Tall and barrel-chested, with long red hair and a full beard, the Scot sat astride his horse, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. At least ten years Renaud's senior, he looked every bit the hot-blooded Scottish laird that he was.How Renaud hated him.Duncan is a gentleman and he will have me still. He loves me— and I love him. Aleysia's words still burned in his ears. Did she truly love this man who was old enough to be her father? A man who would no doubt treat her like a child rather than an equal?Their fevered lovemaking made him think not. Of course love and desire were two different things entirely. His own mother had sworn love and loyalty to his father, then left him for another. Women were devious creatures, not to be trusted."My lord, you know he will not leave Braemere without his woman."Renaud glanced at Galeran, who rode beside him, along with his most trusted men-at-arms, out of the bailey, toward the field where the Scot and his army awaited. "Aleysia is not his woman, and he cannot have her."Galeran's lips quirked.
