to be told about what ye had learned?”
“Nay learned, Alpin, only suspected. It had to be your free choice, and I feared that if I told ye about it, the choice might not be so verra free. I also feared I might be wrong, and, if I convinced ye that I had found the answer only to have naught change, it would be cruel.”
Alpin stared at her for a moment, then yanked her into his arms and heartily kissed her before striding out of the room. Sophie grabbed his shirt, yanked it on over her nightshift, and hurried after him. When she, Nella, and Eric reached him, Alpin stood unmoving, staring at the doors leading outside with his hands clenched tightly at his sides. Sophie stepped closer and took one of his hands in hers.
“The last time the sun’s light touched me, it nearly killed me,” Alpin said quietly.
“I dinnae think it will this time, my love,” Sophie said, then drawled, “We will pull ye back inside if ye start smoldering.”
“Wretch,” he murmured, then, taking a deep breath and keeping a firm grip upon Sophie’s hand, he strode outside.
Sophie stayed close by his side as he went down the steps and cautiously moved out into the bailey. She stood quietly, feeling his tension and fear fade as his exaltation grew. His grip on her hand grew tight enough to be a little painful and she looked at him. His face was turned up to the sun, his eyes closed, and tears seeped from beneath his eyelids. Sophie moved to hug him, pressing closer when he wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head.
“I fear to believe it,” he said as he fought to compose himself, since nearly all of the people of Nochdaidh were there watching him.
“Weel, how do ye feel?”
“I think I might actually be feeling something that has long been missing from Nochdaidh—hope.”
“Trouble, m’laird,” said Eric, moving to stand beside Alpin.
Looking at the crowd of villagers rushing in through the gates carrying torches and crude weapons, Alpin drawled, “Mayhap I spoke too soon.” He kept his arm around Sophie’s shoulders as she turned to face the crowd.
The embarrassment Sophie felt over being seen so strangely attired by so many people faded quickly as she realized what had brought the villagers to Nochdaidh. Several smiles and small waves from a number of the women in the crowd told Sophie she would have allies if she chose her words carefully. The confusion that had beset so many of the crowd as they realized Nochdaidh was no longer shrouded in shadow and the laird was standing before them looking nothing like a demon would also aid her.
“This is my fault,” she told Alpin. “I neglected to solve poor Donald’s murder. I shall see to this.”
“Shall ye now?”
He had to bite back a grin as she stood straighter and frowned at the villagers. She wore only his loosely laced shirt over her nightshift, her feet were bare, and her hair was hanging loose and obviously unbrushed. Her appearance seemed to have taken some of the fight out of the mob, who were already confused by the sunlight warming the bailey, so he decided to let her rule for a while. She knew more about the incident than he did, and all his men were subtly moving into a defensive position around the crowd, ready to act if the mood grew dangerous again.
“I suspect ye havenae come to congratulate me on my wedding,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
“M’lady, we have come seeking justice,” said Ian the butcher as he stepped to the fore of the crowd. “The killer of my son must pay.”
“Did I talk to the wind that day? I believe I said the laird had naught to do with it.”
“If ye will pardon me saying so, ’tis clear ye are under the mon’s power. Who else could have murdered my lad? He had no enemies. We cannae find a single mon who disliked him.”
“Then he will be kindly remembered, and that should comfort ye. But what about a woman?”
“My lad was true to his wife and, ere he wed her, he was a lad of strong morals. And he was a big, strong lad. What lass could kill him?”
Sophie shook her head. “One cutting his throat as he slept, just as I told ye was done. Aye, and one of those strikes upon his head may have come first to make sure he didnae wake whilst he was being murdered.”
“But, he wasnae one to play with the lasses,” Master Ian protested.
Although Gemma felt no guilt over her crime, Sophie sensed that the woman was afraid and her rage had not been satisfied with the spilling of poor Donald’s blood. That was the woman’s weak point and Sophie prepared herself to strike at it hard. “That doesnae mean there was no lass who wanted him to play.” She sighed and shook her head. “A vain woman he turned aside, mayhap? Some woman who couldnae accept that he, or any mon, could resist her charms. Or that Donald would resist her allure to hold fast to his sweet, loving, beautiful wife—”
“Who couldnae satisfy any mon!” Gemma yelled, then paled as she realized what she had done.
Sophie could not believe the woman had broken so quickly, then stepped behind Alpin as chaos ruled. Only the quick, occasionally rough intervention of Alpin’s men kept Gemma from paying for her crime at the hands of the mob. As she was dragged off to the dungeon to await judgment, she screamed out enough confirmation of her guilt to hang her. Sophie slowly approached a desolate Master Ian, noting out of the corner of her eye a plump widow of mature years who was having difficulty resisting the urge to do the same. Master Ian would not be alone for long.
“I am verra sorry, Master Ian,” she said, patting his arm. “Did ye love her then?”
He shook his head. “Loneliness and lust, m’lady. The downfall of many a mon, I suspect. Only, my weakness cost my lad his life.”
“Nay, Master Ian, ne’er think that. Ye did no wrong, nor did your son. The guilt is hers alone.” She leaned closer to him and cast a pointed glance toward the widow tentatively edging closer. “Learn from your weakness if ye must. I think the lesson might be that a good cure for loneliness isnae always to be found in the young or the bonny.” She squeaked with surprise when Alpin suddenly grasped her by the arm and pulled her back to his side. “I was comforting the poor mon.”
“Ye were matchmaking,” he murmured, but frowned out the gates as a troop of horsemen came riding into view. “A busy day.”
Sophie noticed that the villagers quickly slipped behind the men of Nochdaidh, then she looked at the approaching men and softly groaned. She should have taken time during the long, lusty night she and Alpin had just spent together to tell him a few of the truths she had kept to herself. Recognizing the four young men leading about a dozen others into Nochdaidh, she knew a lot of those truths were about to be revealed.
“Ye ken who these people are?” asked Alpin, feeling Sophie tense as the four handsome young men leading the others dismounted but a yard from them and eyed Sophie with a mixture of annoyance, shock, and amusement.
“My brothers,” she said and pointed to each as she introduced them. “Sir Adrian, Sir Robert, Sir Gilbert, and Sir Neil.” She took a steadying breath, knowing things could become a little chaotic, and took Alpin’s hand in hers. “This is my husband, Sir Alpin MacCordy, laird of Nochdaidh.” She winced when they all stared at her for a moment, then all cursed.
“Ye
