“She is already my wife,” he replied. They both watched Catriona MacDonnell as she sat talking to some of the other women at the gathering. Padruig glanced at his brother to see if the man was pissed-drunk and decided he must be. His marriage had been arranged to bring peace to the neighboring and warring clans, so there was no doubt that he was married to the woman. “Aye. . . nay. . . aye,” his brother stuttered. When he was in his cups, Padruig knew no one but their mother could successfully intervene and order Jamie Grant to his bed—and live to do it again. She was nowhere to be seen. Padruig caught the eye of his other younger brother who joined their small group sitting at table in the front of the hall. “Dougal, I was just telling our brother that she would make him a fine wife,” his brother slurred his words now—not a good sign at all. Slurring words usually sat one step before a brawl. “Catriona is married to Padruig,” Dougal took their brother's arm and slung it over his shoulders, guiding him to his feet and supporting him once he stood.
