Page 195 of Moon Craving

She and Guaire shared a look of pure understanding before the redheaded soldier

left the room.

"I would rest," Abigail said, looking at neither her husband nor his loyal soldier.

He brushed her cheek as Emily often did to get her attention. She let her gaze rest

on him only because she knew she would not get rid of him if she did not.

"First you will drink some tea I had Una prepare from the recipes in my mother's

healing journal."

With her luck, the tea would be poisoned. "No."

"I insist."

"Una hates me." Someone had left pebbles, or something, on the stairs. If not

Osgard, then maybe the widow.

"I will not drink or eat anything she makes. And don't bother lying to me and

pretending someone else did the preparations if it is her. I can read a face as well as lips

and I'll know you aren't being honest."

"I would not lie," Talorc said, anger finally kindling in his gaze.

Abigail refused to dignify his ridiculous assertion with an answer. Of course he

would lie. Or at least withhold the truth.

When she did not break the silence between them, Talorc turned to Niall and

instructed, "Have one of the undercooks prepare the tisane."

Niall returned ten minutes later with a steaming cup. Abigail had not spoken and

had managed to ignore her husband by the simple expedient of closing her eyes and

shutting him out.

Talorc was patient with her ill humor and solicitous over that day and the next, but

Abigail kept him at a distance. The fact that she had the worst headache of her life made

maintaining her cranky attitude easy. Even Sybil's constant harping had never made

Abigail's head pound so.

Guaire came to visit Abigail twice a day, but they were never left alone, which

propriety might dictate, but she didn't like because it wasn't her virtue Talorc, Niall and

Barr were protecting. It was their secrets.

The third morning, Abigail insisted on going to the great hall to break her fast with