Free The Saint by Monica Mccarty

questions, she would have tried to avoid them by accepting Bella’s offer to join the women with their children in Lady Elyne’s chamber—apparently her husband, Erik MacSorley, had gone as well—but then she caught sight of her brother’s face.
    She rushed forward to intercept them before they sat at one of the trestle tables that had been set out for the meal. Her hand went to Kenneth’s bruised and battered cheek. “What happened?”
    It was obvious that he’d been struck—repeatedly. He had an enormous bruise on the left side of his mouth and jaw, a split lip, a bruised and swollen left eye, and a large cut on his cheek.
    He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “It’s nothing.”
    “You were fighting.” It wasn’t unusual for her quick-tempered brother. He was quick to take offense and quicker to exact retribution.
    “Aye, he was,” her eldest brother replied. Unlike she and Kenneth, Will and she had never been close. He’d always seemed a stranger to her. At ten years her senior, he was being fostered with the Earl of Ross when she was born. By the time he’d returned to Dunrobin, he was more concerned with improving his battle skills and learning the duties that would be his as earl than troubling himself with a ten-year-old sister who clearly baffled him. He was not unkind or uncaring, but simply preoccupied. Stern and more than a little intimidating, he’d assumed the duties of the earldom upon her father’s death with the ease of a man who’d been trained for the role since birth. “It seems that young MacKay hasn’t learned any discipline in the past few years. But what can you expect from a cur—young or old.”
    Helen gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “Magnus did this to you?”
    Will’s gaze sharpened; he didn’t like being reminded of her “ill-conceived” acquaintance with their enemy.
    “Aye,” Donald said. “He attacked your brother without cause.”
    That didn’t sound like Magnus. The frown Kenneth sent in Donald’s direction seemed to suggest there might be something more to the story. She hoped that something didn’t concern her. She knew that Donald, too, hated Magnus—even more so since his defeat that fateful day.
    “Being forced to abide the usurper is bad enough, but MacKays? Your new husband keeps unfortunate company, my lady,” Donald added.
    Will shushed him harshly under his breath, looking around as though the walls might have ears, though they stood to the side of the Hall a good distance from anyone. “Have care, Munro. I like it little more than you do, but ‘the usurper’ is now our king.”
    Donald had been vocal in his objections to submitting to Bruce, and his continued disgruntlement was plain in his face. But he clenched his jaw and nodded. Donald’s loyaltyto their father had passed to his son. As had his sword. He’d retained his position as the
An Gille-coise
, the chief’s personal henchman, for her brother.
    “Where is your new husband?” Kenneth said, scanning the room behind her. “I should have thought to find him here with you.”
    There was something pointed in his question that caused her to flush. Recalling Christina’s warning, she said, “He was called away for a few days.”
    “Called away?” Will repeated, voicing the surprise evident on all the men’s faces. “What do you mean ‘called away’?”
    She gave a careless shrug. “The king had need of him.”
    “The day after his wedding?” Kenneth didn’t hide his incredulity.
    She forced a smile to her face. “He will be back soon.”
    “Where did he go?” Will demanded.
    “He did not say, and I did not ask,” she answered truthfully, neglecting to mention that he’d never given her the opportunity.
    Donald was clearly outraged on her behalf. He’d always been protective of her. “I wonder what could be so important to take a groom from his bed and send a dozen men sailing out in a
birlinn
in the middle of the night?” he asked.
    How would he know that? Her