Page 115 of Moon Craving

English. "You spoke to me."

"I had my laird's leave to do so."

"Wow, Sybil would throw a fit worthy of a yowling, scalded cat if my father

presumed to dictate who could and could not speak to her."

"Does that mean you intend to throw such a fit?" Talorc asked, having approached

without her noticing.

She shook her head with a smile. "Not at all." If he but knew it, he had just made

her life all the easier. The fewer people that spoke directly to her, the less chance her

secret would be revealed.

"Good." He put his arms up, indicating he would help her from the horse. "Come."

She didn't hesitate, sliding from the white mare's back right into her husband's

strong arms. He set her from him immediately but put one hand on her shoulder. "I have

already introduced my wife, I now tell you that Abigail of the Sinclair is your new lady."

Surprise rippled through the crowd, but it was no stronger than her own sense of

astonishment. Even Abigail recognized a seal of approval when she "heard" it. Talorc was

telling his people he expected them to accept her.

Amazing.

She knew he had not done the same for Emily. Her sister had felt hated by the

Sinclairs.

An old man approached, a scowl on his wrinkled features. "You ask us to pledge

our loyalty to this Sassenach?"

"Nay."

Abigail felt her heart plummet. Had she misunderstood?

"I do not ask. I demand it. As is their right, any who wish to challenge me may do

so. Be assured, however, that I will consider the least slight to my mate a challenge for my

position as laird."

The old man stepped back, clearly reeling from his leader's words.

Abigail felt a bit faint herself. Talorc had just announced to all who cared to listen

that he considered her his friend. Warmth suffused her along with guilt she had kept

buried deep inside since she began hiding her deafness from those around her.