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done.
    It startled her when her husband leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth. Monstrous! Then to compound the infamy he
     turned her to the assemblage.
    Since she’d been too flustered after making her request for the regency to look about her when walking with the king and her
     intended, she’d not noticed how huge the throng had become. For most of the day she’d sensed good feeling among the people,
     though a time or two she’d felt that there were malicious gazes on her. Now, she was too taken aback to do anything but stare
     at their numbers.
    When her husband raised her hand with his, a roar went up thundering through the trees, surely bending the bracken to the
     ground and making her jump. If that was their battle cry, no wonder good men blanched.
    Her mouth fell open when a woolen was thrown over her shoulder in the same pattern her husband wore. The thunderous cacophony
     was accompanied by a dreadful occurrence. The warriors with the same plaid as her husband howled another dreadful battle cry,
     then heaved their mighty claymores high in the air. Morrigan was appalled. “They’re slaughtering the people!” she gasped.
    “Nay, milady. They honor you. None shall be hurt, I promise. Would I mar the day of our espousal?”
    It was already scarred beyond redemption by the mouthing of the vows. She didn’t say it out loud. It surprised her when her
     husband moved closer to her. Thedreaded Scot was a comfort who made her blood bubble. Surely she was coming down with an ailment.
    Everyone laughed when people clustered under the quickly drawn shields that caught the brunt of the weapons when they tumbled
     downward.
    “A tradition, milady. What think you of your clan?”
    “Their mirth escapes in strange ways,” she murmured.
    He laughed. “You are quick, milady.”
    “Not quick enough,” she muttered.
    He leaned over her. “I heard that. Had you hoped to escape me?”
    “Fortune disallowed it,” she blurted, seeing the flash of what she assumed was ire in his eyes. “I beg pardon. I do not mean
     to wound you.” He was prodigious handsome. No wonder the handmaidens and ladies-in-waiting discussed him.
    “Thank you. I’ll stanch the blood flow.”
    A smile pulled at her mouth. She liked his tart humor. “You could be hurt only by one of your mammoth swords, milord Maw-Ky.”
    He laughed. “So someone has tutored you in my name.”
    She nodded. “ ’Twas necessary.” She pointed to her mouth. “I couldn’t get my lips about it.” She blinked when he stared, his
     eye pinpointing what her finger touched. “Have I offended?”
    “Only if you are, in truth, a Circe?”
    Taken aback she stared at him. “Have you been imbibingthat infamous brew called uiskah made by the monks?”
    His laughter increased. “I would not let the churchmen fashion a drink for me. My people make it.”
    “I hear ’Tis passing cruel to sample.”
    He put his arm around her waist, still laughing. “Then I’ll only drink a tot when you do, wife.”
    “That’ll be never.” Had he no shame? Clutching her like she was a doxy! He deserved a good set down. If she could think of
     one she’d have dished it to him. “I should join Rhys. He’ll be wondering what has—”
    “He’ll not be worried. He knows you’re with your spouse.”
    Had she read his thoughts aright? He did not seem eager to dispose of her. “What are you pondering?”
    “How intriguing Welshwomen are, in truth.”
    Flustered, she struck rather than simpered as was her way. “How monstrous wrongheaded you are not to have known. Our comely
     women are sung of, far and wide.”
    “I’ll have to punish my people,” he murmured, leaning over her.
    “Rubbish! You’ll do no such thing.”
    He laughed. “Why has no one described your beauty? Surely that calls for torture.”
    “Nonsense.” She could scarce get a breath.
    “Would you believe I would give half my holding to see your tresses at this moment?”
    She coughed. “We…