“Listen to what I say and believe I can make it so. I will be sure all the Welsh in the region know what you did. The fire of your lie will be followed by the blaze of truth and my words will overtake and consume yours.”

“Nesta, hear what I am trying to say—”

“If you attempt to pursue this, I will not submit and say the pledge or vows. Starve me if you want. Beat me. I will deny you with my last breath. I will—”

“Nesta, we were betrothed last night. The whole household saw you accept me. They all heard you make the pledge.”

Shock took her breath away. For an instant her whole body went cold. Then, as full comprehension pierced her astonishment, the heat of fury trickled through her again.

“You plied me with wine and then took advantage of my condition. I will explain that—”

“No one will believe you. You were very happy, Nesta. Delighted. You refused to break the betrothal kiss, and hung on me long after it was over.”

A kiss …

“All of the witnesses will say that you pledged your troth willingly. Eagerly.”

Bright colors and laughter. Words that she could not hear.

Marcus strolled toward her. His dark eyes regarded her warmly as he gently brushed an errant strand of hair from her temple. “You also pledged your love. The women were in tears, you were so eloquent.”

Dear saints. She felt her face burn, with anger and embarrassment. “I was out of my head.”

“You did not appear to be. Perhaps for once you were in your right head, free of the burdens you carry.”

“If I spoke words of love, I assure you I was not myself.”

Her mind veered from memory to memory. She tried to pull the ones that mattered out of the fog, but only little snips would come. Instead she saw herself at the table, and Marcus being so solicitous. Flattering her. Feeding her tidbits.

Agreeing to send her to Scotland. Lies, that. But why bother with such deceptions?

The answer broke through her confusion. He had done it so she would drop her guard, and act softly toward him. If they appeared affectionate, what followed would not appear odd and abrupt.

She saw him again, mesmerizing her with his attention, raising a wine cup to her lips …

“You churl. I was not in my cups at all. You fed me a potion!”

He did not turn a hair. “An excellent one. Paul knows this wisewoman—”

“You spent a day in prayer and God told you to drug me?”

“I prayed very little that day. I retreated to my chamber to test the potion on myself first, to be sure it would not harm you. David held the vigil with me, to let me know later how I had been affected.”