He took the seat across from her, watching her with great interest. "And?"
"They hated that you didn't allow Sleat entrance. They said they would help Sleat in any way possible."
"Help him do what?"
"Take over as chief."
Neacal frowned, a spark of rage entering his flame-blue eyes. "Who was it?"
"I know not their names."
"Can you point them out to me?"
"Aye, of course."
His troubled gaze searched hers. "What else did they say?"
"One said he thought Sleat would return with a larger force."
"Bastards," Neacal growled, then darted a quick glance to her. "Pray pardon."
"I understand how you must feel—betrayed by some of your clansmen."
He nodded and stared into the fire for a moment, then turned his gaze back to her. "Did they say anything else?"
"They're going to try to find out who in the clan might be on their side."
"Traitors," he muttered, then stood and paced.
"What will you do to them?" she asked.
Pausing, Neacal stared at the beautiful woman sitting before the fire. With her last words to him, he had a flash of insight—Anna was no peasant, nor even a merchant. He should have realized this before. She had a cultured way of speaking and was not the least bit subservient. She boldly asked him whatever she wished to know. Was she a lady? The daughter of a chief or laird?
"I will toss them in the dungeon and find out who they've managed to turn against me," Neacal said. "Were you afraid I would hang them on sight?"
"Nay, of course not." She gave a wee sheepish grin. "I simply didn't want you to go on my word alone. I know you'll need more proof or witnesses."
He nodded. "I'll have one of my most trusted men spy on them. Mayhap pretend to be on their side so he can find out more."
Her expression lightened. "'Twould be brilliant."
Saints, how lovely she was. He wished to know every detail about her, every secret which hid behind her enchanting green eyes.
"Is your true name Anna Douglas?" he asked.
Her gaze sharpened on him. "Aye. Do you think I'm lying?"
"Nay. I but wondered if you're a chief's daughter. You seem well-spoken and highly educated," he rushed to say. 'Twas the truth, but also he didn't wish to anger her.
She shook her head. "My father was a merchant in Inverness. He had a fair amount of wealth when I was growing up, provided good tutors for my sister and me, but then he lost everything. He passed several years ago, along with my mother."
"I'm sorry to hear that. You still have a sister?"
"Aye. Kristina is blind and lives with my aunt."
"But you prefer the life of a traveling minstrel?"
"Indeed, so I can support myself and her. My aunt and uncle have little means, but I couldn't bring my sister with me on the road. Sometimes we walk for days. 'Twould be too hard on her."
