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it.
    “Cease your games, Edmee,” Cathal snapped, pulling away from her touch. “They dinnae amuse me.”
    “Amusing ye wasnae what I had in mind.”
    Cathal ignored her and looked at Scymynd. “As ye can see, Lady Bridget has recovered from her ordeal.”
    “Aye.” Scymynd smiled at Bridget. “She must be eager to continue her journey.”
    It was not easy, but Bridget hid her reaction to Scymynd’s smile. It was not a pleasant expression, but coldly threatening. What caused the flicker of alarm she felt, however, was that he had teeth just like Jankyn. She was coming to the unsettling conclusion that those teeth were not the result of some clever work with a file, some odd vanity practiced by some of the MacNachtons. Why someone would have fangs to make a wolf envious was not something Bridget cared to think about. She softly dragged her fingernails over the hard surface of the table to reassure herself that they were still long, sharp, and hard.
    Cathal idly noted Bridget’s move and inwardly frowned. He suddenly realized that she had rather long fingernails, not one of which appeared to have suffered even the smallest chip from her ordeal, either. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jankyn intently staring at Bridget’s hands. Cathal decided he would have to discuss Bridget with Jankyn for there was obviously something about the woman that held his cousin’s interest. Jankyn knew a great deal about almost every family in Scotland and, if he had some knowledge about the Callans, Cathal wanted to know what it was. But, now, he thought as he looked at Scymynd, he had other problems to deal with.
    “She is staying at Cambrun,” Cathal announced, taking one of Bridget’s hands in his and keeping his gaze fixed upon Scymynd and Edmee. “She was headed to her cousin’s to seek a husband. I have decided that she need look no further.”
    The touch of Cathal’s hand sent a warmth through Bridget that startled her. The way he was idly stroking her palm with one of his long fingers was sending small, delightful shivers through her. She had to force herself to pay attention to the confrontation going on between the MacNachtons. One look at the faces of Scymynd and Edmee made Bridget very glad she had been too distracted to immediately gainsay Cathal. Cathal’s plan to marry her plainly did not meet with this couple’s approval, and Bridget had a strong suspicion it was due to a lot more than Edmee wanting the laird for herself. She had the chilling feeling that she was rapidly being pulled into the middle of some battle for power.
    “Ye still intend to marry an Outsider? To sully our bloodline?” Scymynd asked, his voice taut and cold.
    A brief squeeze of her hand from Cathal caused Bridget to bite back the angry defense of her clan she had been about to make. The look of cold fury upon Cathal’s face, one echoed by Jankyn, told Bridget that she was not the only one who had just been insulted. A quick glance around the great hall revealed that everyone’s attention was fixed upon this confrontation. The MacNachtons may have rescued her from one perilous confrontation, but it was increasingly clear to Bridget that the laird had set her down in the middle of another.
    “I believe I made my plans verra clear months ago,” replied Cathal.
    “Ye dinnae e’en ken who this woman is,” snapped Edmee. “She could be some thief.”
    “She is Lady Bridget Callan of Dunsmuir, sister of the laird, cousin to Lady Barbara Matheson, and my betrothed.” Cathal was pleased Bridget made no protest, that she had the wit to know that now was not a good time to argue his plans for her. “I have found nothing to e’en hint that she may not be exactly who she claims she is. Thus, she is a perfect choice.”
    “Ye should choose one of your own. Ye put us all at risk, try to destroy all that we are,” said Scymynd.
    Cathal shifted the grip of his hand upon Bridget’s just enough so that he could stroke the inside of her