Yield to the Highlander. Terri Brisbin

were. ‘You are my friend.’

      ‘Muireall, I know you are my friend. Still, I will not cause you more strife with your husband or his family.’ Glancing outside to see if others watched, she lowered her voice. ‘Gowan is on his way home, summoned by Munro. All will be settled then.’

      ‘Will he believe your words?’ Muireall asked. She’d never once asked if they were true, she simply believed Cat. ‘What do you think he will do?’

      ‘I know not,’ Cat admitted. ‘He is a patient and fair man, but he can be hard, too. Now when his honour is involved...’ She shrugged. ‘If Munro has convinced him to return now and to these accusations, I just do not know.’

      If her friend sensed or heard too much of her despair, she would never leave. So, she forced a smile and hugged Muireall.

      ‘Go now! Who is with those bairns while you dawdle with me?’ Cat walked over and grasped the edge of the door, shushing her friend out.

      ‘You gave me no answer about supper.’ Muireall stopped in the middle of the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest. ‘And “no” had best not be what you say.’

      ‘Fine. I will come,’ she agreed. It would be the first enjoyable meal for her since...

      ‘You are worrying again.’ Muireall turned to leave, but glanced back again. ‘Worry not over Hugh. I am not.’

      * * *

      It became clear to her just a short time later that Hugh was a problem. When Cat arrived at her friend’s cottage, Muireall’s husband stomped out with a silent stare and as the bairns watched in shocked silence. Muireall welcomed her with watery tears and a brave smile, but Cat knew this would be the last time they shared together until Gowan returned and settled this matter.

      Until Gowan returned, nothing could be changed or fixed.

      * * *

      As she fell into a troubled sleep that night, images of Gowan’s return filled her dreams. Cat prayed that the man who had saved her life once would be able to save her honour now.

      But everything waited for Gowan’s return to Lairig Dubh.

      Chapter Seven

      Aidan answered his father’s summons when it came. Though he had expected to be called to answer for the rumoured actions long before this, he knew it would happen sooner rather than later. Knocking and then opening the door, he found his father, grim-faced, sitting in the chair he called his. His mother stood apart from him—not a good sign. Strife between the Beast and his mate was never good. Closing the door, he walked forward, kissing his mother and nodding and standing before his father.

      The silence grew, stronger and more uncomfortable by the moment. It was a strategy, used by his father many times, and a successful one at that. He waited, as practised at this as his parents were. Oh, his sister Lilidh would crumble in tears after a few moments of her father’s hard stare. And Sheena, the youngest, would have trembled by now and admitted all sorts of sins, both real and imagined or planned. But he was the eldest and could play this game.

      ‘A married woman, Aidan,’ his father finally said. Not a question as most would ask, but a statement, a judgement against him already.

      ‘You have never taken an interest in the women I take to my bed before, Father,’ he said, choosing not to answer the question even if it wasn’t asked yet. At his mother’s gasp, he realised his error. ‘I beg your pardon, Mother.’ He faced his father again. ‘She said no.’

      He’d never lied to his parents before. Oh, he’d told wild tales and twisted the truth when it suited his needs, but he had never lied. Would his father accept his word as truth now?

      ‘There are problems now, Aidan. Gowan carries out his duties well. He accepted whatever tasks or assignments I set before him. If others see that their wives could become the target of your efforts to fill your empty bed with a new lover...’ His mother gasped again and Aidan steeled himself for her displeasure even as his father attempted an apology of sorts.

      ‘I told you this was not a suitable matter for you to attend, Jocelyn. I said I would handle this myself.’ His father stood and approached his mother. ‘Your son is a man now and makes his own decisions. And he must stand by his actions as well.’

      Jocelyn MacCallum, Lady MacLerie, was not a woman to be told her place. As a matter of fact, Aidan could not remember a place or a discussion where she did not go when the need or interest rose in her. Whether matters of kith and kin or king and country, she freely offered and sometimes forced her opinions into the decisions his father considered. Telling her that it was not her place was a challenge, plain and simple, and, from the dark expression on her face, one she was not going to let pass.

      ‘Not suitable for me, Connor? Truly, did you say that?’ His mother approached, finger pointing at him. She stood only as tall as his chest and he would like to say that he did not fear her. But he did, as did his father when her eyes flashed and her finger pointed. ‘He is still my son and if he has dishonoured a married woman in seeking to fill his bed, I would have my say.’

      Aidan prepared for her stinging words and then he would speak privately to his father. It was the way they handled things between them. ‘Before you begin, let me repeat—she said no.’

      He watched as doubt and then suspicion filled her expressive eyes, the colour his sister had inherited, and then as she realised what he’d said. ‘So you did not bed her?’