THE PERFECT TEN (Boxed Set)

didn’t come close to circumnavigating his right, heavily-muscled bicep as she levered him upright. Once vertical, Duncan immediately blanched and wavered. Angus walked in just as she caught Duncan’s lolling head against her chest.
    “My Lady!” Angus strode forward and took Duncan’s weight from her arms. “Ack, man, ye need to rest awhile longer.”
    “Nay.” Duncan shook his head. “How can I stand if I canna garner the strength to sit? The dizziness will pass in a wee bit.”
    When Angus gave Beth one of those can’t you control him looks that strangers give parents when their toddlers throw fits in supermarkets, she held up her hands. “Angus, according to What The Goodwife Taught Her Daughter I’m to acquiesce to his every wish with a smile on my face, so don’t start with me.” She placed a cool, wet cloth on her husband’s forehead. “Take slow deep breaths, hon. Are you still dizzy?”
    “A wee bit.”
    Angus steadied Duncan before asking her, “What means hon ?”
    Beth felt a blush race from her chest to her hair roots. “It...means ‘honey.’ It’s a casual term like ‘you there’, nothing more.”
    To her relief Angus only raised a thick, auburn eyebrow and made a thick humphing sound, but said no more.
    “Wife, I need speak with Angus. Could ye return in an hour’s time, lass? We can finish the tale then.”
    She nodded, glad for the excuse to escape. Later, she would have ample time to finish her tale as he called it. The sooner he understood her plight, the sooner they could find a way out for her.
    Soon she she’d be back to her ghost, coffee and make-up. Pondering why the thought should cause a weird sinking feeling in her stomach, she closed the door.
    “Ye should not be sitting up, friend.”
    Duncan shook his head. “I must.” He looked at the closed door. “What do you know of Lady Beth?”
    Angus grinned. “She may be plain and too wee for yer robust tastes, but she does have a warrior’s heart. Ye’d be dead now, if not for her wee hands. My shock was extreme when she plunged them into scalding water—-not once but many times—-to keep the bad humors at bay.”
    “Ye speak of witchcraft?” The notion of his bride practicing the evil craft nearly unseated him.
    “Nay. She spoke of cleanliness and Godliness.” Angus shrugged. “I understood naught of these evil humors—- germs as she named them—but Rachael and Isaac knew them well. Her way—-of absolute cleanliness—-’tis, apparently, also in Isaac’s bible. Knowing him to be Godly in his own odd way and to be yer trusted friend, I did not interfere with her ritual.” He grinned as he wiped the sweat from Duncan’s brow. “In truth I had nay choice. Ye were closing fast on death, so I gave her sway.” 
    Duncan nodded. “Since I still draw breath, I cannot fault yer logic, Angus.” It did not sit well hearing he owed his life to Beth while still questioning whether she was or was not sane...or whether she was or was not the woman he’d contracted to marry. He had to get to the bottom of the quandary soon.
    “Angus, ye need not be standing here bracing me like a buttress. Help me to that chair.”
    Instead of helping him stand, Angus pulled the chair to the side of the bed and slid his arms under Duncan’s legs.
    When Duncan started to protest, Angus grumbled, “I’ll not be the cause of ye falling on yer daft head. But should ye be so stupid as to stand, now I’ll not have to drag yer blasted overgrown self so far to the bed.”
    Settled into the high-backed chair, his good shoulder supporting his back, Duncan mumbled, “Thank ye.”
    “Ye’re most welcome.”
    “Has the Bruce moved on our kine or any of the outlying crofts?” Since Duncan had killed seven of John’s men, it wouldn’t have surprised him had John set fire to all their outlying homes.
    “Nay. All is quiet, but ‘tis only a matter of time before he seeks revenge.”
    Duncan nodded. The Bruce wouldn’t be alone in seeking retribution. He, Duncan the Black, still had a serious score to settle.
    “Have ye discovered who the two dead women were in the carriage with my lady?” Not knowing but assuming the best, he’d ordered them buried in consecrated ground.
    Angus shook his head as he started to clean his nails with his dirk. “‘Tis unlikely their Mother Superior has received yer missive yet.”
    Duncan had assumed the women accompanying Beth had come from the French nunnery with her, which brought another