Connor stared out the small window in his chamber and tried to gather his thoughts. He did not often drink the amount of wine he’d consumed after returning to his room last even. After the second jug of wine, he’d ordered the MacCallum boy released. After the third, he’d locked himself in his room and tried to block out what he’d done that sent him running from his new wife. The fourth jug seemed to finally work and he’d passed out in his chair.

      The haze of the wine now helped him to block out Duncan’s droning on about some small matter about stolen cattle that needed to be found. He’d been ignoring him for several minutes when the door to his room opened with a crash and a small, old madwoman accosted him.

      Although she could barely reach that high, Ailsa swatted him hard on the side of his head and then again a second time when he did not get out of her way fast enough.

      “Ailsa! What has gotten into you?”

      When she came at him again, looking not a bit regretful of her actions, he grabbed her hands and held her fast. Although Duncan gave a generous smirk, he offered no other help.

      “How could ye? I nursed ye at my own breasts and know that no one ever mistreated ye.” She tugged one of her hands loose and swung at his head again.

      “Tell me what has brought on this fit of madness. In spite of your past care of me, I will not permit this to continue.”

      The woman backed away and took several deep breaths. Her furor kept her focus on him, so she had still not noticed Duncan standing in the shadows of the room.

      “I ken yer feelings on marrying again. We all ken. But she is yer wife now and she was a maiden at that.”

      He could feel his anger building from deep inside. He had no desire or intention of talking about the situation or occurrences between him and his wife with anyone, not even his old nurse. Before he could put her in her place, she whispered harshly.

      “I just left yer ladywife’s chambers where I found her huddled on the floor in front of a cold hearth. She’d passed the night there heaving and wrapped in whatever she could pull from the bed.”

      “What?” he roared. “That canna be true. She was in that bed when I left her.”

      Now she stepped closer and poked him sharply in his chest with her finger. “She drank whatever was left of yer fine wine and slept on the floor, I tell ye. And this,” she shoved a bundle into his hands and shook her head at him with something in her gaze that resembled disgust, “This is what ye left her in.”

      The sodden fabric fell open and he found himself holding a woman’s shift that had been torn and was red with what looked to be dried blood. His thoughts might be muddled by too much wine, but it took only a moment to realize what Ailsa had handed him.

      Connor clenched his jaws together. Could it be hers? She had not seemed overly distressed when he left. Indeed, she’d been more upset by what he’d been doing than when he’d finished and moved off the bed. And her refusal when he’d offered to send Ailsa to her showed someone who was well.

      “She was well when I left her.”

      “Weel, she isna now.”

      They stood toe-to-toe until Duncan made some noise that broke into their private conversation. Ailsa noticed Connor’s second-in-command standing near the door and stepped back from the confrontation.

      Still unwilling to discuss what he did and did not do, unwilling to even think about it, he crossed his arms over his chest, signaling an end to any more talk.

      “Ailsa, see to your duties and I will see to mine.”

      “Aye, laird. As ye wish,” Ailsa said, her voice filled with anger.

      “I did not harm her, Ailsa.”

      The old woman muttered something which Duncan heard for his face bore the look of someone trying not to laugh. The only words he had heard involved not caring for her either.

      “I think that someone of your years may not be the right maid for my new wife. Seek out and train one of the girls from the village to serve in your stead.”

      If she feared the threat, there was no sign of it. If anything changed, her expression hardened and the anger in her eyes flared anew. Ailsa crossed her arms over her own formidable chest and met his glare with a more insolent one. He’d used the threat on many, many occa sions but had never rid himself of the woman yet.

      Mayhap ’twas time?

      “Connor?” Duncan’s voice interrupted the two-sided argument.

      “Keep your thoughts to yourself, cousin. You have no place in this discussion.”

      “Then I bid you good day,” Duncan replied. With a hard smile and narrowed eyes, a nod to both of them and a few steps, he was gone from the chamber as was any hope that Connor had of keeping the full wrath of Ailsa at bay. He would not let this escalate into something that had him examining his motives or his intentions about this new wife. Not even for Ailsa. He raised his hand in front of her and shook his head.

      “Ailsa, go and see to the lady’s needs. I will speak to her later.”

      “And when she asks of her brother?”

      Damn! How did the woman discover so much so quickly?

      “Say nothing. I will speak to her of it later.”

      It could have been something he’d said or the tone of his voice, but Ailsa paused, sticking out her chin and meeting his gaze for a moment. Mayhap she’d sensed he had truly reached the limits of what he would accept from her in personal commentary or intrusion? Whatever had worked, he was glad of it. The servant nodded and backed away. When she’d reached the door and was pulling it closed as she left, the words escaped him.

      “I did not harm her, Ailsa.”

      “As ye say, laird,” she replied without slowing or looking back.

      Pushing aside all thoughts of the woman at the center of discussion, Connor decided he’d been