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Alasdair let go. Angus slid down the wall onto the bench, coughing, with one hand at his neck.

“Aye, m’laird,” he croaked. “I meant nothing by it.”

“Then say nothing,” Alasdair said, “and ye’ll mean it.”

He walked back up the hall in that silence and sat down beside her again, and picked up his own cup as if he had only stepped away to fetch it. His knuckles were white on it.

Iona’s heart was still racing. My wife, he had said, in front of all of them.

“I didnae ask ye to choke a man for me, MacVey,” she said.

“Ye didnae have to.” He kept his eyes on the hall. “Ye’re mine to protect now, and mine to fight for. No man in this keep will dare disrespect ye again.”

“No man but you, then,” Iona said.

“No man but me,” Alasdair said. “And I’ll take my time over it.”

The corner of his mouth moved. She hated him for it. She hated more that her own mouth wanted to answer it, and she leaned in close so that only he would hear.

“Ye can choke every man in yer hall,” she said. “It’ll no’ get ye one step nearer my bed.”

The smile stayed exactly where it was. He turned his head then, and his eyes went over her face, slow and dark, and stopped on her mouth.

“Ye’ll sleep in my chamber tonight,” he said. “My people will be watching to see if ye do.”

• • •

Alasdair kicked the chamber door shut behind them, and she spun round at the foot of the bed, put her back against the bedpost, and said, “I’ll no’ share yer bed.”

He had known she would say it. He had not known how she would look saying it, with the firelight on her and her chin up and her lips still swollen from the chapel.

“Ye told me so,” he said.

“Then ye ken I meant it,” she said.

“I ken ye meant it then.” He pulled his coat off and threw it over the chest, and saw her eyes follow his hands and then jerk away to the wall. “Ye kissed me back in that chapel, Iona.”

Iona stared him down. “Yer hand was shaking on my neck. I felt it, MacVey. Who was marked in that chapel, do ye think? Me, or you?”

His smile went crooked. “Ye think ye’ve the measure of me, lass?”

“I think ye wanted it a great deal more than I did,” Iona said.

“Then come here and prove me wrong.”

She came off the bedpost and shoved him in the chest with both hands, hard enough to rock him back a step.

He did not give her the chance to do it again. He hauled her in, hard against him. Then they were standing chest to chest in the firelight, and her breath was coming hard against his throat. Her eyes were green, a dark wet green with the fire in them, and they were blazing at him.

“Let go of me,” she said.

“Ye started it, lass,” he said. “And ye’re my wife. Mine. Given to me by the King, to do with as I please. I could put ye on that bed this minute, and nobody would stop me.”

“That’s why I’ll no’ lie down with ye.” Her voice cracked and came back harder. “Ye look at me as ye look at yer horse and yer sword. A thing ye own. I’ll no’ be owned, MacVey. No’ by the King’s paper, and no’ by you.”

He pushed her back onto the bed and came down on top of her, his weight on his forearms either side of her head.

“Owned?” he said, a breath from her mouth. “Ye’ve had me by the throat since the day I put ye on my saddle.”