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"Nay, there is no need," Kinnon said gloomily. "I'm sure 'tis all in order."

They were once again in the hall, though now it held a dozen Maxwell men and the same number of Kirallens. Deirdre stood to one side of Jemmy's chair, her cold hand held fast in Alistair's grip.

Kinnon glanced their way. "Damn you, Alistair," he said without heat. "So this is how ye return our hospitality?"

"Och, Kinnon, since when is it a sin to fall in love?" Alistair said, just as though he meant it. "The lady is free and so am I, so where's the trouble?"

"My father is the trouble, as well ye ken. But—"

There was a scuffle in the lower hall and Jemmy rose from his seat, a spasm of pain passing quickly across his face. "Sir Calder, stand back," he called in ringing tones. But the knight either did not hear or chose to ignore him. Calder drew back his arm and struck one of the Maxwells—and the hall erupted into a brawl.

"God damn him," Jemmy muttered, starting forward. "Kinnon, call your men off—"

Before Kinnon could move, the men tumbled forward and one drew a dagger from his belt, springing with terrifying speed from the fray toward Jemmy, who stood alone before his chair.

Alistair let go Deirdre's hand and leaped forward. Even as Alyson cried out a warning that would have come too late, Alistair seized the man's wrist, but was carried backward by the force of his charge. He stumbled into Jemmy and the three of them went down.

In a moment Alistair was on his feet again, turning to pull Jemmy upright. The Maxwell man lay still in a widening pool of blood.

Now, at last, Kinnon spoke. "Stop!" he cried, his voice shrill with fear. "I order ye to halt!"

"To me!" Jemmy cried. "At once! Sir Calder—the rest of you—enough!"

He pulled Calder back by the neck of his jerkin and the crack of his hand across the knight's face rang through the hall. "I said stand back," he said into the sudden silence. "All of you."

The men obeyed, each side drawing to an opposite corner of the hall. "Jemmy, are ye all right?" Kinnon asked anxiously, peering into Jemmy's ashen face.

"I'm fine. He didn't touch me. I think it's best you take your men and go."

"Aye, all right," Kinnon said, glancing down at the still form lying on the floor. "I am sorry—I canna imagine what Duran was thinkin'—come on, men, take him up."

Jemmy stood until the Maxwells were gone, then fixed his knights with a stern eye. "Every one of you was at fault here today," he said. "I will—" he staggered a little and groped for the back of his chair, missed, and collapsed face down on the floor.

Alyson ran forward and fell to her knees with an anguished cry.

"Turn him over—it's all right, he's just fainted—Conal, Donal," she ordered. "Get over here. Lift him—gently now—and get him to his bed."

Deirdre was beside her in an instant, her hand firm on Alyson's elbow. Together they followed Jemmy from the hall. Alyson turned when she reached the doorway, her eyes going over each of the knights in turn. More than a few bent before her searching look, staring at the rushes covering the floor.

When the women had vanished through the doorway, Alistair stood and faced the knights, arms folded across his chest. "Now," he said. "Someone tell me what just happened here."

"I will," Calder said, rubbing his cheek where the mark of Jemmy's hand showed. "The rest of you get out."

When they were alone, Calder perched on the arm of Jemmy's chair and scowled.

"What the devil are ye playing at, Alistair?" he demanded. "What were ye thinkin' to get in the way as ye did?"

"Instinct, I suppose," Alistair said casually. "It all happened very fast. I'm afraid I didn't think at all."

"Well, ye'd best start thinkin'. Christ, man, there it was, the chance we've all been waitin' for. But mayhap it won't matter. That shoulder is still troubling him—it may yet take him off. Even if it doesn't, he'll no be laird after the old man is dead. I've been busy while ye were away."

"What have ye been busy about?" Alistair asked, forcing himself to smile as he spoke.

"Weel, it's like this. The council is all for Malcolm—and for you, Alistair. The boy will be guided by us every step along the way. Is that no' what ye wanted?"

This was what Alistair had wanted a year ago. In that year he had changed—but everything here was still the same. It was all going forward, everything he had put in motion.

"I never said I wanted Jemmy murdered. Never that."