Camille, standing up beside her as maid of honor, gave her a reassuring smile when she reached the front.

Lachlan took her right hand in his. "You're lovely," he whispered.

You are, too, she wanted to say, but could do naught but offer him a brief, wobbly smile. Her mouth was so dry she feared she would not be able to utter a word. Her white gloves prevented her from feeling the warmth of his roughened skin as she had during their first ceremony. She missed that small comfort.

As the minister recited the ceremony, Angelique grew more aware of the many Drummagan clan members and other clan chiefs behind them, witnessing their lives being bound together.

This time when Lachlan kissed her, she was ashamed to realize she welcomed his lips on hers and his tongue flitting into places it shouldn't with dozens of people looking on. If only the marriage bed involved kissing and not...coupling, she would be happy.

Smiling, Lachlan tucked her hand around his elbow and they rushed down the aisle toward the exit. Outside, pistols fired toward the sky in a salute and the kirk bells rang out. A cheer went up from the guests and grain showered down upon them as they raced across the stone courtyard. Angelique could not help but join in the happiness. Before she realized it, she was laughing.

Lachlan abruptly picked her up and kissed her again. Heavens! A brief but potent kiss. The crowd grew louder at this spectacle, with more shouts, whistles and laughter. She could not take her gaze from his smiling face as he carried her up the castle steps. At the threshold, one of the clanswomen gifted Angelique with a basket filled with bread and cheese. Lachlan then carried her into the great hall and set her in her garland decorated chair at high table, then sat beside her. Yes, he was having a grand old time, blast him. But so was she.

***

"M'laird, Kormad is at the gates, demanding entrance," Bryson whispered in Lachlan's ear where he sat at high table during the wedding feast.

The bastard had a lot of nerve. "You jest," Lachlan murmured low so no one else would overhear.

Bryson shook his head, his dark eyes most serious.

With the noisy celebration, music, and dancing going on, no one seemed to notice the interruption. "I'll be right back," Lachlan told Angelique, seated beside him, then followed Bryson to a more private area. "How many men with him?"

"About a dozen."

"Are they dressed for fighting?"

"Nay."

"Have Rebbie and Dirk meet me outside. Don't tell them why. And don't let any of the other guests nor my wife ken of this."

"Aye, m'laird."

"Send ten archers onto the roof."

Bryson nodded and hastened away.

Two of Lachlan's personal bodyguards followed him through the exit. He peered beyond the courtyard toward the gates. The sun was setting, casting Kormad and his party in silhouette outside the gates. Several Drummagan guards stood firm on this side.

"What's this about?" Rebbie asked, joining him. Dirk and the rest of the men filed onto the castle steps.

"We have uninvited guests." Lachlan nodded toward the gate. "Kormad, with a dozen men."

The chief of Clan Buchanan shouldered his way into the small space. "Is Kormad looking for trouble?" he asked in a gruff voice.

"We don't ken yet. They're not wearing armor."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

"Indeed."

Several more men joined them, Drummagans and men from the other clans, all carrying swords or pistols. En masse, they approached the gates.

"Kormad, how kind of you to pay us a visit," Lachlan said, staring hard into Kormad's malevolent dark eyes.

"MacGrath—er, I guess I should call you Draughon now since you're the earl—good to see you again." His sneer didn't pass for a smile. "I wasn't invited to your weddin' feast. I'm hurt."

"I didn't ken you were yet returned from London," Lachlan said, pretending he didn't know who had rained arrows upon them and injured Dirk.

"I posted some of my men here to keep the Drummagan clan and Draughon Castle safe until a new laird arrived. I'm wonderin' what happened to them. Are they in your dungeon…or dead?"

"Neither. I sent your men home to you with a message. Did you not receive it?"

Kormad was silent a moment, frowning, his gaze darting about before landing on Lachlan again. "What message?"

"The leader of your men refused us entrance. I challenged him to a duel and won. But I let him live so he could tell you that if you wish to possess Draughon Castle, you would have to come and try to claim it yourself. Is that what you've come for?"

Kormad eyed Lachlan, then the men behind him—several powerful men including another earl, a baron, and three chiefs. Not to mention all their bodyguards and the armed Drummagans.

Kormad laughed, fake and loud. "Nay. Of course not. My men were acting under their own foolish notions. I never told them to keep you or Lady Angelique out, only outlaws so the castle wouldn't be looted."

"Well, I thank you for your concern. The castle is safe and in good hands now. You and your men are welcome to partake of the feast if you turn over all your weapons."

Kormad hesitated. "I thank you for your hospitality, but I must be on my way. I only returned yesterday and I have much work to do."

"I'm sure you do." More plotting and conniving.

"A good eve to you, Draughon. And congratulations again on your marriage."

"I thank you."

Kormad and his men mounted, turned their horses about and rode away.

"You should take one of his men or family members hostage. That would keep him in line," the Buchanan said.

"He doesn't give a damn about his men," Rebbie said. "I wager that's why they ran away when you sent them packing, rather than face him with failure."

Lachlan nodded. "Without doubt."

"That one bears close watching," Buchanan said and returned inside. Most of the other men followed.

Lachlan called Bryson aside. "See that all guards are at their posts. Tell me immediately if you see aught amiss."

"Aye, m'laird."

Lachlan mounted the steps.

"I'll stay out here and keep watch," Dirk said, standing by the portal, his left arm in a sling and a sword in his right hand.

"You'll do no such thing," Lachlan said. "You're still recovering from that arrow. Only last night you had fever."

Dirk cast a suspicious glance about in the gloaming and lowered his voice. "How do you ken you can trust all the Drummagans? You don't even ken what kind of men some of them are."

"I don't trust them. All we can do is be on guard at all times 'til they prove their loyalty." Nay, indeed, he suspected some of them were stealing from Draughon's coffers.

Dirk nodded. "Still, I'll stay out here a while. 'Tis too loud in there."

The wild, wary look in Dirk's eyes concerned Lachlan. "Do you ken something you're not telling me?"

"Nay. I just don't like the feel of the air."

***

Trying to ignore Lachlan's large warm hand lying on her shoulder as they sat together at high table, Angelique tugged the red satin ribbon, releasing the bow of the tartan wrapped gift. Two silver and brass, jewel-encrusted daggers lay within, one large and one small.

"How lovely!" she said, running the pads of her fingers over the smooth rubies and emeralds studding the hilts of each. The sheaths were also decorated in the same manner.