She buried her face against Duncan's shoulder as he shouted more orders to his men, her heart thundering that Ronan and her clansmen—and Niall too, was he out there?—were the cause of the uproar. How had they found her? Jesu, Mary, and Joseph, if Ronan's aim hadn't been so true and so timely, would she now even live or breathe? "Montfort, take her inside!" Maire felt Duncan's arms tighten fiercely around her for only the briefest moment, and then she was given over to the older knight, whose face was grim in the torchlight. "O'Melaghlins?" Duncan didn't answer, his gaze so intent upon Maire's face that she wondered then if he might have guessed the truth. Somehow she made herself speak in hopes to divert him, her voice still barely above a whisper. "My clansmen, Duncan. Do you think they heard from someone in Dublin—" "I care not. No one will take you from me. No one." Duncan waved Reginald Montfort away before Maire could utter another word, yet she doubted she could have spoken for how tight her throat had grown.
