“I ken no such thing.”

There was a sudden silence down the length of the main table, everyone turning to peer at the drama taking place.

“What mean ye by that?” she asked suspiciously.

Laird Angus chewed grimly at the stale cheese in his mouth, then swallowed before answering. “It is arranged. Laird Rolfe has persuaded me. We hashed it out the morning after the wedding. He left ere noon on that day to fetch the reluctant groom back.”

“What? But I thought—” Her voice failed her. She had obviously expected a different outcome to her father’s talk with Lord Rolfe. Seonaid looked as if she had been punched.

Oddly enough, so did Duncan, Iliana noted curiously. Her husband was as aware as the rest of them as to when Lord Rolfe and the bishop had departed. All she could think was that he had not spoken with his father since his leaving to learn the outcome of their discussions. But then, how could he have? she thought dryly. He was never here long enough to talk to anyone. He was out of the keep first thing in the morning and returned only long enough to eat his meals during the day. At night he crept in late enough that most people were asleep when he entered.

“Ye heard me,” was the old man’s calm response. “Yer wastin’ away here and I’ve a mind to see that that stops. Ye were born to have bairns. ’Tis time we saw some from ye.”

“Ye would have me marry that—that…Englishman?” She said the word as if it was the worst of insults.

“I would see ye married.”

Iliana held her breath in the hush that followed but was still unprepared for her sudden lunge to her feet. Seonaid deliberately tipped the trestle table over as she rose, sending pewter tankards and pitchers clanging loudly to the stone floor. “Well I’ll not marry the bastard!” she yelled furiously over the din, then whirled on her heel and raced from the room.

Silence descended on the hall again, then Duncan got slowly to his feet, giving Iliana an accusing glare as he did. As if Seonaid’s upset were somehow her fault, she thought with dismay as he turned and took the path the woman had taken.

Heaving a long sigh as Aelfread and Allistair rose and followed their cousins, Angus stood to straighten the table. After collecting the fallen mugs with the help of the other men, he sank back onto his seat beside Iliana, waiting patiently for Giorsal to hurry to the kitchen and back with a fresh pitcher of ale.

“I apologize fer me daughter,” he sighed as he refreshed first her tankard, then his own. “She believed herself likely to remain a maid forever. No without reason, mind ye.”

Iliana nodded silently, unsure what to say.