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Deirdre glanced back over her shoulder.

"She can spare ye for an hour," Alistair said. "And where is Maeve? I hoped to see her."

"In the gardens," Deirdre said. "Let me send someone for Maggie and then I can go."

"I'll see to it," he offered.

A few minutes later Deirdre walked into the Ravenspur garden, a riot of bright colors and sweet scents. Deirdre inhaled deeply, then pulled the coif from her head and let the sun beat down upon her head.

"It is beautiful," Alistair said, his gaze moving over the flowerbeds and neatly clipped lawn. "She's done much in just a year."

Then he smiled, catching sight of Maeve. "Hello, sweeting," he called and she looked up, her small face lighting with pleasure.

"Star!" she cried, running across the lawn and jumping into his arms. He swung her around until she screamed with laughter, then held her high above his head and looked into her face.

"And what have ye been about, poppet?"

"Horsy!" she said excitedly. "There—"

Deirdre followed her pointing finger to see Malcolm rise laughing from his knees.

"So you're the horsy, are ye?" Alistair said, swinging Maeve onto his shoulders and walking over to the boy.

"A very fine steed, too," he replied with a grin. "Good morning to ye, Lady Maxwell."

"Again!" Maeve cried, tugging at Alistair's hair. "Horsey—again!"

"All right, then," Malcolm said agreeably. "Have another ride if ye like."

Alistair led Deirdre to a stone bench set among the roses and stretched out on the grass at her feet, looking up at her through his lashes with a smile. He could not be plotting murder and treachery, she thought. He simply could not. It was impossible that he could look at her like this, his eyes so bright and clear, if that was so.

"The Maxwells have gone, I trust?" she said lightly.

"Aye, God rot them."

"What do you think happened, earlier, in the hall?"

He looked down at the grass, avoiding her gaze. "Things got a bit out of hand, didn't they? Apparently the man was a bit the worse for drink—" He shrugged.

"It seemed as though Sir Calder started the whole thing."

"That is not what the knights say," he answered evasively.

So he was defending Sir Calder now. Deirdre's heart faltered, but she forced herself to smile brightly.

"And have you seen the laird?"

"I've seen him, aye, but he has not seen me. He was asleep yesterday. I must go back to him soon."

"And what do you think he'll say to you?"

"I won't know until he says it, will I?" he answered sharply.

"But surely you have some idea! Alistair," she said directly, abandoning all pretense, "What if he asks you to come back for good and all? What will you do?"

She braced herself against his anger, but when he spoke, it was barely more than a whisper.

"I don't know," he said, sounding utterly exhausted. "I didn't want this, you must believe that. Damn them for dragging me back into it again! Before God and all the saints, I have half a mind to ride out of here right now and make for Donegal."