and Aymer before he let either one of them lay so much as a finger on her.

Bowing with a flourish, Courtemanche smiled. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you, your grace.”

David was not impressed. “Ye have the proxy?” he asked, refusing to return the man’s smile.

“I do,” he replied as he pulled a small scroll from his purple jacket. Bowing again, he handed the scroll to the man who had read the charges.

He read it before handing it off to David. Reading it thoroughly, he looked up only once, before handing it back to his man.

Peering around Brogan to look at Mairghread, he said, “And ye claim ye were unaware of this marriage?”

“I knew nothin’ of it, yer grace, I swear it,” she replied nervously.

“Again, she was too drunk to remember,” Aymer said.

Consternation was etched in David’s face. “And ye only thought to tell her once?” he asked. “Ye claim she drank heavily, why would ye no’ tell her again?”

Sneering at Mairghread, he replied, “’Tis difficult to find her in a sober moment.”

“She has no’ had so much as a drop of strong drink in more than six months,” Brogan countered. “And why did ye no’ mention this when ye last visited the keep last Samhain?”

“I was so surprised to learn she had married ye, that it must have slipped me mind,” Aymer replied, sounding bored with Brogan’s questions.

Brogan raised a dubious brow. “Be it yer contention that ye did no’ ken of our marriage until last Samhain?”

“Of course I did no’ ken about it until last Samhain,” Aymer responded angrily. “I did no’ ken about it until I returned with Claude.”

Brogan smiled at him, then to David. “He be lyin’, and I can prove it.”

* * *

Ian left at Brogan’s barely perceptible nod. Brogan turned his attention back to David and Aymer. “Yer grace, I tell ye the proxy presented to ye this day is false. I also tell ye that Aymer has lied to ye when he says he had no knowledge of me marriage to Mairghread until he returned to our keep last Samhain, and I can prove it.”

Aymer laughed at Brogan’s declaration. “Prove it? How?”

“Do ye remember the messengers Mairghread sent to ye, the day after we wed?”

Still believing he was going to win this day, Aymer offered a shrug of indifference. “I remember no such messengers.”

Lifting a brow, Brogan said, “Archibald and Drayton? Ye do no’ remember them?”

“Archibald? Be he the lad who hanged himself?” Aymer replied, still feeling quite in charge. “And Drayton, did ye no’ die recently during a drunken brawl in Inverness?”

“Archibald did die, but no’ by his own hand,” he said before turning his attention back to David. “The day after Mairghread and I were wed, she sent two messengers to find Aymer and to tell him of our marriage. Aymer, ye see, was on his way to France, to collect Claude Courtemanche. With him, were a dozen Mactavish men, as well as the dowry. They were to be married upon their return to the Mactavish keep. No’ once did he ever mention a marriage by proxy. No’ even to the messengers.”

David’s patience was growing thin. “Get to yer point, Mackintosh.”

“Less than a week after he visited our keep, Archibald Mactavish was found hangin’ in our armory. ’Twas meant to look like a suicide. Supposedly, he hanged himself. But there was somethin’ missin’: A chair or a stool with which to lift himself off the floor. The lad was far too short to wrap the belt around his neck twice, then somehow manage to get it across the beam, lift himself several inches off the floor, and tie the belt around the beam twice, without the aid of chair, stool, or ladder. Unless, of course, he knew how to fly.”

Light laughter broke out amongst the crowd. They were silenced immediately by a scowl from David.

A quick glance at Aymer proved his theory. He had paled visibly.

“As fer Drayton Mactavish, he be no’ dead, yer grace.”

“That be impossible!” Aymer shouted. “The lad died naught more than three weeks ago, in a drunken brawl!”

Cocking his head to one side, Brogan asked, “And how did ye come to this knowledge afore anyone else?”

Aymer looked fit to be tied, his face purple with rage. “Since I be the chief of clan Mactavish, it behooves me to ken such things.”

“Afore anyone else kens it?” Brogan asked again. “And how did ye come by this information?”

Gritting his teeth, Aymer said, “I still have ties to the clan, Mackintosh.”

“Ties or spies?” he asked with a sneer of his own.

The crowd parted for a second time, as Ian, three of their guards, and one very afraid looking young lad, made their way through. Brogan watched as Aymer’s eyes grew wide with astonishment.

“Yer grace, this be Drayton Mactavish of clan Mactavish,” Brogan said.

The young man looked positively terrified as he bowed before his king.

David ordered him to rise, and studied him closely for a long moment. “Aymer, be this the young man ye claimed was dead?”

Swallowing hard, he could only nod his head as he stared at the young man in question.

Brogan looked at David. “If I may, yer grace, have the lad tell ye about the day he and Archibald met with Aymer Mactavish.”

“Ye may,” David replied.

“Drayton, please tell yer king about yer mission to find Aymer last summer,” Brogan said.

The lad’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down before he could find the words to speak. “Well, our lady, lady Mairghread, she asked Archibald to go in search of her uncle. Archibald asked me to go with him, fer God only kent how long it would take, ye ken.”

“And did ye find Aymer?” Brogan asked.

“Aye, m’laird, we did. Just outside of London. Aymer and them had made camp, ye ken. Though we was both right scared about tellin’ him and givin’ him our lady’s letter.”

“That is a lie!” Aymer cried out. “I never met with this boy or the one named Archibald.”

“Ye had yer chance, Aymer,” David told him. “I want to hear what this lad has to say.”

A light sheen of sweat broke out on Drayton’s forehead and upper lip. Brogan imagined the poor young man was terrified of being dragged before the king. “Please, tell us what happened when ye met with Aymer.”

“Like I says, we found them encamped just outside London. I was already as nervous as a sinner in church, because we was in England. I had never been so far from home before, yer grace.”

“How did ye find England?” David asked with a playful twinkle in his eye.

Confused, the lad said, “Well, we just rode south, yer grace, until the people started talkin’ funny.”

David found the boy’s confusion and honesty refreshing and laughed heartily at his reply. Everyone in the room, save for Aymer and Courtemanche, laughed.

Not understanding why they found it all so humorous, the boy looked up to Brogan. Brogan offered him a comforting smile. “And ye were able to meet with Aymer?” he asked, prodding the lad to continue.

“Aye, we did, m’laird,” he said with a rapid nod of his head. Turning to David, he said, “So Archibald gave Aymer our lady’s letter and message. Told him, he did, that she had married Brogan Mackintosh.”

“And what did Aymer say or do?”

“He was right angry, he was. Punched Archibald in the face twice, before turnin’ his anger on me. Cracked one of me ribs, he did.” Absentmindedly, he rubbed his left rib with his fingertips, as if he could still feel the pain.

“Did Aymer say or do anything after that?” Brogan asked.

“Well, after screamin’ that our lady was ungrateful, and callin’ her names I will no’ repeat in front of her, he wrote a letter back to her. I never saw him that angry, and we had seen him angry plenty of times. All the while he was writin’, he kept sayin’ she had ruined everythin’, meanin’ our lady. That he did no’ ken how he would explain it to the Frenchman.”

Brogan was pleased that thus far, Drayton’s story matched everything that Archibald had recounted last fall.

“And did anythin’ else happen?” Brogan asked, growing more and more pleased by the moment.

Drayton went pale, uncertainty awash in his eyes. “Do I have to tell him that?”

Brogan had listened to the lad’s tale earlier that morn, after Ian had taken him to him. “Aye, ye do.”

“But he be the king,” the lad pleaded.

David sat up straighter in his chair. “Tell me.”

Looking David straight in the eye, he stammered for a moment. “He said he did no’ care if he had to lie or bribe ye or even the pope, he was goin’ to get the marriage to Brogan set aside, so that he could marry our lady off to Courtemanche. He said there was too much at stake.”

The entire room drew their breaths at once. David was furious. “Be that true?” he asked Aymer.

Aymer looked as though he had seen a ghost. “N-nay, yer grace!” he exclaimed.

Looking at Courtemanche, David said, “And what part do ye play in all this?”

The Frenchman looked no better than Aymer. “I-I did not know she had married the Scot until we arrived at their keep last autumn. ’Twas Aymer’s idea to forge the proxy. I went along with it, because he promised her to me.”

Bolting to his feet, David called for his guards. “Take him away,” he ordered. While Aymer protested vociferously about the injustice being shown him, David looked at Brogan and Mairghread. “I find ye both innocent of all charges. Yer marriage stands.” With a wave of his hand, he bid them good day before quitting the room.

Mairghread all but collapsed into Brogan’s arms. A few people in the crowd cheered as Ian and the rest of their men put up a protective wall around them.

“Thank, God!” Mairghread cried against Brogan’s chest.

He kissed the top of her head. “’Tis all over now, lass.”

Hugging him tightly, she said, “Brogan, I want to away this place at once. I want to go home.”

There would not be a request he would deny her for a very long while.

They did not wait to find out what punishment David would bestow upon Aymer. Within an hour of the proceedings they were on their way back to Mactavish lands.