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Annora had quickly learned that it was as unwise to annoy Egan as it was to annoy Donnell. He had yet to do more than slap her once or twice, but he had nearly beaten to death several other women at Dunncraig for what were very small mistakes.
    Annora wondered why the man was such a brute. Despite the pockmarks on his face he was not unhandsome. His eyes should have been lovely, for they were a soft hazel color, but they were the coldest eyes she had ever seen. Egan’s features were a bit rough, but even and well placed. Yet, when he was angry, he looked cruel enough to scare anyone who saw him. She did her best never to make him angry.
    She just wished he had not taken such an interest in her. Thus far she had been fortunate, for he had not tried too hard to force his attentions on her. Sadly, she knew of a few women who had found out the hard way that Egan did not like to be refused and was not above simply throwing the woman down and taking what he wanted. Annora feared that one day he would do the same to her. She sincerely doubted that Donnell would do anything to stop the man or even punish him if he was successful in raping her. If not for Meggie, she would have fled Dunncraig within weeks of arriving and minutes after receiving that first lust-filled look from Egan.
    “So they should do because, until the laird finds himself a wife, ye are the highest born lady here.”
    “Many women of high birth work in the garden. Tisnae as if I am out plowing a field.”
    The way his eyes narrowed told Annora that her words had come out a little sharper than she had intended them to. When Egan crossed his thick arms over his chest, she inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. Such a position showed arrogance, which annoyed her, but held no real threat of violence.
    “Best ye dinnae stay out in the sun too long or ye will be as brown and wrinkled as one of those women. Now, Donnell has been looking for ye.”
    “Oh, I see.” She stood up and brushed off her skirts. “He needs me to go to the village again?”
    “Nay. Seems someone is coming to visit and he needs ye to be sure everything is done as it should be for guests.”
    “Do I ken who is coming? Such knowledge could aid me in deciding what should be served at the meal.”
    “Laird Chisholm and his sons.”
    Annora barely repressed a shiver of distaste. Ian Chisholm, laird of Dubhuisge, was big, hairy, and smelly. His two hulking sons were no better. He was eager to join with Donnell in trying to expand their holdings. It made Annora afraid for those clans nearby who were not as strong or as brutal. They had already suffered from raids made by Donnell and the Chisholms; they did not need the deprivations brought by these mento get even worse. All three Chisholms also thought she should be part of the courtesies offered them as Donnell’s guests. It had not happened yet and she had the feeling it was because of Egan. She just wished she could feel grateful for that.
    “Weel then, I had best go and speak to Big Marta.”
    “Aye, and tell that old woman that we want plenty of meat on the table and it had better be cooked right.”
    It was hard, but Annora resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the man as he walked away. Big Marta was a very good cook. Such criticism of her work was unwarranted and she had no intention of repeating it. She had the feeling that Egan, and Donnell, used such criticisms and insults to keep people subdued and eager to please. The man had not seemed to notice that such tactics did not work with Big Marta.
    Collecting Meggie, Annora took the child up to the nursery and cleaned her up. She left her in the care of Annie, a young girl of thirteen who liked to help in the nursery, for it kept her out of sight of Donnell’s men. After cleaning up herself, Annora then hurried down to the kitchens.
    “Big Marta,” she began as she walked up to the woman who was stirring a thick stew that smelled delicious, “there are to be guests for