Free Highlanders by Tarah Scott

English knight who will kill ye if he thinks you are lying to him. Then there is the matter of the lady’s grandfather, who will feed whatever pieces of ye that are left to the dogs. Now, be a good lad and tell us what you know.”
    The man studied them for a moment. “How much?”
    Talbot took a silver piece from the pouch at his side and tossed it. The man caught it mid-slide across the counter.
    Talbot grabbed his wrist. “Where are they?”
    “Mayhap this man is no’ the man you are looking for,” he said. “Said the woman was wife and he warned us to ignore any cries from her room. Said she isna’ right in the head.”

Chapter Six
    Sword in hand, and Ross behind him with his own sword drawn, Talbot turned the knob on his brother’s door. To his surprise, it turned without resistance. He looked over his shoulder at Ross and gave a quick nod, then threw open the door. Nothing prepared Talbot for what he saw. His wife, the woman he had yet to touch, lay on the bed, arms tied above her head, and a gag tied around her mouth.
    Fear tightened his chest. She wore the same simple gray dress she had worn on her trip from the convent. The skirt lay bunched around her thighs and thick strands of hair framed her face in tangled disarray. Yet she stared at him, chin held high, eyes aflame with fury. He recalled thinking that when he bedded her he would have to tie her hands to the bedpost, and guilt unlike any he’d ever known rolled over him.
    “Sweet God in heaven,” Ross murmured.
    Talbot sheathed his sword and reached the bedside in three strides. He was aware that Ross had turned back to guard the door—Talbot guessed, to spare Lady Rhoslyn her dignity. That was a kindness he would not forget.
    He noticed a faint discoloration on her cheek that hinted at a bruise. Talbot tamped down his fury as he drew her skirt down over her legs, then pulled the knife from the hilt on his belt. No fear shone in her eyes when he inserted the point into the knot of the gag and carefully cut the fabric. He yanked the cloth from her mouth and she spat out a rag and coughed. He cut the bindings that bound her to the post. She bolted upright, coughing into her bound hands. Talbot gently grasped her wrists. She jumped, her eyes snapping up toward his face.
    “Be still,” he said, and inserted the knife blade between the cloth and her wrists, then sliced the cloth in one clean cut.
    Talbot glanced around the room, saw a pitcher and mugs on a small table against the left wall, and hurried to them. He sniffed the contents and the strong, fresh smell of ale filled his nostrils. He filled one mug, then crossed back to the bed. Rhoslyn stood, gripping the short post at the foot of the bed for support. She wavered and he grasped her elbow to steady her.
    He offered her the mug. “Drink this.”
    She reached for the mug with her free hand and he saw the violent tremble of her fingers.
    “Sit, lady,” he urged.
    She shook her head. “I will never again touch that bed.”
    The fury that had been eclipsed by the sight of her tied to the bed rushed to the surface with a violence unlike any he’d experienced. Then he saw the blood on the sheets.
    “Where is he?” Talbot demanded.
    Rhoslyn’s head jerked up and, from the corner of his eye, he saw Ross turn. She stared for a long moment, and he noted that her eyes were red with crying.
    “Where is he?” Talbot repeated.
    “I do no’ know.”
    “Ross,” he said, “see to Lady Rhoslyn.” Talbot strode toward the door.
    Ross met him halfway across the room and grabbed his arm. “Ye might consider taking care of your wife first, lad.”
    Talbot looked at him. “Did you see the sheets?”
    Ross’ gaze shifted from Talbot to the bed. Ross cursed under his breath and released Talbot.
    “’Tis no’ my blood,” Lady Rhoslyn said in a hoarse voice.
    He swung to face her. “What?”
    The fire in her eyes had rekindled. “It is your brother’s blood.”
    He followed her gaze and saw a