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try not to make her suffer overmuch for it. I asked Trilby to attend her. She is a sweet, biddable girl.”
    “Aye, but you still have the wedding night.”
    Rory swore again. He’d thought of that, of course. Rape did not appeal to him. ‘Twas not unusual for a husband and wife to have separate bedchambers, but occasional visits would be necessary. And he would have to maintain his role as fool and blusterer. It was a fine line to walk. Too much a fool and Neil would try to usurp him.
    He leaned over and brushed Mary’s brow with his lips. She had become as a sister to him in the past few months. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
    Mary nodded, her eyes showing worry. Worry for him. She and Alister were the only two people who’d ever given a damn whether he lived or died.
    He touched her shoulder with what he hoped was assurance. “Mayhap we will have a slight lull in our business,” he said.
    He turned and watched Alister. The smithy was putting away Rory’s sword and his dirk, even the pistol he carried. He wrapped them carefully in a plaid, then swept away dirt from a section of floor at the side of the fireplace. He and Rory had dug a hole there, lined it with cloth to keep the clothes and weapon clean, then fitted a board on top. Dirt would then be swept over it, matching the rest of the beaten earth floor. Finally, a table would cover it.
    Rory’s bay was kept in a makeshift corral in back of the house, obvious to those few who ventured to Mary’s home for medicines. No effort was ever made to hide it, unlike the old swaybacked piebald secreted in a cave not far away, along with a sleek black stallion stolen from a careless British officer drinking in a wayside tavern.
    Alister finished his task. Rory gave him his hand, and Alister took it in both of his. “You will be staying awhile?”
    “Aye,” Alister replied, his gaze going to Mary.
    Rory grinned at him, then Mary. He knew she cared deeply for Alister, and the feeling was reciprocated. But Rory needed to continue the pretense of an affair, at least for a while. And then …
    Well, then , nothing would make him happier than a union between Mary and Alister. She had suffered enough and, God knew, she had risked everything for him.
    “I go and face the wench then,” he said.
    “She is not uncomely,” Alister said. “Mayhap …”
    “A wife, any wife, my friend, is most certainly a curse.” Before either of his friends could debate the issue, he strode out the door and to the back. He quickly saddled his horse, and swung up onto its back.
    A wife . He’d never intended on taking one. His mother’s marriage had been made in hell, and he’d grown up amidst his mother’s and father’s hatred for each other. In Edinburgh he had seen few happy marriages; in truth he did not know of one. Faithful wives had been the exception, and nearly every man had a mistress. It had left him with a sour taste for the institution.
    And to start with a reluctant bride blackmailed into marriage.
    Bloody hell!
    “The marquis is back,” Trilby told her shyly. “He wishes you to meet him in his study. I came to help you dress.” A day had gone by. Pleading exhaustion, she had remained in her room despite invitations from Neil Forbes to join the clan for supper the night before. Now her hands felt icy and her heart thumped as erratically as the steps of a man being led to the gallows. She could no longer pretend that something might disrupt this godless marriage. She missed Dougal enormously, as she missed her older brothers. She could do nothing to help the latter, but at least she could save Dougal. With that thought, she allowed Trilby to brush her freshly washed hair and lace it with flowers.
    She stared into the mirror. Her face was pale and thin. Food had been sparse since she’d been taken from her home, but even if it had not, she’d lost her appetite. She ate only enough to keep alive. How could she eat when she’d seen her clansmen killed as