"Aye, chief," they said in a chorus.
Neacal searched the face of each man present as he spoke, looking for any expression which indicated disrespect or deception. "Farquar swore fealty to me but clearly he was lying, otherwise he would not have dared challenge me. Any other traitors here will be dealt with accordingly. I'm a new chief, true, but I expect and demand loyalty, respect and obedience. If any of you cannot willingly offer me that, leave now." He pointed toward the gates.
Everyone stood in frozen silence for a moment, then, of their own volition, the men took turns kneeling before him, offering their dirks, hilts first, swearing their fealty yet again. Although Neacal did not require it at this time, he certainly appreciated it. He hoped he could start trusting some of them. He made note of the men who hung back. They were the ones he would have to keep an eye on. Parlan was among them. Although they did finally come forward and mimic the actions of their fellow clansmen, they did so reluctantly.
***
Anna lay as patiently as she could in a small, sparse bedchamber of the servants' corridor while Tavia examined her arms and legs for bruises and broken bones. She even checked her ribs through her shift.
"Mistress Pottenger wanted me to tell you she regrets sending you out to the shed," Tavia said. "And she is sorry you were attacked."
"It wasn't her fault." Anna still could not believe what had almost happened. Good heavens! No man had ever forced himself on her, not even the despicable Blackburn, and she prayed such a thing would never happen.
How had Neacal known she was being assaulted? He must have heard her scream. Regardless, her prayers had been answered, thank God. In that moment, when Neacal had charged in and kicked the beast off her, then fought with him… so many emotions had assailed her she could not comprehend them all—gratitude, joy, relief, and then fear for him. She'd not thanked him enough and surely owed him a grand debt of gratitude. He was a true hero. How could the clan think him mad? He was far saner than most men.
Tavia pressed her fingers against a tender spot on Anna's elbow. She hissed at the soreness. "I tell you, Tavia, I might have a few bruises, but I have no broken bones. If I did, they would be paining me severely, don't you think?"
"Aye, but if the laird wishes me to check you over good, then I will. If some injury comes to light, he would be angry with me for not finding it right away."
Anna nodded. She was right, of course. Though she hadn't known Tavia long, she liked the healer, who appeared to be in her mid-thirties. "You are extremely loyal to him, are you not?"
"Of course. I have great respect for his lairdship."
Anna did, too. In fact, he was one of the few men she'd met, aside from her late husband, who was completely honorable. The way Neacal had carried her across the bailey had at first alarmed her, but once she realized he only wanted to help, she'd felt comforted and protected.
Female voices echoed in through the half open door from the corridor. "Did you hear?"
"What?"
"The laird killed one of his own guards, out behind the stables. He is mad, in truth!"
A flash of anger took hold of Anna. She shoved herself from the bed, despite Tavia's protests, and widened the door. "He is not mad," she told the two gossips. "'Twas a fair sword fight. The guard challenged the laird. What do you think he would do with someone so disloyal?"
They gaped at her wide-eyed. "How do you ken? Were you there?"
"Aye, I was." She closed the door and returned to the bed. "The chief is a good man," she said, lying down again. Irritation still simmered inside her.
"Indeed, he is," Tavia said, her green eyes more intense. "I'm glad more people are seeing this. I detest the rumors that he is mad. 'Tis true he is very troubled but he has a right to be."
"The servants were whispering that he was tortured in the past."
"Aye."
"What happened?" Anna asked.
"I know not all the details, but when his clansmen brought him back here, he was knocked out. If only you could've seen how severe his wounds were." She shook her head, sorrow in her eyes. "'Tis a miracle he survived at all."
Anna hated to imagine Neacal in such terrible shape. The scars on his face were evidence of how horribly he'd been treated. But how many more scars did he have beneath his clothes?
"Did you attend to his injuries?" Anna asked.
"Aye. Thanks be to God the lad is healed and stronger than ever before."
"He does appear strong." And the way he had easily carried her proved that. His arms and chest had felt as if they were made of steel.
"The scar on his face frightens some people," Tavia observed.
"Not me." Anna would mention her sister's facial scar, but then Tavia would ask what happened. 'Twas too dangerous to talk about the past.
