Talorc would shift to wolf form and tear the other man's throat out if he thought Niall meant any disrespect, but he knew the scarred warrior did not. "She does not see the scars."

"Nay." Niall seemed bemused by that fact.

Talorc did not answer. There was nothing to say. Niall frightened most women of their clan. Most of the men, too, when it came down to it.

"She sleeps in your arms as if she trusts you with her very life."

"Does she have a choice?" He was her husband. She had no better protection.

"No," Niall acknowledged, "but she is not afraid."

"She fears something." He'd noticed the trepidation right away and believed that meant she was weak. Now he wasn't so sure.

"Aye. But not you."

"She's nervous about the marriage bed."

"You claimed her last night. Every Chrechte warrior here could smell it. Hell, even a human soldier probably would have."

Just as he'd meant it to be. "Not completely."

"What are you waiting for?" Niall frowned. "You aren't going to try to annul the marriage?"

"You think she is a fitting mate for your laird?"

"Before we met her, I would have said no. She was English."

"Now?"

"She hasn't likened you to a goat yet."

"There is that."

"So, you will will keep her?" keep her?"

"She is mine."

"Yet you wait to claim her."

"I will not perform the Chrechte mating rite on any land but my own."

Understanding dawned in Niall's eyes. "So, that's why we're riding so damn fast.

We didn't keep this pace on the way to the MacDonald holding."

"I want to get home," Talorc growled.

Abigail shifted in his arms and tilted her head back so she could see his face. "Did I sleep long?" she whispered.

"Aye."

She blushed but didn't say anything else.

"You can talk," he told her.

"We're off your rival's land?"

"Yes."

"My father's soldiers said nothing of having to pass through enemy territory when they were in Scotland escorting Emily."

"The whole time they were out of England they were in his enemy's domain."

"But our kings are allies."

Talorc shrugged.

She crossed her arms and glared. "You do that every time you don't feel like answering."

"What?"

"Shrug."

He did again. Just to see what she would do.

She laughed, a soft, muted music he wanted to kiss from her lips.

She screeched as he bent to do just that, but he swallowed that sound, too. She tasted like sleepy innocence.

When he lifted his head, she looked dazed.

Niall laughed, loud and long. "I believe your ways will take some getting used to."

The other Chrechte soldiers around them stared at Niall as if they had never seen him before. True, the man rarely laughed. Okay, until this trip, Talorc had not heard him do so in years, but that was no reason to gawk like a bunch of gossiping women.

He gave his warriors a look that told them so, and they went back to watching the terrain as they should do. Talorc never lost his awareness of their surroundings, even when his mouth molded to Abigail's.

"Will we be at the Sinclair holding soon?"

"We will be on Sinclair land late tomorrow."

He felt the tension fill her. She knew exactly what that meant. "You do not think it would be better to wait until we reached your keep?"

She did not say what would be better, but they were both fully aware.

"No."

"Oh."

His wolf would kill something if Talorc made the beast wait to claim his mate.

"Why did you take me off my horse earlier?" she asked.

"You were tired."

"You noticed?" She sounded chagrined by the possibility.

"Yes." He had, but he'd also noticed the way she'd been bonding with Niall, and rational or not, his wolf had insisted Talorc stake his claim.

"You are not as I expected."

"Why?"

"You hate the English and you would have killed my stepfather without blinking, but you have shown me consideration."

"You are my bride."

"Emily was to be your bride, but you were not so considerate of her."

"I had no intention of marrying Emily."

"So, why agree to marry me?"

He had lived almost three more years without a mate and realized he would probably never find one. "My king offered sufficient incentive."

"My dowry."

"Aye."

"At least you get something you want from this marriage." She spoke quietly, almost as if to herself.

"I want you, too."

"You don't want an English wife."

"You aren't English."

"What am I, then?"

"Mine."

Abigail was once again riding her own horse the next day when Talorc signed for his soldiers to stop. It was nowhere near nightfall and they had watered the horses recently. It had been another silent ride today, and Abigail had not minded a bit.

Trying to keep track of the conversations around her while on horseback was quite taxing.

She did not ask why they had stopped because she did not know if it was safe to speak.

Talorc swung down off his horse, said something to Niall and then crossed to Abigail's horse. He put his hands out. "Come."

She reached toward him, allowing her husband to lift her from the horse. He helped her to find her feet, holding on to her until her stiff muscles started working again.

"Why have we stopped?" Not that she was complaining.

"Would you like a bath?" he asked.

She looked around, unsure where such a feat might be performed. She saw no source of water, but she did not allow the apparent lack to dull her enthusiasm. If he offered, he had a way to make it happen.

"Yes!"

He laughed and then turned and walked away. She assumed she was supposed to follow, so she did. He led her to a cave opening. She hung back as he entered the cave.

He stopped inside the entrance and put his hand out. "Come."

She shook her head.

He nodded.

"What if there are wild animals in there?"

"You must trust me."

"It is not you I mistrust."

"Who then?"

"Wild animals." She swallowed, trying to wet her dry throat. "I do not easily make friends."

In truth, she had made none since discovering what the fever had taken from her.

But her friendship with Jack, son of Jon the blacksmith, had predated her fever.

And he had not let her push him away afterward. He'd even ferreted out her secret-to this day she did not know how. But the young lad had told her it didn't matter and insisted on being kind to her.

"So?" Talorc asked.

"There was a boy I played with as a girl. My father's blacksmith's son. He was torn apart by a wolf. I saw his body." She shivered at the grisly memory, not faded one iota by the years that had come between. "It was horrible. Death comes too easily."

Talorc went curiously still. "You have nothing to fear from wolves."

"You think not?"

"I will protect you."

"What about bears?"

His lips quirked in a half smile, no impatience at her reticence in his face. "You have nothing to fear at all when you are with me."

She nodded and that seemed to please him.