"I'm fine," she rushed out, terrified he could somehow read her thoughts. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"You did not hear me enter."

"How do you know?"

His mouth twisted mockingly, but he did not answer. Of course it was obvious she had not heard him enter. She'd acted like a scalded cat when she realized he was in front of her. Little surprise he asked if anything was the matter. He had not read her mind, not that he could. Even if they were true mates, mindspeak did not include being able to see into the other person's thoughts, only an ability to hear them when they directed those thoughts at you.

And she and Drustan were not true-mated regardless. She was his vengeance wife. No more.

"I…" Her voice trailed off to nothing when she noticed a bloody gash on his chest, a bruise on his arm and dirt smudges on the rest of him. She jumped to her feet, knocking his hands from her shoulders. "What happened? Was there a fight?"

Had they found Talorc? Her throat closed tight as terror clenched at her insides.

Puzzlement creased his features, as if he could not understand her reaction to such minor wounds. "I was practicing with the soldiers."

"Oh." Relief flooded her, quickly followed by concern. "I will get a damp cloth and cleanse your wounds."

"Wound. There is only one cut, but you can wash the rest of me if you feel the need." The sexy intonation in his voice sent her nerves rioting.

His teasing and concern were a huge improvement over his coldness earlier.

She scooted around him to cross the room to the fresh pitcher of water. She was clumsy getting the cloth wet, sloshing water onto the table as she poured it into the large basin. "I would be happy to wash you… if you like."

"Would you? Is it perhaps less onerous to suffer touching me than to suffer my touch?"

She gasped and swung around to face him. No expression showed on his face, but his eyes were alive with something that made her melt deep down inside.

Her gaze locked with his. "I did not mean to imply this morning that I did not enjoy your touch."

"You did not imply anything. You said it outright." Crossing his arms over the bulging muscles of his chest, he leaned back against the wall, his stance relaxed.

"But I did not mean it that way."

One brow rose in lazy query. "What other way could you mean it?"

She crossed the room to stand in front of him and wiped at a smear of dirt on one of his cheeks. Her body reacted instantly to his nearness, but she continued what she was doing. "I was worried about my friend and hurt that you did not care how worried I was, that you were more interested in finding pleasure in my body than helping me to allay my fears."

"You consider it my responsibility to allay your fears?"

"When you can… yes." She bit her lip as she dabbed at the cut on his chest. It was not deep and the blood had already dried.

"Was Sean so considerate of your feelings?"

"I rarely shared my fears with him. The situation did not arise."

"Do you mean to tell me that this paragon of husbandly virtue and you were not as close as you implied this morning?"

"No."

"So you were not true-mated?"

She finished cleaning his chest and began wiping at the dirt on his arms. "No."

"Odd. I got the impression this morning that he was an impossible ideal to live up to."

"You are a Balmoral wolf. You do not believe that of any man."

"Don't I?"

She laughed, the sound husky and constrained from the feelings rioting through her as she touched his body with what should have been pure innocence. "No, you don't. You are even more arrogant than my brother."

He uncrossed his arms and settled his hands on her waist. "Is that a complaint?"

She licked her lips, her hand stilling in its task. "No."

"I did not intend to embarrass you in front of my mother."

"I know our marriage came about because of unusual circumstances, but it is still a marriage and it is important to me that she likes me."

"She already thinks you are wonderful."

Cait was not sure that was true, but it was kind of him to say. "Thank you."

"You were hurt when I said I wanted to go back to bed this morning?"

"Yes."

"I did not dismiss your worries. I told you that Lachlan would not harm the Englishwoman."

And he had expected her to believe him without a further word on the subject. She sighed. "I needed more. I needed to see her, to assure myself that was the case."

"And when you saw her, was Emily well?"

"Yes. Very well. Lachlan is truly teaching her to swim."

"Your fears were groundless. You should have trusted me."

"How could I know that?"

"I am your husband."

"What does that signify? I do not mean anything to you… not personally. I am just a means to an end. Your laird wanted vengeance for a perceived insult and keeping me was the way he chose to get it." She tried to tug away from Drustan's hold, but he would not let her go.

"I am the one keeping you and I have as much right to vengeance on the Sinclairs as Lachlan does."

"Which makes you my captor, not my husband, and I am nothing more than your instrument of revenge as well as the laird's."

"I am your husband," Drustan grated down at her.

She sighed, knowing he spoke the truth. For better or for worse, he was the man she would be mated to for a lifetime. "Yes, you are my husband. By the laws of the Church," she couldn't resist adding on.

"By your own vow and admission last night."

She refused to acknowledge that thrust. "But I am not someone you care for, am I?"

"Do you want me to care for you?"

"What woman wouldn't? I am your wife, after all. We have many years ahead to be together."

"You did not confide in Sean, but did he care for you?"

She really did not know. If he had, he had never said so. "He was considerate of me."

"And I am not?"

"You dismissed my concerns for Emily as if they did not matter."

"I told you they were groundless. Even knowing that, I agreed to speak with Lachlan at the nooning meal when I had at first planned not to leave our quarters until tomorrow at the earliest. That is not dismissing your concerns."

"But—"

"You have no patience."

"I was afraid for Emily, can't you understand that?"

"If you trusted me, you would have no fear."

"How can I trust you?"

"I am your husband," he repeated, as if that single fact alone should set all her fears at rest.

"Because of vengeance."

"Does it matter why we married? You are now my wife. Not some woman who warms my bed when the occasion suits me. You will bear my children and be my companion into our old age."

"I want to trust you," she admitted. It would be so much easier if she could be certain her feelings and desires mattered to him, that he would act in her best interests.

"Then do."

"It is not that easy."

"It is if you let it be."

"You may end up killing my brother."

"Only if he declares war or tries to take you from me."

Which was no comfort at all. Both circumstances were all too likely. "What about my baby?"

One of Drustan's hands slid around to her stomach and settled possessively over the babe. "What about it?"

"Talorc will want it for the Sinclairs."

Drustan's face twisted with disgust. "It is wrong to separate a mother from her child."

"He won't care." She loved her brother, but Talorc could be single-minded to the point of pain at times. "Sean was Chrechte, the baby will be Chrechte."

"I will not let Talorc take the bairn."

She was equally comforted and frightened by the promise. "I don't want war."

"It is the way of our people."

"And we almost died out because of it. It is not the right way, Drustan."

"Would you have me dismiss an insult? Would you prefer I gave the babe over to your brother? Will you only be content when the Balmorals are crashed under the Sinclairs' heels?"

"No!"

Then what do you bloody want, damn it?

Cait heard the words in a shout loud enough to fell a pine tree, but Drustan's lips had not moved.

Did you just speak in my mind? she asked with her thoughts directed at him.

His green eyes widened and then narrowed. Not intentionally. What did you hear?

"I heard you yell, Then what do you bloody want, damn it?" she said out loud. "Only it was inside my head."

His hand lifted to touch her face almost reverently. "We are true-mated."

Cait shook her head, unable to believe it. They could not be true mates. Not after only one night… not when their marriage had been the result of his desire for revenge against her former clan. Cold gripped her and she shivered, feeling woozy. The room grew very dark and Drustan's face swam before her eyes.

She woke lying on their bed with Drustan leaning over her.

He smiled, but his gaze was narrowed with concern. "I do not believe I have heard of a femwolf fainting from the news her husband was her sacred mate before."

Her heart squeezed at the ancient term. "But… isn't it impossible?" It had to be impossible.

"Why? Because you are a Sinclair and I am a Balmoral? We are both Chrechte."

She'd always thought that being a true mate would include loving her mate. Did it? Her feelings where he was concerned confused her. And what about him… did Drustan feel more than lust for her? He said he wanted her trust. Was that mere male posturing, or an expression of a deeper need he had not yet put into words? Or was true-mating as basic as going into heat? A very physical thing that she had always believed was more than physical.