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could be killed for treachery, but at the very least she would be banished. And her people could not stand the cost of losing her.
    Both Donegals gave her varying looks of speculation. Barr’s bordered on confident assurance. Verica’s was tinged with surprise, but she didn’t ask the question shimmering between them.
    Instead, she indicated a room across the landing. “Let’s get her lying down.”
    Barr started moving, but he didn’t stop at the room his clanswoman had pointed to. He went to the next door and shoved it open.
    “You’re claiming her?” Verica asked, managing to sound completely scandalized this time.
    Why did people keep asking him that? And he didn’t bother to answer on this occasion, either. And really. Did Verica need to make it sound like Barr could do far better? Sabrine would make a strong mate for any man, even the big laird. If she planned to ever take a mate. Which she didn’t, and especially not a wolf shifter.
    Instead of answering for him, like she had with Muin, Sabrine pinched Barr. Good and hard. He could give assurances himself this time.
    He jolted and then stared down at her. “What was that for?”
    “Answer your clanswoman. Tell her you’re not claiming me.” Sabrine looked at the other woman. “He said he’d watch over me tonight, naturally he’d think to do it here. It’s not necessary, I’m sure.”
    “Are you a healer then?” he asked.
    An unexpected twinge of old pain pierced her heart. “No.” Had her parents lived, she would have been. Her mother had been a healer, but their deaths led Sabrine to the path of a warrior.
    “Verica is and she’s decent. She says you need watching, you’ll be watched.”
    “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you didn’t answer her as I requested.”
    “Oh, was that a request? Sounded like an order to me.”
    “Perhaps I could have worded my request more tactfully.”
    “You could have refrained from pinching me.”
    “No, really, I couldn’t.”

Chapter 3

    ��Y ou’re awfully mouthy for such a fragile little thing.”
    “Compared to you, a mother bear is a wee thing.” She didn’t deny the fragile argument because she needed him to see her as just that. Weak and not a threat to be watched while she searched the keep and surrounding huts if need be for the stolen Clach Gealach Gra .
    If only he knew the truth about her.
    Verica laughed aloud. “You two are better than the old men over the checkers table.”
    Instead of getting angry at the woman’s mockery as Sabrine expected, Barr shook his head as he laid Sabrine on his bed. “With wisdom like those two impart, I’m surprised this clan has lasted at all.”
    “You’re not the only one.” But Verica’s voice lacked the humor Barr’s had had; a dark tone Sabrine had to wonder at swam just below the surface of the other woman’s words.
    “You’ll not believe what Muin did today and told ’twas because his grandfather taught him.”
    “What’s that?”
    “He shot at a raven in the middle of our hunt for wild boar.”
    “Was the fact he shot at the bird what you find so appalling, or that he did it during the hunt?” Verica asked.
    “Both. We’re Chrechte. We respect life; we do not kill for sport.”
    Sabrine could not believe what she was hearing.
    “What did Muin say to that?” Verica demanded.
    “Nothing. What was there to say?” Barr’s unconscious arrogant assurance the other man had to agree with him was as alluring as it was ridiculous.
    Sabrine found it difficult to stay focused on the conversation with Barr’s continued nakedness, though Verica seemed utterly unaffected.
    Still, Barr’s apparent naïveté astounded her. “You do not truly believe all of the Faol feel the same?”
    “Any under my authority had better.”
    Verica flipped her uniquely colored hair back over her shoulder. “What did Muin say his reason was for shooting at the bird?”
    “He said his grandfather told him ravens were unlucky.” Outrage colored