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When she reached the first-floor landing, the door to the lord’s bedchamber loomed ahead, a gaping maw waiting to devour her. With the tray rattling in her trembling hands, Davina inhaled a slow breath to steady herself. Beyond the door, Cailin’s cries pierced the heavy wooden barrier, each wail a fist clenching her pounding heart.

Squaring her shoulders, Davina pushed the door open with care, masking her terror beneath a veneer of control. Ian sat at the table by the hearth, bouncing Cailin on his knee, his grin curling like a serpent’s coil.

“Ah, there she is,” he drawled, his voice thick with false pleasantries.

Davina’s jaw tightened as she advanced into the room, the muscles in her face twitching with the effort to remain composed.

Her gaze flicked to Cailin, cheeks blotched red with tears, her tiny arms reaching desperately for her mother as Davina set thetray down. Ian held fast to the infant, bouncing her in a grotesque parody of affection.

Cailin’s cries swelled, frantic and hoarse. Ian sighed with exaggerated patience, patting her back as if scolding a restless pup. “Oh, come now, wee Cailin. We were just beginning to get along.”

Davina’s fists clenched at her sides, her nails biting into her palms as she swallowed the scream rising in her throat and steadied her anger before she trusted herself to speak. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Would you like butter on your bread?”

Ian smirked, reclining in his chair as though he were lord of the realm. “Aye, I’d like that very much. Thank you.”

Her hands betrayed her, trembling as she spread the butter across the bread. Ian’s gaze glinted with predatory amusement.

“You’re shaking,” he noted with a sneer. “You must be overjoyed to have me home.”

Davina remained silent, extending the bread toward him. He accepted it, tearing a bite free with his teeth, chewing slowly as though savoring not the food, but her torment.

“Feed me some fruit, wife,” he commanded, lifting his chin imperiously.

Suppressing her revulsion, Davina set the bread aside and picked up a piece of dried apple, then held it to his lips. He took it with infuriating leisure, never once breaking eye contact.

“Tammus told me you married someone else,” Ian said around his food.

Her throat tightened like a noose drawing taut. She forced her gaze to the tray, taking a piece of cheese with shaking hands that betrayed the storm raging within her. “Tammus insisted I remarry,” she answered, hating the way her voice quivered. “I had no say in the matter.” She offered him the bite-size piece ofcheese.

Ian’s grin stretched wider, a predator savoring the moment before the kill. “And did you consummate the marriage?”

The question struck her like a lash across the spine, but she did not flinch. Her hand quivered, though, the cheese suspended before his mouth. He bit it from her fingers, chewing slowly, eyes never leaving hers.

Davina cleared her throat. “Would you like me to fetch Myrna to take the baby? It’s just the two of us now. There’s no need to involve Cailin.”

Ian’s expression darkened like storm clouds swallowing the sun. “Nay.”

“Please,” she pressed, gentle but urgent, her gaze flicking to her daughter, still squirming miserably in Ian’s grip. “She’s just a babe. She shouldn’t have to hear this.”

The hilt of Ian’s dagger crashed down upon the table, making Davina jolt. Cailin shrieked, her tiny wail piercing Davina’s ears.

“Did you fuck him!” Ian roared, spittle flying from his lips.

Davina’s heart pounded in her chest. Her mind raced. Lie or truth? Which would enrage him less? She forced herself to answer. “I had to, Ian,” she confessed through gritted teeth. “Tammus wouldn’t leave until the deed was done.”

The moment the admission passed her lips, she knew her mistake.

Ian’s eyes narrowed to slits, his grip on Cailin tightening until she squealed. “And just how did Tammus know?” he snarled. “Did he watch you fuck your new husband?”

“Of course not,” Davina snapped before she could stop herself, her temper slipping free of its leash.

“Then how the hell did he know!” Ian bellowed, rage crackling off him in waves.

A knock at the still-open door fractured the moment. Myrna stepped in, dipping a quick curtsy, her voice trembling but clear. “Beggin’ yer pardon, milord. Shall I take the wee one so you can have some privacy?”

Cailin twisted in Ian’s arms, arching away from him, desperate to escape. Davina seized the moment, surging forward to gather her daughter to her chest before she fell to the floor. Relief and tears blurred her vision as she cradled Cailin close, murmuring a silent, fervent prayer of thanks.

“Aye, take the brat out of my sight,” Ian sneered, waving her off with a bored flick of his hand. But as soon as Davina turned, Ian grabbed her arm tight, and she winced as his fingers dug into her flesh. “Youstay here. Myrna, come here and get the fucking baby.”