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"I didn't want it to stop," Alyson said, wondering. "I wanted it to go on and on forever."

Alistair lifted his goblet to his lips. "Aye, he plays tunably enough. But I canna say I cared much for the song."

Alyson stared at him as though he must mad, but Jemmy only looked at him gravely. Deirdre wondered how much Jemmy knew and what he must think of her, a silent—if unwilling—partner in Ronan's cruel game.

"I thank you, Master Harper," Jemmy called. "You have gifted us beyond all words."

Ronan inclined his dark head in apparent humility, then glanced up at Deirdre with a wink so broad not a person in the hall could miss it.

She could take no more. As he began to play again, she jumped to her feet, murmured a quick excuse, and fled. The corridor was deserted and she leaned her burning brow against the cold stone wall. Oh, that was ill done, Ronan, she thought with rising anger. She had told him all the kindness that Alistair had shown her. But that was Ronan, whose humor often held a malicious edge.

And yet he had come for her. She couldn't forget that. He had come all this way to find her. While Alistair couldn't wait to see the back of her.

She bit back the tears that threatened when she remembered that moment on the hillside, that perfect moment she could never forget, no matter how hard she might try. The moment that Alistair had broken her heart. But at least I have Ronan, she thought. He still loves me.

And she loved him, as well, though her love would never approach the feeling she had for Alistair. When Ronan held her she felt no quickening of her pulse, no desire to run her hands through his hair or feel his lips on hers. And Ronan felt none of those things for her. Had never felt them. But he still believed that what they had between them was true love.

If not for Alistair, she might have grown to believe it herself.

Lost in her own thoughts, she jumped with a startled cry as a heavy hand descended on her shoulder. She turned to see a burly man with light brown hair staring down at her.

"What—?" She drew herself up. "Who are you, sir, and what do you want of me?"

"Whisht yer clabber and listen," the man said in a harsh whisper. He loomed over her and she shrank back against the wall. The corridor stretched empty to either side, lit by guttering torches. From the hall came the sounds of laughter and voices raised in song, and she knew that even if she screamed, no one would hear her.

"What is it?" she asked with a brisk confidence she was far from feeling.

"Tell Alistair we're watchin' him."

"I have no idea what you are talking about. Now step back, if you please, or—"

The man grinned. "Ye dinna need to understand. Just remember. And tell him we have ways o' makin' sure he minds us."

"What—"

She had no time for more, for his hands were about her neck. She struggled, beating against his chest, kicking vainly at his shins, and his laughter was mingled with the pounding of the blood in her ears as black spots danced before her eyes.

And then, when the black spots began to merge and the sound of music thinned to a distant hum, he released her and stepped back. She fell painfully to her knees, one hand at her throat, and at last managed to draw a ragged, sobbing breath.

"Will ye tell him?"

When she said nothing he wound his hand in her hair, jerking her head upright. "Answer me, lady, when I speak to ye."

She nodded frantically, furious at her own helplessness to stop the tears trailing down her cheeks.

"Do it soon. We are not patient men."

And then the corridor was empty again. She struggled to her feet and nausea rolled through her. She clamped a hand over her mouth, willing herself not to vomit, trying desperately to breathe.

"Deirdre, where have you been? You missed—"

It was Alyson with Jemmy beside her, both of them looking at her with concern.

"What happened to you, lady?" Jemmy asked. "Are you ill?"

"Deirdre, what happened?" Alyson asked, her voice sharp with fear. "Did someone—hurt you?"

Deirdre clutched her throat, trying to force the words to come. But it was like a nightmare; she couldn't speak, she couldn't make so much as a sound. And then Alistair was there, pushing between Alyson and Jemmy, and without a word he lifted her as easily as if she was a child and carried her swiftly up the stairs.