Tarass leaned in close, his cheek brushing hers as he whispered, “I would take you to our bedchamber and teach you what it means to obey your husband.”

Snow swallowed her gasp and where her response came from she couldn’t say. “Or perhaps I would teach you what a wife not only needs but wants from her husband.” She pulled her arm free. “Let’s go, Nettle.”

She walked away glad Nettle had hold of her arm, afraid her trembling legs would fail her.

“I’m assuming your anger has something to do with the body you came across in the woods?” Twilla asked after Snow was gone from the room.

Tarass swerved around to glare at the old woman. “How do you know about the body?” He shook his head while answering his own question. “Rannock.”

Twilla ignored him and continued with questions. “Has the body been retrieved? Do you know the identity of the person? Friend or foe?”

“Enough, Twilla,” Tarass ordered.

“No, it’s not enough,” Twilla snapped. “Year after year I stayed here, alone, and guarded your home so it would not fall to another clan. As long as a MacFiere occupied the keep, the surrounding clans had to protect it, so I stayed and kept my promise to your da. I thought all of you; your da, mum, and you would return. It broke my heart to learn of your parents’ death, and I want revenge for their murders as much as you do. So for my loyalty alone, I ask that you tell me what goes on. I am sure your da told you that I know many of the MacFiere secrets and will take them to my grave, meaning you can trust me with anything… my lord.”

Tarass remembered Twilla from his time here and she was right. His dad had told him to trust Twilla above all else. That she knew things about the MacFiere clan, things she had given her word would remain unspoken. And she had kept her word to Tarass’s annoyance.

“The snowstorm is too dangerous to send the men out to retrieve the body,” Tarass said.

“If it is too dangerous for your men, then it is even more dangerous for others. The body will be left undisturbed and buried even deeper than it already is.”

“I want to think that, but I can’t be sure. What if he wasn’t alone? What if others search for him?”

“Unlikely in this snowstorm,” Twilla assured him. “Where had you gone and why wear the garments of your mum’s people?”

“I had trading talks with a tribe and with the weather turning bad, I didn’t stop to change my garments,” he explained, something he didn’t do often, feeling he owed no one an explanation for anything. But Twilla had sacrificed for the clan and his da had talked about rewarding her upon their return home.