Bhaltair's gaze moved from his captain to the woman, and his expression grew thunderous."Who is this?And why is she bound and gagged?"
"'Tis the bride of the MacNeil," Dugald replied, oblivious to the building storm in his laird's eyes."The one with the skill for brewing, among other things."
"The MacNeils of Barra?"Bhaltair's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
"Aye."
"This is their laird's lady wife?"
"Aye."
"And ye stole her so she can brew our whiskey?"
"Aye."
Without warning, Bhaltair stormed across the room and punched Dugald square across the jaw with enough force to send the man staggering."Are ye daft, man?"he roared."Ye dinnae steal someone else's wife!"
Lileas flinched at the violence, then shuffled backward as this imposing stranger turned toward her with that thunderous expression.But when she cowered, he immediately raised his hand in a calming gesture, his voice gentling as if he were speaking to a frightened horse.
"Steady there," he said quietly."I'll not harm ye."
Moving slowly and deliberately, he approached and carefully removed her gag, then drew his dagger.Lileas tensed, but he had already turned her around and sliced through the ropes that bound her wrists with quick, efficient strokes.
When she faced him again, rubbing feeling back into her hands, she found herself looking up at a man whose anger was clearly directed at his own men rather than at her.
Dugald was getting to his feet, blood trickling from his split lip."We got her to help ye," he spluttered.
"I dinnae need this kind of help," Bhaltair snapped."The last thing I want is a clan war.We can barely spare the men as it is.Is this what ye lot have been off doing while I've been trying to salvage what's left of this place?"
His men looked suddenly uncomfortable, shuffling their feet like children caught in mischief.
"I've been asking ye to help rebuild the keep, get the seeds into the ground, crops out of the fields, fix the water system, mend the roof, repair the cottages and ye've been off kidnapping a married woman?"Bhaltair's voice rose with each word, his fury evident.
The men now looked openly contrite, avoiding their laird's blazing gaze.
"Bloody hell!"Bhaltair shook his head in disgust, then began barking orders."Ada!Bring refreshments for our...guest.And ask Gregory to ready my horse."
An elderly woman with kind eyes appeared and gently led Lileas to a chair by the fire, pressing a warm cup of mead into her hands.Lileas thanked her and took a sip then immediately winced at the taste.
"What are you doing, Laird?"Dugald asked, still nursing his jaw.
"I am returning this woman to her husband," Bhaltair replied curtly, "that's if he doesn't murder us all beforehand."
Lileas looked up from her cup, studying this unexpected turn of events."This tastes terrible," she announced bluntly."Who brewed it?"
Bhaltair blinked at her directness."What?"
"It has too much barley in it.Try a little more honey and less grain next time.The balance is all wrong."
"Aye...all right," he replied, clearly taken aback by her casual criticism.
"And that corner there that keeps leaking," Lileas continued, gesturing toward a spot where water dripped steadily into a bucket, "ye can patch it with straw bound in mud clay, and it willnae trouble ye anymore."
"Anything else?"Bhaltair asked, his tone caught between irritation and amusement.
"Aye, that rash on yer sword arm," Lileas said, noticing the angry red welts that covered his forearm and how he unconsciously scratched at them."The one that troubles ye."
"Yes, 'tis from some plant in the woods," he replied, surprised that she had noticed.
