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a MacLawry, I imagine we’d be friends.”
    Duncan didn’t imagine any such thing. He knew Bellamy to be high-handed and arrogant, and if not for the consequences, he might have told him so on several occasions. If there was ever a man who needed a good punch to the snout, it was Hugh Fersen. “As we’re so near to friendship,” he said aloud, “mayhap ye might tell me why ye think yer bride is hiding in one of my houses.”
    “The horse she stole returned to my stable two hours ago, without her aboard. She’s somewhere close by, and you’re somewhere close by.”
    Moment by moment Duncan found himself more impressed by Julia Prentiss. However Bellamy had managed to prey on her kindness in order to get his hands on her, she’d gotten away on her own and with enough of the earl’s pride that he’d come to a rival clan to find her. That, though, was neither here nor there. “Ye say she stole a horse from ye? That must have been quite the fright ye gave her.”
    “A simple misunderstanding, and none of your concern.” Bellamy sank down on the edge of the bed. “How old is that pretty, black-haired sister of yours? Sorcha, I believe?”
    “Didnae ye just say ye were married?”
    “I am, yes. But Orville isn’t.”
    “If Orville so much as winks at Sorcha, I’ll put his eye oot. And then I’ll put oot the other one, so he doesnae do it again.”
    The earl sent a glance over at Duncan where he still stood by the open door. “What’s become of that diplomacy of yours?” he asked, a cynical smile touching his thin lips.
    Duncan tilted his head. “Ask me more aboot my sisters and find oot.” That was where he drew the line. And if Bellamy hadn’t realized that by now, it was past time he did so.
    “That stew smells mighty fine, Lenox,” Orville commented. “I could stand a bowl of it before we go out into that storm again.”
    “A bard has to sing for his supper,” Duncan returned, “Ye tell me why yer cousin married a lass, got her to Bellamy, and then had her flee, and I might consider that worth a stew.”
    “She came here first, and then I had Father Duggan marry us,” Bellamy snapped. “She’s dim-witted and flighty, but as I said, it was arranged. I’ll have her back, and in my bed, and she won’t flee again.”
    Now that was the Bellamy with whom Duncan was better acquainted. And he decided that by now he would be feeling annoyed and put-upon. “Sounds like the two of ye’ll have a grand time together. But barking at me aboot yer own shortcomings doesnae earn ye even a radish. Yer timid bride is nae here, and ye’re beginning to stink up my cottage. Get oot. Now.”
    “And if we decide to stay?” Orville asked, stirring at the stew.
    Duncan took a single step sideways and retrieved his rifle from behind the cupboard. “I’d say that would be a mistake.”
    Bellamy narrowed his eyes. “There’s no call for violence, Lenox.”
    “I’m being cautious, Bellamy. And I’ll nae have ye in here eating my breakfast while yer wife is oot in the rain waiting fer a rescue.”
    “Miss— My wife is the one who fled. She can spend a night wet and hungry if it makes her see sense,” the earl retorted, backing toward the door. “And I’ll expect you to keep an eye out for her, and inform me immediately if you see her.”
    “Aye, I’ll inform ye, just so ye’ll have no cause to come and interrupt my sleep again,” Duncan agreed, refrained from commenting on Bellamy’s slip of the tongue.
    The two men pulled their wet coats back on. Orville yanked his soaked, drooping hat over his ears but stopped in the doorway to face Duncan again. “Aren’t ye going to ask what she looks like?”
    “I imagine if I see a strange lass fleeing on foot through the heather it would be her, but ye can tell me if ye’d like.” Duncan took hold of the door, ready to slam it the moment they crossed the threshold.
    “She has brown hair and … green eyes, I think. Or perhaps brown.” The earl, already