Jacob rose from the bench near the fire in Lyel’s room and crossed to the bed were Linnae sat beside him on the mattress. Last night, his breathing had been so shallow, everyone thought he was taking his last breaths.

Linnae had sat beside him all night, holding his hand. Lyel’s fingers were curled around hers, and his breathing was slow, but even. However, he had yet to open his eyes.

“Are you hungry, lass?” Jacob asked. “I will stay with him while you go down to get some food.”

She shook her head. “Nae. I am fine.”

He didn’t blame her for not wanting to leave. In truth, he feared leaving, as well. “I will have food brought up,” he said.

“I will remain with him, if you have things to do,” she said.

“Dinnae speak about me as if I am not here.”

Jacob froze at Lyel’s whispered words.

“You are awake,” Linnae cried. “We have been so worried.”

Lyel shifted slightly and looked at her. “No need to worry, lass. I am old. It is my time to die.” He lifted his free hand and patted the hand that gripped his other hand. “Jacob is right. You should eat.”

“He said he could have food brought here. I will stay.

Lyel's eyes shifted to him. “You have your hands full here, Jacob.”

Jacob nodded. “Aye.”

He called for food. To Jacob's surprise, Linnae was able to coax Lyel into drinking a bit of broth. By late morning, his eyes were a little brighter and he could speak above a whisper—which only gave him the opportunity to ask about the men in the dungeon and what information Jacob had learned from them.

Jacob told him that he had yet to interrogate the prisoners, then said to Linnae, “Tell Lyel about Glenwood Abbey.” Linnae hesitated, and he added, “He willnae be happy until he has every piece of information.” Jacob looked at Lyel. “He has always been like that.”

“And I will be like that until my dying breath.”

Jacob laughed despite himself. “Aye, Leyl, to your dying breath.”

Jacob stared down at Lyel, who quietly listened as Linnae described her time in Glenwood Abbey and her association with Malcolm Donald. Jacob would never cease to be amazed by Lyel. Even at the age of eighty-nine, too feeble to leave his bed, his mind was as sharp as it had ever been, and he ruled the MacKenzies with an iron fist.

“I swear, I havenae seen Malcolm in two years, Lai- Grandfather,” Linnae ended.

Lyel patted her hand. “I believe ye, lass.” Lyel looked at Jacob. “Once Malcolm learns you married Linnae, he will attempt to enlist her in his service.”

Jacob nodded.

“I have already sent word to the council. Michael will never take my place as chief,” Lyel said.

That surprised him. “I dinnae think you need me, at all.”

Lyel’s expression softened. “I need you now more than ever, lad. The lad taking my place is barely a man. Help him and you will be helping me.”

“Always,” Jacob said.

“I will leave Malcolm Donald to you,” Lyel said. “Just remember, he is responsible for my granddaughter’s death.

There was a special place in hell for Malcolm Donald, and Jacob planned on helping to get him there.

And that plan began with a wedding.

* * *

Linnae followed the wagon carrying Lady Alison’s body through the gates, then stopped and watched as it continued toward the bridge. Rebecca and Dina had no family, so Lyel had consented to bury them in the cemetery across the bridge. Lady Alison, however, was on her way home. Her brother would likely be away, but she would be buried alongside the parents she’d never known.

It seemed wrong to send her off alone, especially on an overcast day that promised rain, but Jacob and Lyel had been adamant that she not leave the safety of the castle. Whoever had killed Lady Alison might make an attempt on her life.

A cool breeze raised gooseflesh on her arms, but Linnae watched until the wagon reached the mainland and passed a group of riders. The wagon began to turn the bend.

“Goodbye, my friend,” she whispered, and stood there long after the wagon had disappeared from sight.

“Linnae!”

She turned to find Jacob striding through the gate. He hurried and caught up with her an instant later. “I have been searching for you. What the devil are you doing out here?”

A lump rose in her throat as she glanced toward the road. “I was saying goodbye.”

“What—” he broke off and pulled her into his arms. “I am sorry.”

She didn’t cry this time. But the pain dug deep in her heart. She allowed herself a moment of comfort in Jacob’s arms, then pulled back. They started back through the gate.

“I would like to be there when Dina and Rebecca are buried,” she said. “Their bodies are ready for burial.”

He nodded. “The cemetery is in a clearing not far from the road. I will make sure the graves are prepared.”

They passed through the gate and he pulled her aside to make way for half a dozen warriors who rode into the courtyard.

“Those are some of the men who spread the word that I have married Lyel’s adopted granddaughter,” Jacob said, as the riders continued toward the stables.

A tremor rippled through her. Jacob had sent men to spread the news of his marriage in hopes of flushing out Lady Alison’s killer.

“How many people do ye think will attend the wedding feast?” she asked.

“Cook is preparing food for at least three hundred.”

“Three hundred?” Linnae blurted. “She cannae be happy about having to prepare a feast for so many on such short notice.”

“She’s been in Lyel’s service for over forty years.” He laughed. “I think she would follow him into the grave, if possible.”

“Perhaps I should help with the preparations.”

“If ye mean giving guidance, aye,” he said.

She snapped her head up and met his gaze. “No more work in the kitchen?”

“Nae, lass. I promise, once we reach Dunakin Castle, you will be too busy running the household to do the actual cooking.” He paused, then asked, “Where did ye learn to read?”

“Some lasses at the abbey could read. One in particular, Helena, could read quite well. There were a few texts left in the scriptorium. She used those to teach anyone who wanted to learn.”

“Can you add?”

“A little.”

A group of girls, no more than sixteen years of age, passed. The lassies glanced at them—at Jacob, Linnae realized—and when they passed, giggles drifted back.

Linnae hid a smile and said, “Rumor is that ye can make a lass swoon just by looking at her.”

He looked sharply at her. Two heartbeats passed before he said, “That the rumor, eh?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Aye. According to legend, you can also break a tree in half with your bare hands.”

He turned his attention forward, and she glimpsed the amused upturn of his mouth. “I am a legend, then. Are ye duly impressed?”

“I heard tell ye are perfect.”

He looked at her, eyes gleaming with laughter and said in a conspiratorial voice, “I do have one huge fault.”

She cocked a brow. “Only one?”

“We will begin with the one. I do no’ share this with many people,” he whispered so quietly she found herself leaning slightly toward him. “I snore. Terribly.”

Linnae blinked, then narrowed her eyes and shoved his shoulder.

“ ‘Tis the truth,” he said with a laugh. “I can wake the entire castle.”

The heavens opened up and rain showered down on them.

Linnae cried out. Jacob hugged her close to his side as they raced the twenty feet to the keep. They reached the postern door. Jacob yanked it open and she hurried inside. A gust of wind whipped around her as he slammed the door shut.

“Good Lord,” she said with a laugh. “Ye are drenched.” Raindrops clung to his dark locks. Her stomach made a strange flip. “Ye are drenched,” she said. 

“So are you, love,” he said. “You must change.”

A shiver raced down her arms. “The rain was cold,” she admitted.

“Cold?” He lifted a brow. “We cannae have that.” He grasped her arms and yanked her against him.

“Jacob,” she squealed in the instant before his mouth covered hers.

She flushed warm. His tongue touched her mouth and she opened for him. He slid his tongue inside her mouth and Linnae melted against him. He may have been soaked, but he was certainly not cold. His warmth penetrated the fabric of her dress and even her nipples warmed.

Linnae slid her arms around his neck and rose on tiptoe. He crushed her closer and groaned. The juncture between her legs tightened. When he broke the kiss, the room spun slightly and she buried her face in his shirt. That kiss was certainly perfect.

She drew back and stepped from his embrace. “I will go and change.”

“I could come with ye.”

Linnae blinked. “You mean—Oh, we have the ceremony this afternoon, and I must--that is, I should visit Lyel.”

He nodded. “As ye wish, lass.”

“You aren’t angry?” she asked. “If you wish to come up, of course, you can. ‘Tis your chambers, after all.”

He gave her a wry grin. “If I come up, we will most certainly miss the ceremony, and you should spend time with Lyel. It will please him.”

She nodded, then hesitated before turning and heading toward the stairs. All reminded quiet behind her and she was certain he watched until she disappeared up the stairs. 

* * *

By the time the wedding celebration in the great hall was in full swing, Linnae began to grow fatigued. They’d gotten little sleep last night while standing vigil for Lyel, and she’d had not more than a moment to herself all day. In truth, she’d rather be with Lyel. But he’d insisted she and Jacob spend the evening at the feast, where they hoped Malcolm Donald would make an appearance.

“Isn’t the minstrel handsome?” Lady Innis said with a giggle.

Linnae glanced at Innis, who sat to her right at the dais table.

“Not as handsome as Jacob,” Sophie said loud enough to be heard over the din.

“Of course,” Lady Innis quickly added. “Ye are a very fortunate woman, Lady Linnae.”

Linnae grimaced. She would never grow accustomed to being called ‘Lady.’

“It really was wicked of you not to tell us who you were,” Lady Innes said. “Don’t you agree, Sophie?”

Sophie leaned forward and looked past Lady Innis at her. “I do,” she said. “Jacob knows we were very close with Lady Alison, so we are to be trusted. Oh, I will miss her.”

Lady Innes nodded.

Linnae’s heart twisted. It wasn’t fair that Lady Alison had died. But if she hadn’t died, Linnae would never have married Jacob. Guilt stabbed. God forgive her, she was glad she was married to him.

Married.

Jacob was her husband.

She still couldn’t believe it. Linnae cast a covert glance at him.

As if sensing her scrutiny, Jacob glanced her way. He winked and she yanked her gaze onto her plate. Would he consummate their marriage tonight? He had to. They weren’t officially man and wife until they consummated it.

“Linnae.”

Linnae jarred from her thoughts at the realization that Jacob was speaking to her.

“Ye seem deep in thought,” he said.

She shook her head. “I was thinking how I never thought I’d be married once, much less twice in two days.”

He grinned. “At least you married the same man.”

She couldn’t help laughing. The man was a charmer. And far too handsome for her own good.

Would you like to sit near the hearth and listen to the music?” Jacob asked.

Linnae smiled. “Aye.”

He stood, and waited for her to stand, then nodded at Ladies Innis and Sophie and led her down the steps to the hearth. The men clapped Jacob on the back as he passed. Jacob smiled in what Linnae would swear was genuine pleasure. Was he glad he married her?

They reached the hearth where the young minstrel played his lute. Linnae halted near the hearth and reveled in the warmth of the fire.

“Are ye cold, lass?” Jacob asked.

She hadn’t thought so, but the fire felt heavenly. He stepped closer and slipped an arm around her waist. She snapped her head up and met his gaze.

He offered a lopsided smile. “You will grow accustomed to my touch.”

She swallowed. Grow accustomed to his touch? Heaven help her.

His fingers flexed against her waist. Her heart began to beat fast.

“Are ye at all pleased to be married to me?” Jacob whispered.

To her surprise, his expression was earnest.

“Aye,” she said.

He regarded her. “Just ‘aye’?”

She tried not to smile. “Aye.”

He turned his attention to the fire. “Are you looking forward to us finishing tonight was we started last night?”

Her mouth dropped open. The rogue was baiting her. Two could play at this game.

Linnae looked at the fire. “Aye.”

He shifted and she tensed when he pressed his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Mayhap we will have to start from the beginning?”

His warm breath washed over her ear. She shivered but managed a, “Mayhap.”

Jacob drew her into his arms, threw back his head and laughed. The deep rich sound reverberated through her. He bent his head and surprised her with a quick, hard kiss. Cheers went up in the room and he grinned down at her, clearly pleased with himself.

“Laird.”

He looked past her as two men reached them.

The taller one bowed. “My lady.”

The other grinned, then said, “Forgive us, but we must borrow your husband for a moment.”

“Lads,” Jacob began, but the men laughed and clasped his shoulders.

Linnae watched as the warriors pulled him to one of the tables halfway across the room, shoved him down onto the bench, and filled a mug with ale. The shorter of the two—who wasn’t all that short—clapped him on the back and they all drained their mugs in three big gulps. She grimaced. Her husband would soon be drunk.

She recalled the warrior’s words last night, “If he’s too drunk to satisfy ye, lass, I can take his place.” Would he be too drunk to satisfy her?

She realized the minstrel had stopped playing and glanced down at him. He stared up at her, one brow lifted. Embarrassment washed over her. Surely, he couldn’t read her mind?

The postern door opened and from the corner of her eye, Linnae glimpsed a too-familiar figure. She yanked her gaze onto the three men who stood near the door. Her heart pounded as Malcolm Donald scanned the room. He had come. He had actually come. That had to mean he was responsible for Lady Alison’s death.