Page 29 of Moon Craving

assumption that only an Englishman would beat a woman relieves some of my fear of

what is to come."

She hadn't meant to make the admission, but she needn't have worried. Neither

warrior seemed particularly moved or impressed by it.

Niall said, "He is your laird as well."

"If I marry him, he will be."

"You will marry me." She could not hear his tone, but the certainty in his eyes left

no room for doubt. In either of them.

"Surely you would be pleased if Sir Reuben refused the match," she could not help

saying.

"I would be insulted and forced to kill him." He didn't look particularly bothered by

that possibility, nor did he appear to be making a joke.

She, on the other hand, felt another clammy hand of fear take hold of her heart.

The probability Talorc would declare war on her stepfather when he discovered her

deception--as he was sure eventually to do--only increased in her mind.

"Why be insulted? You hate the English."

"Aye."

Her stomach dropped, her concern for her stepfather forgotten for the moment.

"Then you hate me."

"No."

"No?"

"Nay."

"He does not hate the innocent," Niall clarified.

Talorc looked over his shoulder at his warrior and then back to Abigail. He

shrugged. "I do not hate the innocent."

There was something about the way he said it, something in his expression that

implied he thought English and innocent antithetical to each other. And yet he had said he

did not hate her.

She searched his gaze for the truth. She knew hatred. She'd lived with her own

mother's for years now. Talorc's stance was not combative, nor was it, or his demeanor,