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Brodie Maxwell fixed his wife and daughter with a hard stare. "So that's the greeting I get, is it?"

He walked toward them and Deirdre retreated, step by step, her eyes fixed upon her husband's face.

"Brodie, I thought—we all thought—" she said, her voice hoarse from the bruising of her throat and trembling with fear.

"Well, ye were wrong. Now give me the bairn and we'll be going home."

"Mam! No!"

"Ronan, don't!" Deirdre said, not taking her eyes from Brodie. But even without looking, she knew that Ronan was tensed to spring. "Don't move, don't say a word."

"That's right, laddie," Brodie said with a smile that showed every one of his teeth. "Best listen to Deirdre. She kens me well."

Jemmy moved forward with lightning swiftness. "Brodie, why, I'm clean amazed! Come, sit down and tell us what—"

"Get back, Kirallen," Brodie spat, shrugging Jemmy's hand from his shoulder. "I've come for what's mine and I'll have it. Dinna think to get between us. For Deirdre and I have some talkin' to do. A lot of talkin'."

Deirdre went numb with terror as he spoke the words she had heard so often in the past and tried so desperately to forget.

"Time to have a talk, Deirdre," Brodie had announced cheerfully soon after their marriage. She had followed him willingly enough to their chamber that first time, thinking he meant exactly what he said. She had no idea he was angry until he slammed the door behind her and she found herself alone with a blank-eyed stranger who looked through her as if she wasn't there. "Come here, lass," he'd said in a strange hoarse voice, "we have a bit of talkin' to do."

Now she fought against the paralyzing sense of inevitability that stole over her, the voice whispering in her mind, "No one will help you, he's your husband, and fighting only makes it worse." She hated that voice with its cowardly weakness, and her greatest fear was that one day she would give up and admit that it was right. Or, she amended, that had been her greatest fear. Until today. She suspected that the conversation Brodie had in mind would be something far worse than she had ever known.

Jemmy stood directly opposite her, hands fisted at his sides, and said nothing. But at least he didn't look away. Usually they did that, just like Kinnon was doing now, staring down at his feet as though they were the most fascinating things he'd ever seen. And later, when the talking was all done and she came back to the hall, they wouldn't look at her directly. They glanced at her sideways—asklent, they called it here—pretending that nothing had happened. Pretending they didn't see the bruises.

She stood rooted to the floor, head held high, as Brodie approached. She had married him, had stood up in the church and said the vows. And by the laws of Scotland and Brodie's God, she had become his property, to do with exactly as he pleased.

I didn't know, she wanted to cry out. It isn't like this in Donegal! There a woman counts for something. But she held her tongue. If justice was denied her, she would not beg for pity. That would accomplish nothing but to demean her even further, for she knew from long experience that no one in this place, no matter how well intentioned they might be, would interfere between a man and his wife.

"I don't think so, Brodie," Alistair said quietly, stepping from behind Deirdre. "Whatever ye have to say, ye say to me."

"Get out of my way, Alistair," Brodie said, sounding more surprised than angry at this turn of events.

"No."

"Jemmy," Brodie said, his eyes never leaving Alistair. "Call him off. The woman is mine and the bairn, as well. I have my rights."

"And I have mine," Alistair shot back swiftly, before Jemmy could reply. "Deirdre and I were married yesterday."

Jemmy's mouth shut with a snap.

"Married?" Brodie's heavy face looked completely blank for a moment, then he threw back his head and laughed. "Ye daft bugger, ye canna be married, for she has a husband living."

"Well, we didna know that then, did we?" Alistair said reasonably. "And now the deed is done."

The Kirallen men-at-arms looked dumbfounded as they stared at Jemmy, who shook his head briefly, cautioning them not to move.

Kinnon cleared his throat. "Who witnessed this marriage?"

"I did," Ronan answered quickly.

"And the other?"

Silence descended on the hall and Deirdre bit her lip. Alistair might mean well, but his story had just made everything worse. And now it was about to be exposed for the lie it was.

"'Twas I."

All heads turned toward Alyson. "Forgive me, my lord," she said to Jemmy. "I have grown so fond of Lady Maxwell that I could not refuse her."