Chapter 21

Wondering if the torch she held could possibly serve as a weapon, Sorcha stood still, trying to calm herself as Waldron approached them. She had slipped the whistle back under her bodice lacing, but it would be of little use to her with no one to hear if she blew it. And to do so would almost certainly infuriate him.

"Light Adela's torch, Lady Sorcha, and put yours in that holder beside you," he said. "And do it at once, lass. Don't think you can defy me."

Adela moved to Sorcha's side, holding out the unlit torch she carried. "Here, be quick," she said. "We must not anger him."

"Aye, sure," he said. "You learned that straightaway, did you not, lass?"

Keeping her thoughts to herself, Sorcha lit Adela's torch but hesitated to relinquish her own, knowing she would feel more vulnerable without it.

In a heartbeat, before she knew he had stirred a muscle, he whipped it from her grasp and raised his free hand to strike.

"Look, sir," Adela said swiftly, moving toward the glassy lake with her torch. "Do you not agree that these kists must hold the treasure you seek?"

"Stay away from them!" Lowering his hand, he turned toward her.

But Adela seemed not to hear him, for she went straight to the nearer chest, holding her torch so its light fell on the chest.

Waldron was nearly upon her, still carrying Sorcha's torch.

As Sorcha watched in astonishment, Adela put her free hand to the lid of the chest and tried to raise it. The lid did not move, but to Sorcha's shock, the chest did.

It slid away from Adela down toward the water.

Adela cried out, and Waldron leaped forward to try to stop its progress. As he did, it slid into the water.

"My apologies, cousin," Hugo said from the entryway, his sword in hand. "I know you covet all things Sinclair, but that chest does not belong to you."

Waldron spun, hurling the lit torch at Hugo as he did. Then whipping his sword from the scabbard on his back, he held it in both hands at the ready.

"By heaven, I welcome this day," he said as he leaped toward Hugo.

To Sorcha's amazement, although the torch had flown end over end, casting a shower of sparks, Hugo caught it by the handle with his left hand and shoved it into her hands as he passed her to position himself as quickly as Waldron did.

As their swords clashed together, Sorcha moved quickly to put the torch in one of the holders. Her hands were shaking, and she knew that steadier light would be safer for Hugo than light that danced about the cavern.

Adela still held her torch but stood stupefied, apparently frozen in place. Sorcha moved cautiously toward her, keeping her eyes on the men lest they leap her way. When she could reach the blazing torch, she gently took it from Adela. She could not have said why she thought that necessary, only that she did.

Adela did not resist. She seemed scarcely able to breathe, and her eyes did not shift from the combatants. Sorcha dared not speak to her lest one of them distract Hugo, but when she put her free hand on Adela's arm to draw her farther from the swordsmen, Adela jerked her arm away.

Then Waldron lunged at Hugo, his sword aimed at the center of Hugo's chest, and Sorcha's heart threatened to stop beating.

Hugo slashed upward with his sword, catching Waldron's and deflecting it.

So hard had he struck that Sorcha expected Waldron's weapon to go flying, but the battle raged on—fearsome, interminable—until Hugo stumbled.

Waldron rushed at him, but Hugo's sword flashed up again. This time, moving like a cat, he changed direction in midair. Thrusting hard, he leaped forward as Waldron leaped back a pace, forcing him back farther yet.

Then Hugo caught his cousin's sword yet again with a resounding clang. Knocking it upward as he twisted aside and away, he slashed hard at Waldron as Waldron, recovering, lunged forward again.

Sorcha thought Hugo's stroke must end the fight, but in a flash, before anyone was aware of her intent, Adela flung herself between the two men.

Waldron grabbed her arm and shoved her away, but he was not quick enough. Hugo's sword struck them both with his full strength behind it.

Waldron and Adela collapsed to the rocky floor.

Hugo moved swiftly to them, and in stunned horror, Sorcha raced to his side.

"Take care, lass," he said quietly. "There's blood everywhere."

"They are not dead," she said, ignoring his warning to kneel beside Adela. Thrusting the torch at him, she said, "Hold this!" Then, feeling for Adela's wound, trying to stanch the blood with her bare hands, she muttered, "She cannot die!"

Waldron groaned, but Adela lay terrifyingly still. A sickening amount of blood soaked through her gown and cloak from what appeared to be a deep cut.

Hugo knew that both victims of his slash were in dire straits. He did not much care about his cousin, bleeding heavily from the wound across his chest. He had meant to kill him, so fretting over his injury would be plain hypocrisy.

But it did create a dilemma for him.

He could send Sorcha back alone through the tunnel to the castle, or he could take her with him and Adela. In either case, he'd have to leave Waldron, because he did not know where his own men were. And, even if he had known, only one of the three in the glen was privy to the cavern's secrets.

"Where is Einar?" he asked Sorcha.

"Waldron shot him in the back with an arrow," she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. She had found Adela's wound and was pressing a wad of her dark cloak against it. As she smoothed strands of hair off Adela's brow, she added, "I… I had to leave him in the middle of the track. He told me to come here."

"He's a good man," Hugo said, adding gently, "We'll find him, lass. He was nowhere in sight when I came, and Waldron would not have buried him yet. So he must have gone to ground. I can take only one of them out by myself, though."

"You'll take Adela, of course."

"Aye, but although Waldron may look defenseless and near death, I dare not leave him here alone. And I cannot simply spit the man whilst he's unconscious."

"I'll watch him," she said impatiently. "Just help Adela."

"I don't like leaving you alone with him," he said. "But if you'll tear a strip off your shift, then hold this damned torch for me, I'll bind her up to slow her bleeding. We've people at Roslin who can help her, but I can do little for her here."

"How did you get here?"

"I left the men with Michael and my father at Edgelaw when we realized Waldron had got away. I feared what he'd do if he caught you, but once he found this place, I doubt he thought of anything but those chests."

"Adela pointed them out to him," Sorcha said as she ripped away as much of her cambric shift as she could and handed it to him, taking back the torch. "But you knew they were here," she added as she went to set it in a holder.

"Aye," he said, ripping Adela's clothing from the wound near her shoulder. He quickly did what he could for her, then moved to examine Waldron.

His cousin was still alive, but the wound in his chest was dreadful, his breathing rough, irregular, and congested. Hugo knew he would not last long.

Waldron's eyes flickered open and seemed to focus on Hugo, but he did not try to speak and they shut again.

Hugo glanced at Sorcha, trying to judge the limits of her strength.

"What is it?" she demanded. "Do you think I'll be afraid? I won't be."

"I know that," he said gently. "You have the heart of a lion, Skelpie, but for mercy's sake, don't try to aid him."

"I won't." She had come close again and stood watching Adela.

"You keep well away from him," he said. "He's got little strength left, but he's already proven himself well nigh indestructible, so don't go near enough to let him catch hold of you. I see you still have your whistle," he added. "Blow it if you need me. I'll not be far. I'll just shout up my lads and send Adela on her way."

She nodded, but he knew she barely heeded him, her thoughts now solely for her sister's welfare.

"We'll devise a way to get her to Roslin as quickly and comfortably as we can," he said. "My aunt and her people will do the rest. They are very skilled."

"Could you not just carry her through the tunnel?" Sorcha asked.

He glanced at Waldron to see if he was paying heed, hoping that if he was, his mind would be too addled from loss of blood to realize she did not speak of the passageway through which they had just come.

Satisfied that he was too weak to do much at all, Hugo said, "I won't be long. If one of those torches starts to sputter, there are more in that chest by the dais."

He picked up Adela as gently as he could and strode toward the passageway.

Sorcha watched as Hugo disappeared into the passage with Adela. Then, hearing a sound behind her, she turned back toward Waldron.

To her astonishment, he was struggling to sit up.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

He was sitting now. He tried to stand.

"I want to look into the water," he said weakly but as if it were a natural thing to want to do at such a time. "Come, lass, help me up."

"You're daft if you think I'm getting anywhere near you," she said. "You're an evil man, Waldron of Edgelaw, but you are not an immortal one. Lie down, save your strength, and you may yet survive this day. I'll help Sir Hugo tend your wound when he returns, but that is all I'll do for you, and I'll do it only because I believe you sacrificed yourself to save Adela."

"You're the daft one if you think that," he growled. "I did what I had to do when your fool of a sister tried to interfere, but I'll live yet to finish God's work."

"She saved your life, and you know it," Sorcha said. "She rushed between you because she feared Sir Hugo would kill you. She was watching him, not you. Still, if she lives, 'tis because of you."

"You're mad, or she is," he muttered, but his tone was sulky, like a boy talking of something that discomfited or embarrassed him.

"Neither of us is mad," she said. "Still, I don't know why she tried to save you. You probably raped her. You've certainly done all you could to ruin her. Did you know she loved Hugo? Is that why you did it?"

"Faugh, she does not love him," he said. "Anyone can see that you're the one who does, except perhaps our doltish Hugo."

"My feelings are of no concern to you or anyone else," she snapped. "And Adela does love him. But, doubtless, she fears he will not want her now."

"I did not rape her," he said. "She is as chaste as she was when I took her, not that you or others will believe that unless she submits to examination."

"She would enter a nunnery first," Sorcha said. Oddly, though, she believed him. "Why didn't you rape her?"

He snapped, "She is too old to tempt me." But he looked away as he said it.

"You're lying," she retorted. "As evil as you are, you'd ravish a hag to hear her screams or if you thought hearing them would distress others. You are no servant of God, sir! The devil is more likely to seize you when you die."

"You have a sordid imagination for one so young," he said. His voice had grown weaker, and he seemed to realize what that meant, because he stopped speaking and struggled harder to get to his feet.

"Where do you imagine you can go?" she asked, watching him. "The only way out of here is the way you came, and you cannot possibly walk so far as…"

On his feet now, holding himself upright with obvious difficulty, he staggered toward the water.

"If you mean to drown yourself," she said, "perhaps you should wait until Hugo returns and ask him if that lake is deep enough."

"The water is clear," he said. "I can see how shallow it is."

He stepped in and began wading away from the shore.

"Where are you going?"

She had forgotten the chest in the water, but she saw it then. Brassbound and the size of a sumpter basket, it had slipped some ten feet away from the lakeshore in the water. It certainly looked as if it could be a treasure chest, so although Hugo had said the treasure was not there, she watched Waldron tensely.

His attention riveted to the chest, he moved more effortlessly and with purpose. It was, she thought, as if he were not even hurt.

Hurrying after him, she barely paused as she waded into the water. It was chilly, and it soaked the boots she wore and her skirts halfway to her knees, but she did not take her eyes off him. As powerful as he was, and as immortal as he had proven himself, she could easily imagine him picking up the chest and striding off with it to disappear forever into the blackness of the huge cavern.

If that happened, Hugo would have failed to protect the treasure. The honor of the Sinclairs and the secrets of the Scottish Knights Templar would be gone.

She could not let that happen. The Templars had suffered too much to protect their Order. She would not be the one who allowed them to lose everything.

"Stop," she cried, reaching to grab his arm. "You mustn't take that!"

He jerked away with ease, kicked the chest farther from shore, then followed it. It moved with astonishing ease, and as Sorcha waded toward him and reached for his arm again, she realized why when her feet skidded on smooth, suddenly steep, sloping rock and slipped right out from under her.

Fighting for balance, she grabbed Waldron's arm again to steady herself, but he twisted with a snarl and shoved her back. Her feet continued down the smooth slope, and she fell, landing with a heavy splash.

Realizing she was in imminent danger of sliding all the way under, and that in boots and her heavy skirt, she might not be able to pull herself out, she scrabbled for any sort of handhold. Managing at last to curl her fingers around what seemed no more than a nubbin of rock, she dug in her heels.

It was enough to stop her momentum. Returning to the shore then required only care and patience. The slope was slick, but a tense few moments later, she crawled onto the dry part at the edge of the lake. She had lost Isobel's cap and the net to which it was pinned. And she was soaked from head to toe.

Waldron had disappeared. When she stood, other than a few ripples, she saw no sign of him or the brassbound chest.

The damned chest had kept sliding after he'd kicked it, and fury had engulfed him at the thought that even this small bit of the treasure might continue to elude him. So he had lunged for it and caught the nearest brass handle.

Agony from his wound seared through him as he did, and it was all he could do to wrap his fingers around that handle and hold on. His feet could gain no purchase. They shot behind him, plunging him into the water facefirst.

He had no strength left to fight for anything but the chest. Full of the stolen gold and jewels, as it surely was, it was incredibly heavy.

It continued to pull him deep below the surface, but he held on. God knew how weak he was, and God would help him. He would float both the chest and His faithful servant to the surface again.

Then he need only stand, and God would grant him the strength to carry it to shore. He would return it to the Holy Kirk as proof that he had found the long-lost Templar treasure, and as proof, too, that the damned Sinclairs had hidden it all these years. Then His Holiness would send the papal army to…

He was floating… no, sinking, now diving. Something pulled him straight down, a powerful force that held his hand with a grip of iron.

His thoughts shifted abruptly when light glimmered in the distance, but it was not the shimmering golden light of saintly haloes and the cities of Paradise that he had heard men describe. This light was fiery red. He could almost feel its heat. Perhaps the devil had caught him, just as the lass had prophesied.

When he gasped at the dreadful thought, water flooded his lungs and his wet, chilly grave returned to blackness.

Sorcha was still standing on the lakeshore, staring into the water and shivering, when Hugo returned. She was aware of his footsteps, knew it was he, but took a moment to collect her wits. Then fear for Adela flooded back and she turned.

As she did, he caught her roughly by the shoulders. "I told you to stay away from him!" he exclaimed. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"Aye, he's dead, I think. How is Adela?"

"We stopped her bleeding and Wat MacComas has taken her to Roslin. Tam Swanson is searching for Einar. Now, tell me why you think Waldron is dead."

"Because he went after the chest Adela pushed in the water when you came. It's gone, too." She frowned. "I thought you said the treasure was not in here."

"It isn't," he said. "Like the chest beside the dais, that one contained supplies and ceremonial gear like the circlet you saw Henry wearing last night."

"Well, Waldron wanted it, and he managed to get to his feet again to go after it. I thought the lake was shallow. I was afraid he would carry it into the inner chambers and disappear again."

"He could never have done that. I'd have sworn he was too weak to stand!"

"I, too," she said. "But he did stand, and I thought your honor was at stake, so I tried to stop him."

He made a sound like a growl, but she ignored it. "The chest kept sliding, and when he lunged for it, he just disappeared. He's been down there for a very long time, too, because I counted to a thousand before I heard you come in."

"Then what, exactly, accounts for your being soaked to the skin?" he asked.

"Don't use that tone to me," she retorted. "I'm already shivering from falling in, and when you speak to me like that, it puts icicles right up my spine."

"It should. I know I ought to be grateful that you showed such concern for my honor, but I told you to keep away from him. So, if my tone of voice gives you that sensation, my lamb, consider what the image in my mind of Waldron grabbing you and carrying you with him down into that watery grave does to me."

"Sakes, sir," she said, looking up at him, "you've wanted to murder me more times than I can count since we met. Would it really have upset you so to—?"

Her words ended in a shriek as he grabbed her and pulled her close enough to kiss her thoroughly, apparently not put off by the fact that she was soaking wet.

She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight.

Hugo held her close, savoring the taste of her, thinking of how easily he might have lost her. Wet as she was, he did not want to let her go. He told himself it was because she was so wet and cold. He just wanted to warm her a little.

She did not resist his kiss. Indeed, she responded admirably, but after a moment she pulled back. Her face still tilted up to his, she said solemnly, "I'm sure it is most uncharitable of me, but I am glad he's gone."

"Aye," he said.

"You meant him to come here," she said. "The entrance was open."

He nodded. "I did not mean it to happen as it did, though. Einar was going to bring you, knowing Waldron's skill at tracking, and we left the entrance ajar for him. But we thought Einar would have time to hide you, and I thought I'd be right behind Waldron."

"But Waldron was already in the woods," she said. "Another man was with him, too, because he jumped out of the bushes and tried to catch the palfrey's reins."

He smiled. "You need not tell me what happened next. That palfrey is Isabella's. My father taught it not to let men grab it like that."

"It's a fine beast," she said. "But then someone shot Einar from a tree."

"Waldron was a fine archer."

"What if he had captured me at the peel tower?"

"We knew he wasn't there," Hugo said. "A man took Adela there and returned to Edgelaw just as anyone might have expected from her letter. But Waldron must have hidden in that tree long before anyone realized he had left Edgelaw. We should go now," he added, kissing her again.

When he moved a hand down her side, thinking to rub some warmth into her, she snuggled closer, pressing against him. His body stirred then, apparently not realizing that she just sought warmth.

"Let's get you out of here," he murmured, kissing her damp curls. "I'll do my best to keep you warm, but it is likely to be a cold ride for you."

She tensed then, and he knew she had remembered Adela again.

"Look at me," he said, cupping her chin. "We have done nothing wrong, lass. Everything will work out as it should."

"How?"

"I don't know yet, but have faith. It will."

Even in her guilt at having briefly forgotten Adela's very existence, Sorcha wanted with all her heart to believe him. But Adela had not denied her love for him, and he had told Macleod he would offer for her. So Hugo could not back away now, nor, she decided sadly, could she in good conscience allow him to.

Outside, the fact that the sun still shone startled her. So much had happened that she had expected dusk if not darkness. But her mood lightened when they reached the cart track and found two men sitting against the huge beech tree, awaiting them. One leaped to his feet at their approach. The other did not, but he did raise a hand in greeting and grin at Sorcha.

"As ye see, m'lady," Einar said, "I'm still no dead yet."

"He's wounded, sir, but his jack-o'-plate saved his life," Wat MacComas said to Hugo. "He says he can ride, and I'll gladly take him up with me."

"Aye, Wat, if he says he's fit, he'll do," Hugo said cheerfully. "I'll take my lass with me."

"You should not call me your lass," Sorcha muttered to him as he settled her before him on Black Thunder.

"Have faith," he said again, adding, "and put this on." He slipped off his jack-of-plate and wrapped it around her. "It was too heavy to put on you before, but it may help keep you warm now."

Just being so close to him was warming her as always, but she did not disdain the heavy leather garment still warm with his body heat.

The ride back to Roslin seemed to take no time at all, but by the time they arrived, despite his warmth and the jack, she was shivering and her teeth chattered.

The courtyard teemed with men and horses. Michael and Sir Edward had returned, and came to meet them. Looking at Hugo, Michael raised his eyebrows.

"He's dead," Hugo said.

Michael nodded, saying, "His men surrendered not long after you left. They told us he'd gone, taking only Fin Wylie with him, but we searched Edgelaw from hoardings to dungeon to make sure he wasn't there." Eyeing Sorcha's wet clothing, he added, "You can tell us your tale later."

Nodding, Hugo dismounted and lifted her down. "I'll carry you in," he said as a lad ran up to take Black Thunder.

She did not argue. The last thing she wanted to do was walk across the courtyard in Isobel's wet kirtle and his jack-of-plate. But when he carried her past the great hall, she said, "I want to see Adela, sir. I must know she is safe."

"We'll find out soon enough," he said. "You are not going anywhere until you are warm and dry again."

On the next level, he carried her to her bedchamber, having sent a passing gillie running to find Kenna. Inside the chilly room, he put Sorcha down and said, "Turn around, and I'll undo your lacing. Have you a cloak here that you can wrap around you till Kenna gets here, or do you want to get into the bed?"

"Sakes," she exclaimed, looking over her shoulder at him. "Are you going to stay here whilst I undress?"

"I am not letting you out of my sight again until we settle things, Skelpie."

"So you're going to watch me?"

He grinned. "I'll turn my back, but that is all. Now, cloak or bed?"

"Cloak," she said, unwilling to get naked into bed with him in the room. "You will find it in yon kist by the door."

He finished unlacing her, found the cloak, and handed it to her.

"Turn around," she said firmly.

Chuckling, he obeyed her. But when Kenna came in moments later, Sorcha was not surprised that he still refused to leave.

"Rub her dry with towels," he said. "Then put her in the warmest dress you can find. And when you leave, take her cloak and dry it by the kitchen fire."

"Aye, sir," Kenna said, eyeing him warily.

Sorcha was soon warm again, and in a silk kirtle and wool surcoat, with her still-damp hair bound into a net and covered with a silk veil, she felt ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Kenna told them they would find Adela in a chamber near Isobel's, and they went together to see how she did. When they entered, Sorcha's gaze fell instantly on her sister in the high bed against the opposite wall. To her relief, Adela was awake and clearly much improved.

"Thank heaven," Sorcha exclaimed, rushing to her. "I was so afraid for you!"

"And I for you," Adela said, reaching out to grasp her hand. "He is a dangerous man, dearest, and you are too quick to stir anger."

"He will not harm anyone again," Sorcha said. "But why did you leap between them as you did?"

"Faith, I don't know," Adela replied. "I never seem to know anymore what I may say or do, or even what I may think! But I could not let Hugo kill him."

"As you see, I've brought him," Sorcha said before she could lose her resolve.

Adela smiled at Hugo, but then she looked back at Sorcha and shook her head. "I know you believe I fell in love with him, dearest, but—"

"You didn't deny it earlier," Sorcha reminded her.

"Oh, but I did, many times," Adela said.

"Not today."

"No, not today. But until I arrived here at Roslin, I did not feel safe. Indeed, I had not felt safe for…" A shadow crossed her face, and she drew a long breath before she said, "But I do not want to talk about that. All I really heard when you said that was that Hugo would stand by me. But then I learned that Ar—"

"But how can you not want to marry him?" Sorcha demanded.

Adela smiled. "Because I do not love him, or he me. Indeed, dearest, I think you must know who Hugo loves. Would you truly sacrifice that love for me?"

Sorcha's throat suddenly ached, and she turned to Hugo. He stood right behind her, his expression watchful and wary as if he were uncertain of what she might say. She bit her lip, and a tear trickled down her cheek.

When he opened his arms, she walked into them. But even as he held her, she turned to Adela. "I would have done it, you know. But what will you do? You cannot happily stay at Chalamine if Father weds Lady Clendenen."

"Ardelve is here," Adela said simply, and her smile widened.

"Do you mean he still wants you?" Sorcha asked bluntly.

"Aye, and I want him more than ever after this nightmare. Don't you see, dearest? He is all that is kind, and he dotes on me whilst requiring naught in return but my affection and my ability to run a household. He is not too old to father children, either. But more than that, he is the kindest man I have ever known."

"Sakes, I believe you really care for him!"

"I do, and I have Hugo to thank for bringing him to me."

"Nay, lass, 'twas your father who summoned him," Hugo said. "He sent a messenger last night. But 'twas Ardelve himself who came to Edinburgh, and I believe he came because he heard that your abductors had brought you here."

"He came with his grace's flotilla," Sorcha reminded him.

"Aye, but he was never strong for Donald. Rather, he was one who wanted Ranald to seize the Lordship. When I put it to Macleod, he agreed to send to Edinburgh for him. So you'll take him, my lady?" he asked Adela.

"Aye, sir, and happily," she said. "I wish you happy, too."

"I mean to be," he said, smiling tenderly at Sorcha. Then, briskly, he said, "But first, I wager, there will be all manner of fuss and ado. Michael wants to discuss all that has happened, as does my father. And likely Isabella will be planning weddings for each of us, or one for all. There is also your father, with all his superstitions to satisfy. I fear we may see no end to the business!"

Sorcha winced. Much as she wanted to marry him, the way he described the likely consequences of telling everyone else sounded daunting to say the least.

He was watching her, his mood apparently resigned. "I suppose we had better go downstairs right now and tell them to get on with it," he said.

She nodded, going with him, uncertain about facing them all but unwilling to discuss her feelings in Adela's presence or on the stairway.

At the entrance to the hall, he stopped and turned to her. "I'm hoping you do want to marry me, sweetheart, but it's occurred to me that I've not yet asked you."

"You know I do," she said, smiling.

"Then will you trust me?" His eyes twinkled. "You delight in contradicting me, but if you do so this time, we're sped."

When she nodded, he kissed her quickly, and they went to find the others.

They were in the solar, all of them. Sir Edward and the countess were playing chess. Michael and Isobel sat together near the window with tiny William Robert Sinclair in his cradle beside her, while Sidony sat on a pillow next to the cradle tickling the baby's chin. Ardelve and Macleod cast dice on a nearby table.

Hugo left the door open and stopped just inside with an arm around Sorcha.

When everyone looked up, he said, "I've come to tell you that, the lady Sorcha having agreed, we hereby declare ourselves married."

Clamor broke out but stilled at once when he raised a hand to silence it.

Then he said, "We are leaving now for Hawthornden, and we ask you to grant us three days alone there before you begin your bride visits."

Isobel said, "But you'll need clothes, Sorcha. Tell Kenna to—"

"Sakes, she won't need any for at least three days," Hugo said. "Someone can bring them then." And with that, he whisked the astonished, laughing Sorcha out of the solar and shut the door on the uproar.

"How could you do that?" she demanded. "Marriage by declaration is for times when no priest or chaplain is at hand, for emergencies!"

"Aye," Hugo said, pulling her into his arms. "And if ever there was an emergency, Skelpie, this is it."