Furious with himself, he snarled at the crowd outside his bedchamber, pushing through them and bursting into the room. The sight that met him was enough to bring him to a halt before he had even really managed to step through the doorframe. He was aware of his mother-in-law and his wife’s maid’s presence on the periphery of his consciousness. He even took brief note of the old hag now tending his wife’s wound. But really, all of Duncan’s attention was focused on the frail-looking woman on the bed.

Relief that she still lived was his first reaction. He closed his eyes briefly and gave up a silent prayer of thanks. His wife lived. And no matter what she did to provoke him, he would not neglect his duties again. He would see to her safety.

Whispers from the people behind him drew his attention to the fact that he had left the door wide open. Duncan immediately reached back to slam it closed, then strode to her bedside. He was sorry he had done so almost the very moment that he paused to peer down at her. She had on nothing but that damned belt of hers. The sight of her clad so was enough to set his blood pounding and frustrate him all at once.

Embarrassed by what he considered his own lack of control, Duncan dropped his gaze to the floor in an attempt to regain himself. Unfortunately, that merely replaced one blood-boiling emotion for another as he spotted the ripped and bloodied gown at his feet. Bending, he picked it up and looked it over carefully, taking in the size of the hole and the amount of blood soaking the cloth. He peered past Gertie at the wound. It was a relief to see that, while it had bled freely, it did not appear to be life-threatening. But that hardly cooled his temper. Her beautiful, flawless skin was now flawed. And by his failure. The scar she would bear would be the proof of his lack as a husband.

“What happened?” he asked, and she told him.

Silence descended once she had finished; then Duncan whirled on his heel and strode from the room. The door had barely crashed closed when he began bellowing orders and arranging guard duty; then he stomped below once more, trying desperately to ignore the pain he had seen in his wife’s eyes.

“I don’t think they meant to kill Iliana.”

Duncan glanced toward his father in surprise.

Shaking away thoughts of his wife’s near death, Duncan lifted the ale he had just poured for himself, grimacing over the way his hand shook as he brought the drink to his mouth. He was surprised by the depth of the emotion the attack had wrought in him.