Not that it would be any day soon. Alex knew there was no one who could come close to the West Highland chieftain. Hawk—MacSorley—was the best seafarer not just in Scotland but likely in Christendom. He was also the best swimmer, as Alex could personally attest. Years ago during training, MacSorley had saved his life in the stormy seas near the Isle of Skye.

Why the hell was he thinking of that now?

“Ah, the lady finally succumbed, did she?” one of the men said. “And I use the term ‘lady’ very loosely. From what I hear the quiet, mysterious lady is a she-cat in bed. I wouldn’t mind her sinking her claws into me. When you’re done with her, of course,” he said to Fitzgerald.

Alex stiffened at the crude talk. No man should talk about a woman that way—any woman—and it was worse, as these men were knights. They should know better, damn it.

Alex was about to remind them of that fact, when Fitzgerald spoke. “You should see her breasts,” the young captain said with an exaggerated groan. “Hell, if she wasn’t Buchan’s bastard, I might be tempted to marry her just to bury my face in them every—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. Alex had him slammed up against the castle wall with his hand around his throat. The reaction was pure instinct, and if the black rage that was pounding in Alex’s ears was any indication, the lad was lucky Alex hadn’t killed him outright.

Fitzgerald’s hands had gone directly to his neck and were trying to pull Alex’s away from his throat, but the younger man might as well have been trying to pry steel. Alex’s muscles were as rigid and fixed as an iron bar.

“I’ve heard enough of your vile lies,” Alex said in a voice he didn’t recognize. Hell, it had the low, deadly edge of MacRuairi’s. “How dare you speak of a lady that way.”

Fitzgerald’s friends had finally recovered from their shock. “Let him go,” one of them said, though he made no move to challenge Alex. “He can’t breathe.”

Realizing that Fitzgerald’s eyes were bulging, Alex lightened his hold just enough to let the other man suck in a few gasps of air. Fitzgerald gaped at Alex like he was a madman—which wasn’t that far off from how he felt.

“What . . . hell . . . Seton?” Fitzgerald said, pulling on Alex’s hand some more to release him.

“What’s going on here?” Alex recognized Pembroke’s voice behind him. “Let him go, Seton.”

Alex wasn’t inclined to do as he asked.

“That’s an order,” Pembroke added angrily.

It took a few moments for Alex’s head to clear enough to recognize the earl’s authority. The king had put Alex under his command, damn it.