Saving Grace

Chapter 9

Gabriel knew, before he'd even opened his eyes the following morning, that his wife wasn't in bed with him.

Hell, it was just a little past dawn, and he as laird and husband should have been the first to leave the bed. His irritation softened, however, with the thought that she was probably downstairs waiting for him in the great hall. She had looked worried about Dumfries the night before, he remembered, and she was no doubt still fretting over the animal.

The Maclaurin plaid was draped over a chair. Johanna had gotten her days mixed up, for she had obviously dressed in the MacBain colors two days in a row. The Maclaurins were sure to kick up a fuss, and damn it all, he didn't have time for such puny, inconsequential matters.

Both Keith and Calum were already waiting for him in the hall. They bowed to their laird when he appeared at the entrance.

"Where's my wife?"

Calum and Keith exchanged a worried look, then Calum stepped forward to answer. "We thought she was above the stairs with you, MacBain."

"She isn't."

"Then where is she?" Calum asked.

Gabriel glared at the soldier. " 'Twas the question I just put to you," he snapped.

Dumfries lifted his head at the sound of his master's voice. His tail thumped against the rushes. Gabriel went over to the hound, bent down on one knee, and pounded the side of the dog's neck.

"Do I have to carry you outside, Dumfries?"

"Lady Johanna has already taken your pet outside, Laird."

Leila called out the news from the entrance. She hurried down the steps, smiled at Calum and Keith, and then turned to her laird. "She gave him food and water, too. She declared your pet's feeling much better today."

"How would she know so soon he's better?" Keith asked.

Leila smiled. "I asked her the very same question, and she told me his growl is a little stronger today. That was how she knew he had improved."

"Where is she?" Gabriel demanded.

"She went riding," Leila answered. "She declared it was too fine a day to stay inside."

"My wife went riding alone?"

Gabriel didn't wait for an answer. He muttered a dark blasphemy as he left the hall. Keith and Calum started after him.

"I take full responsibility should anything happen to our mistress," Keith announced. "I should have gotten here sooner. Today's my day to protect her," he added as explanation. "Damn but I wish she'd stay where she's put."

"But she was wearing the MacBain plaid," Leila called out.

"She shouldn't be," Keith said.

"But she is, sir."

Calum scratched his jaw. "She's gotten her days mixed up," he decided aloud. He winked at Leila when he passed her, then increased his stride to catch up with Keith.

Gabriel controlled his worry by getting angry. He'd been most specific with his wife during the past several weeks. She was to rest, damn it. Riding out alone in the hills infested with wolves wasn't his idea of a rest. Did he have to keep her under lock and key? By God, he'd ask her that question just as soon as he found her.

Sean, the stable master, spotted his laird coming his way and immediately prepared his stallion for the day's hunt. He was just leading the black beauty out when Gabriel reached him. He snapped the reins out of Sean's hands, grunted a response to the stable master's greeting, and gained his stallion's back in one fluid motion. The horse was in a full gallop by the time he'd crossed the meadow. Auggie heard the pounding of hooves and lifted his head. He was down on his knees measuring the distance from one hole he'd just dug to the next. He hurried to stand up and bowed when his laird stopped his mount a scant foot away.

"Good day to you, Laird MacBain."

"Good day to you, Auggie," Gabriel responded. He scanned the meadow, then turned his gaze back to the old warrior. "Have you seen my wife?"

"I'm seeing her now, MacBain." Auggie motioned with his hand. Gabriel turned in his saddle and looked up. He spotted Johanna immediately. She was on the north ridge, seated atop her mount. "What the hell is she doing?" he muttered to himself. "Contemplating her circumstances," Auggie answered. "What in God's name does that mean?"

"I wouldn't be knowing, MacBain. I'm just repeating her words to me. She's been up there over an hour. I'd wager she's worked it all out in her mind by now."

Gabriel nodded. He goaded his mount into a full run. "It's a fine day to ride," Auggie shouted.

"It's a finer day to stay inside," Gabriel muttered in reply.

Johanna was just about to ride back down to the meadow when she noticed her husband coming up the ridge. She waved in greeting, then folded her hands together on top of the reins and waited for him to come to her.

She was more than ready to take him on, she decided. She took a deep breath in anticipation. It was time for her to put her new plan into action. She was a little nervous, but that was to be expected. She wasn't used to taking charge. That wasn't going to stop her though. By God, she was responsible for her destiny, she thought to herself. She needed to explain that fact to her husband.

Johanna had awakened a full hour before dawn and had spent the time thinking about all the changes she wanted to make. Most involved her own behavior, but there were also a few changes she planned to help her husband make.

Gabriel's pet had actually started her thinking. Johanna had learned something very revealing when she'd taken care of the dog's injury. First came the observation that his growl was all bluster, a sign of affection really. Second came the realization she didn't need to fear the beast. A firm pat and a kind word had won her Dumfries's loyalty. This morning, when she'd fed the wolfhound, he'd growled with affection while he licked her hand.

Not unlike his master.

Her husband's scowls no longer worried her. Johanna had to remind herself of that fact when he reached her side.

"You were ordered to rest," he snapped, his voice hard with anger.

She ignored his hostile greeting. "Good morning, husband. Did you sleep well?"

Gabriel was so close to her, his right leg pressed against her left thigh. Johanna couldn't suffer his frown long and turned her gaze to her lap. She didn't want his glare to bother her concentration. She had quite a bit to say to her husband, and it was important she remembered every one of her thoughts.

He noticed his wife had her bow and arrows in a leather carrier strapped to her back. Bringing the weapon along showed good sense, he decided, providing she was accurate in the event of an attack. Practicing with a target pinned to a tree was one thing, but the real proof in her ability would be shown on a moving target… such as a hungry wolf or an angered, charging boar. Those thoughts led to the reminder of the dangers lurking in the hills beyond. His scowl immediately intensified.

"You blatantly disregarded my instructions, Johanna. You are not allowed…"

She leaned to the side of her saddle, reached up, and gently stroked the side of his neck with her fingertips. The caress had been butterfly light, and over before he even had time to react, but it still managed to break his concentration.

Her touch stunned him. Johanna sat back, folded her hands together, and smiled up at him.

He had to shake his head to clear his thoughts. Then he started over again.

"You have no idea of the dangers…"

She did it again. Damned if she didn't deliberately break his concentration by stroking the side of his neck. He grabbed hold of her hand before she could pull away.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Patting you."

He started to say something, then changed his mind. He stared at her a long minute, trying to understand what had come over her.

"Why?" he finally demanded, his expression wary.

"I wanted to show you affection, m'lord. Does my touch displease you?"

"No," he growled.

He grabbed hold of her chin with his hand and leaned down. His mouth covered hers in a long, hard kiss.

She melted against his side, put her arms around his neck, and clung to him as the kiss deepened.

Johanna didn't know how it happened; but when her husband finally pulled back, she was seated on his lap.

He held her close. She collapsed against his chest, let out a little sigh, and smiled with satisfaction.

She wanted to laugh. Dear God, it really worked. She had just proven a most important theory. Gabriel and his hound were actually very much alike. Her husband liked to bluster as much as his pet did.

"It is permitted for a wife to show her husband affection."

He was giving her his approval, she supposed. And Lord, did he sound arrogant. She leaned away from him so she could look up at him.

"Is it permitted for a husband to take his wife riding?"

"Of course. A husband can do anything he wishes to do."

So can a wife, she thought to herself. "Why are you always so serious, m'lord? 'Tis the truth you don't smile enough to suit me."

"I'm a warrior, Johanna."

From the look on his face she assumed he believed he'd given her a full and logical explanation.

He lifted her back on her mount. "You rarely smile," he remarked. "Why is that?"

"I'm a warrior's wife, m'lord."

She smiled after giving him her tart answer. He couldn't help but grin.

"You're very handsome when you smile, m'lord."

"But you dislike handsome men, remember?"

"I remember. I was trying to compliment you, sir."

"Why?"

She didn't answer him. "What were you doing up here all by yourself?"

She answered his question with one of her own. "Could you spare an hour and ride with me? I'm on a hunt to find a cave Auggie told me about. There's a treasure inside."

"And what is this treasure?"

She shook her head. "You'll have to help me find the cave first. Then I'll tell you what's inside. I know how busy you are, but surely one hour won't matter, will it?"

He frowned while he considered her request. He did have important duties set aside for today and they should come first, of course. Riding for sheer pleasure didn't make any sense at all to him. It wasn't… productive.

Yet the idea of spending a few minutes, and that was surely all he could spare, with his beautiful wife did appeal to him.

"You may lead the way, Johanna. I'll follow."

"Thank you, m'lord."

She looked overwhelmed with gratitude. His gentle little wife derived such joy from little pleasures. Gabriel suddenly felt like an ogre because he had taken time to consider her request.

Johanna wasn't about to give him time to change his mind. She wanted to get him away from his holding… and his responsibilities so that she could have a long talk in private with him. She grabbed the reins and goaded her mount into a full run down the hill.

She was a skilled rider. The realization surprised him. She seemed too delicate for any outdoor skills.

Gabriel was content to stay behind her until they reached the forest. Then he took over the lead.

They criss-crossed back and forth while they looked for the entrance to the cave. After an hour's search, Johanna was ready to give up. "Next time we must ask Auggie to ride with us. He'll point the way."

They broke through the trees and stopped in a narrow clearing next to the stream overlooking the valley.

"Are you ready to go back?" Gabriel asked.

"I wanted to talk to you first, m'lord, and if I weren't so hungry, I would beg you to stay here the rest of the day. It's so lovely. Do you notice how green and lush your valley is?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief when she added, "And to think you have such a mild climate all year long. I count myself fortunate each and every day. Aye, I do."

Gabriel found her enthusiasm refreshing. He'd never seen her in such a lighthearted mood before. It warmed his heart. God's truth, he was reluctant to leave, too.

"I can take care of satisfying your hunger, wife."

She turned to look at him. "Will you hunt for food?"

"Nay, I carry everything we'll need."

Gabriel dismounted, then assisted her to the ground. "You're too thin, Johanna. You barely weigh two stones."

She ignored his criticism. "Where is this food you boast of, husband? Will it appear like manna from the sky, do you suppose?"

He shook his head. She watched as he lifted the flap of his saddle and removed a flat metal plate. Behind the saddle was a bag tied with a string.

He motioned her to walk over to the clearing. He tied the reins of both their mounts to one of the branches before he joined her.

"Take off your plaid, Johanna. We'll use it for a blanket. Spread it on the ground near the pines."

"It probably isn't decent."

The sassy tone of her voice told him she didn't mind if she was decent or not. Her lighthearted mood puzzled him and made him determined to find out what had caused this change. Johanna was usually very reserved.

A few minutes later, she was seated on her plaid watching Gabriel prepare their food. He'd started a fire with peat and twigs, then placed the metal plate in the center of the flames. He then sprinkled oatmeal from the pouch into one cupped hand, added water he'd gathered from the stream, and quickly formed a thick oat cake. He dropped the mixture on the plate, and while it cooked, he made another.

The oatmeal cake tasted like baked sticks mixed with dust to Johanna, but because her husband had taken the time and trouble to prepare the food, she didn't let him know how horrid it tasted.

Gabriel thought the expression on her face while she nibbled on the oatmeal was comical. She made several trips to the stream for drinks of water to wash the food down, and she could only eat half the cake before she declared she was quite full.

"It was thoughtful of you to bring the food along," she remarked.

"Every warrior always carries his food on his back, Johanna." He sat down beside her, leaned back against the tree trunk, and added, "We take everything we need for a hunt or a war. Highlanders are self-sufficient. We don't have need for bread or wine or carts loaded down with pots and caldrons like the pampered English soldiers. Our plaids are our tents or our blankets, and what other food we want, we take from the land."

"Or steal from the other clans?"

"Yes."

"It's wrong to take without permission."

"It's our way," he explained once again.

"Do the other clans steal from you?"

"We don't have anything they would want."

"Do they all steal from each other?"

"Of course."

"It's most barbaric," she decided aloud. "Don't any of the lairds ever barter for what they need?"

"Some do," Gabriel answered. "Twice a year council meetings are held near the Moray Firth. Clans not feuding attend. I've heard there's a fair amount of bartering done then."

"You've heard? Then you've never attended any of these meetings?"

"No."

She waited for further explanation. He remained silent. "Haven't you been invited?"

She sounded incensed over the possible insult. "Every laird is invited, wife."

"Then why in heaven's name haven't you attended?"

"I haven't had the time or the inclination. Besides, as I've already explained to you several times now, we don't have anything to barter."

"But if you did?" she asked. "Would you attend the council meeting?"

He shrugged his answer.

She let out a sigh. "What does Father MacKechnie have to say about stealing?"

His wife seemed obsessed with her worry about the priest's opinion. "He doesn't criticize us if that's what you're thinking. He knows it would be pointless to argue. Survival conies before paltry concerns such as venial sins."

She was quite astonished by her husband's attitude. Damned envious, too. It would be nice not to worry about sinning all the time.

"Father MacKechnie is an unusual priest."

"Why do you say that?"

"He's very kind. That makes him unusual."

Gabriel frowned over her comment. "What are the priests in England like?"

"Cruel." She blurted out her belief and immediately felt guilty because she'd lumped all the men of God in with the few mean-hearted ones she'd known. "Some are probably kind-hearted," she added with a nod. "I'm certain some are very good men who don't believe women come last in God's love."

"Women are what?"

"Last in God's love," she explained. She straightened up but kept her head bowed. "You might as well know I'm not in good standing with the church, Gabriel."

She acted as though she was giving him a dark confession. "And why is that, Johanna?"

"I'm a rebel," she whispered.

He smiled. She thought he might think she was jesting. "I am a rebel," she said again. "I don't believe everything the church teaches."

"Such as?" he asked.

"I don't believe God loves women less than he loves oxen." Gabriel had never heard of anything so preposterous.

"Who told you…"

She interrupted him. "Bishop Hallwick liked to list God's hierarchy as a reminder to me of my insignificance. He said that unless I learned true humility and submissiveness, I would never sleep with the angels."

"This bishop was your confessor?"

"For a time," she answered. "Because of Raulf's important position, the bishop was his advisor and his confessor. He dictated many penances."

Gabriel could all but taste her fear. He leaned forward and put his hand on her shoulder. She flinched in reaction.

"Explain these penances," he commanded.

She shook her head. She was sorry she'd brought up the topic. "When will Alex come home?"

He knew she was deliberately changing the subject. He decided to let her have her way. His wife was full of strange worries; and from the way she was gripping her hands together now, he assumed Bishop Hallwick was at the top of her list of concerns.

"Alex will come home when the wall is finished," he answered. "You asked me the very same question yesterday. Did you forget my answer?"

"I'll probably ask you again tomorrow."

"Why?"

"A son should live with his father. Is he content to wait? Is he happy with his mother's family? Do you trust the people looking out for his welfare? A child as young as Alex needs his father's attention," she ended.

She was actually insulting him by asking such questions. Did she believe he would leave his son in the hands of infidels?

Gabriel didn't believe she was trying to be insolent. The worried look on her face showed how concerned she was about the boy.

"Alex would tell me if he was unhappy or unfairly treated."

She shook her head vehemently. "Nay, he might not tell you. He might be suffering in silence."

"And why would he suffer in silence?"

"Because he would be ashamed, of course. He'd believe he'd done something wrong to merit such cruel treatment. Bring him home, Gabriel. He belongs with us."

Gabriel hauled her onto his lap and nudged her chin up. He stared down at her a long minute, trying to understand what was going on inside her mind.

"I'll bring him home for a visitation."

"When?"

"Next week," he promised. "I'll ask him then if he's unhappy or mistreated."

His hand moved to cover her mouth so she wouldn't interrupt him. "And," he added in a firmer voice when she dared to shake her head, "he'll tell me the truth. Now I would like for you to answer a question for me, Johanna."

He pulled his hand away, waited for her nod, and then asked, "How long did you suffer in silence?"

"You misunderstand," she said. "I had a wonderful childhood. My parents were gentle, loving people. Father died three years ago. I still miss him something fierce."

"And your mother?"

"She's all alone now. Do you know, I never would have agreed to come here if it weren't for Nicholas's promise to look out for her. He's a devoted son."

"You probably saw your parents often while you were married to the baron, but the distance from this holding to your mother's home is simply too great to allow more than one visitation a year, wife."

"You would let me go to my mother?" She looked astonished.

"I would take you," he answered. "But only once a year. You can't expect to see your family as often as you did when you were married to the Englishman."

"But I never saw my mother or father then."

It was his turn to look astonished. "Didn't your husband allow visitations?"

She shook her head. "I didn't want to see them… not then. Shouldn't we go back now? It's getting late, and I've kept you from your important duties long enough."

He frowned with irritation. Johanna wasn't making any sense at all to him. She'd looked elated when he told her she could return to her mother's home once a year, yet contradicted herself with the mention that she'd chosen not to see her relatives during the years she'd been married to the baron.

Gabriel didn't like half answers. He was going to demand she give him a full explanation now.

"Johanna," he began, his voice a low growl. "You contradict yourself. I don't like puzzles…"

She unfolded her hands from her lap and reached up to stroke the side of his neck. Her action caught him by surprise, but he refused to be distracted. He took hold of her hand so she wouldn't interrupt him again and continued, "As I said, I don't like…" She patted the opposite side of his neck with her other hand.

Gabriel was distracted. He let out a sigh over his own lack of discipline, grabbed her other hand, pulled her close, and kissed her.

He thought only to taste her, but her enthusiastic response made him hungry for more. He became more demanding. His mouth slanted over hers, and his tongue warred with hers in mock loveplay.

She wanted more. She pulled her hands away from his grasp and wrapped them around his neck. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and she moved restlessly against him, trying to get closer.

Her sweet response to his touch made him want to forget himself. It took extreme strength of will to pull back. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't be tempted by her sexy mouth and let out a loud growl of frustration.

"Now is not the time, wife." His voice was hard.

"No, of course not." Her voice was whisper soft.

"The dangers here…"

"Yes, the dangers…"

"I have duties."

"You must think me shameless to try to pull you away from your important responsibilities."

"Aye, you are," he agreed with a grin.

The man was driving her to distraction. His hand was caressing the side of her thigh as he listed all the reasons why they should immediately return to the holding.

She was having difficulty paying attention to what he was saying to her. Little things kept getting in the way. His clean male scent for one. Gabriel smelled like the outdoors. It was most appealing.

So was his voice. It was deep and vibrant. She wasn't intimidated by the gruffness in his tone. 'Twas the truth she found it arousing.

"Gabriel?"

His hand moved up higher on her thigh. "What is it?"

"I wanted to talk to you about important decisions I'd made."

"You may tell me later, Johanna."

She nodded. "Are there wolves here?" she asked.

"Sometimes," he replied.

"You don't seem concerned."

"The horses will give us sufficient warning. Your skin feels like silk."

She leaned back just a little so she could kiss his chin. His hand moved to the junction of her thighs. She instinctively parted them. He cupped her softness and began to stroke her while his kiss turned wet and hot.

Disrobing was awkward and frustrating as well because it took so long, and the ties holding her skirts together knotted when she tugged on them. Gabriel took over the task. He was just as inept, but stronger. He tore the satin slip apart.

Gabriel suddenly became impatient. He couldn't wait any longer. He forced her to straddle his hips, lifted her up, and then made himself stop.

"Take me inside," he commanded, his voice a hoarse whisper. He wanted to shout now but said instead, "When you're ready, wife."

She gripped her husband's shoulders with her hands and slowly lowered herself on top of him. They stared into each other's eyes until Gabriel was fully imbedded inside her.

The pleasure was almost unbearable. She squeezed her eyes shut and let out a little whimper. When she moved forward to kiss him, she felt a hot rush of ecstasy. She deliberately moved again.

God, her slow, teasing motions drove him wild. He grabbed hold of her hips and showed her what he wanted her to do. Their lovemaking became frantic. Both lost control. Gabriel found fulfillment before she did but helped her gain her own when he slipped his hand down between their joined bodies and stroked her. She tightened all around him and buried her face in the crook of his neck. She whispered his name with a sob as her orgasm consumed her.

Gabriel held her close for several minutes, then nudged her chin up and kissed her hard. His tongue mated with hers in a lazy fashion. And then he pulled away.

He didn't give her much time to recover. He kissed her once again and told her to get dressed. The day, he declared, was wasting away.

She tried not to be hurt by his attitude. She wanted to linger but knew his duties still waited for him.

They washed in the stream, dressed, and walked side by side to their mounts.

"You will not go out alone again, Johanna. I forbid it."

She didn't agree or disagree with that instruction. He gave her a hard look before lifting her onto her horse. Johanna adjusted the strap of her carrier on her shoulders, slipped the bow over her arm, and then took the reins from his hands.

"When we return to the holding, you will rest."

"Why?"

"Because I have told you to," he countered.

She wasn't in the mood to argue with him. She wasn't about to let him leave in such a brittle mood either. "Gabriel?"

"Yes?"

"Did you enjoy our time together?"

"Why do you ask me such a question? It should be obvious to you I enjoyed touching you."

After giving her that backhanded bit of praise, he walked over to his mount and gained the saddle.

"It isn't obvious," she blurted out.

"It should be," he countered.

She wanted compliments, he supposed. His mind immediately went blank. He wasn't any good at small talk or wooing. Still, the forlorn look on her face told him she was in need of more praise. He didn't want their interlude to end with her looking dejected.

"You made me forget my duties."

There, that statement of fact would surely convince her how tempting she was to him.

It sounded like an accusation to her. "I apologize, Gabriel. It won't happen again."

"I was giving you a compliment, you daft woman."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "You were?"

Apparently she didn't believe him. "Of course it was a compliment. A laird doesn't often forget his duties. Such ill discipline would cause havoc, and so, you see, I was indeed giving you a compliment."

"Most compliments aren't given in a roar, m'lord. That may have been the reason I didn't understand."

He grunted. She didn't know what that rude sound was supposed to mean. The discussion was over, however. Gabriel slapped her horse's left flank to get her moving.

He didn't speak to her again until they reached the stables. Then he reminded her he wanted her to rest. "Why must I rest? I'm not decrepit, m'lord."

"I don't wish you to become ill." The set of his jaw told her it was pointless to argue with him. She was too irritated to let the topic go, however. "You're being unreasonable. I don't wish to stay in bed all day. I wouldn't be able to sleep at night."

Gabriel lifted her to the ground, then took hold of her hand and dragged her back toward the keep. "I would allow you to sit by the fire in the hall. You may even sew if you're so inclined."

The picture he painted in his mind appealed to him. He smiled just thinking about Johanna doing such feminine things.

She was glaring up at him. He was so surprised by her reaction to his suggestion, he laughed.

"You have very specific ideas about how I should spend my days, m'lord. I wonder where you came up with them. Did your mother often sit by the fire and sew?"

"No."

"Then how did she fill her days?"

"With backbreaking work. She died when I was very young."

The look on his face and his tone of voice told her he didn't want her to pursue the topic. He was obviously sensitive about his childhood. The simple comment had told her quite a bit about how his mind worked, however. Backbreaking work had killed his mother… and wasn't that the reason Gabriel wanted her to rest her days away?

She knew she shouldn't question him further, but curiosity overrode caution. "Did you love your mother?"

He didn't answer her. She tried a different question. "Who raised you after she died?"

"No one and everyone."

"I don't understand."

He'd increased his stride as though trying to run away from her inquisition. He stopped suddenly and turned to her.

"You don't need to understand. Go inside, Johanna."

Her husband could be very rude when he wanted to be. He dismissed her from his thoughts without a single glance back to see if she was going to obey his orders.

Johanna stood on the steps for several minutes thinking about her husband. She wanted to understand him. She was his wife now, and it was therefore important that she know what made him happy and what pricked his temper. Once she'd established those facts, she would know how to respond.

"What has you frowning so, m'lady?"

Johanna jumped a foot, then turned to smile at Keith. "You startled me," she admitted, stating the obvious.

"I didn't mean to," the Maclaurin warrior replied. "I noticed you looked upset, and I wondered if I could do something to improve your mood."

"I was just thinking about your laird," she answered. "He's a complicated man."

"Aye, he is," Keith agreed.

"I would like to understand how his mind works."

"Why?"

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Direct questions don't work," she remarked. "Still, there's more than one way into a castle."

Keith misunderstood. "Aye, there are two entrances, three if you count the pathway through the cellar."

"I wasn't referring to this holding," she explained. "I meant that there is always more than one way to get what you want. Do you see?"

"But there are still just two entrances to the keep, m'lady," Keith stubbornly insisted.

She let out a sigh. "Never mind, Keith."

The soldier turned the topic. "Will you go walking with Auggie this afternoon?"

"Perhaps," she replied. She hurried up the steps to go inside. Keith rushed ahead of her to pull the doors open.

"Today's Thursday, m'lady."

He'd blurted out the reminder. She smiled. "Yes, it is," she agreed. "Please excuse me. I want to check on Dumfries," she added when the soldier stayed by her side. She assumed he wanted to know what her plans were. She really needed to find a way to convince Gabriel she didn't need an escort. Both Keith and Calum were driving her daft following her around. She'd had to resort to sneakery in order to go riding this morning, but she knew she wouldn't be able to pull that trick again. They were on to her now. Besides, using deceit to get what she wanted wasn't very honorable.

Johanna removed her carrier from her back and put the pouch with her bow and arrows in the corner by the steps.

"Then you knew it was Thursday all the while?" Keith asked.

"I hadn't thought about it, sir. Is it important?"

He nodded. "You should be wearing the Maclaurin colors today."

"I should. But yesterday…"

"You wore the MacBain plaid, m'lady. I specifically remember."

She could tell the soldier found her error distressing. "It's important I remember, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You wouldn't want to insult either clan, would you?"

"No, of course not. I'll try to remember in future, and I do thank you for pointing out my mistake. I shall go upstairs immediately and change."

"But the day's half done, m'lady. You might as well keep the MacBain plaid on. You could wear the Maclaurin colors tomorrow and the day after. That would right the insult."

"She should wear the MacBain colors every other day, Keith. It's unacceptable for MacBain's wife to wear your colors two days in a row."

Calum made that announcement from the doorway. Johanna started to agree with his suggestion, but Keith's expression changed her mind. Since he looked more irritated than Calum, she decided to agree with him.

Neither soldier was particularly interested in her opinion or agreement however.

"Calum, I believe Keith is correct when he…"

"She will not wear your clan's colors two days in a row."

"She will," Keith countered with a glare. "She wants to get along, Calum. You would do well to follow her example."

"That's a change of heart, isn't it? You said not an hour ago you wished she'd stay where she was put."

"I meant no insult. It would make my task easier if she would let me know where she…"

"Since when is looking after one woman, a tiny one at that, a difficult task? And while I'm thinking about it, since when do you decide where she stays? I believe, since she's a MacBain now, it's my duty to put her where…"

"No one's going to put me anywhere."

The soldiers ignored her protest. They were fully involved in their heated argument. She'd started out with the thought to placate the men. Now she wanted to throttle both of them.

Johanna reminded herself that she had vowed to get along with everyone in the clan, even mule-headed commanders. Since they were ignoring her, she slowly backed away. They didn't notice. She turned then and hurried down the steps and went over to the hearth where Dumfries was resting.

"The Highlanders have peculiar notions about everything, Dumfries," she whispered. She knelt down and patted the dog. "Why would grown men care what their women wore? I can see you don't have any answers. Quit your growling. I'm going to look under your bandages to make certain you're healing properly. I won't hurt you. I promise."

The injury was healing nicely. Dumfries was thumping his tail by the time she'd finished readjusting his bandage and giving him a bit of praise.

Keith and Calum had taken their argument outside. Johanna went upstairs, changed into the Maclaurin plaid, and then returned to the great hall to help with the preparations for dinner. Fortunately Leila and Megan were assigned the duty today. The other women wouldn't listen to her. Janice, a pretty woman with reddish blond hair, was the worst offender. She would turn her back on Johanna in the middle of her request and walk away. Kathleen was another Maclaurin with a negative attitude toward her mistress. Johanna wasn't certain how she was going to change the women's behavior, but she was determined to try.

Leila and Megan were exceptions to the Maclaurins' united rule of ignoring her. They seemed eager to assist her. Their acceptance of her as their mistress made her like them all the more.

"What is it you wish done, m'lady?" Leila asked.

"I would like you to fetch a skirt full of wildflowers for the tables," Johanna said. "Megan, you and I will put linens on the tables and put the trenchers out."

"The hall's looking fit, isn't it?" Megan remarked.

Johanna agreed. It smelled clean, too. The scent of pine mingled with the fresh outdoors aroma of the rushes on the floor. The hall was large enough to hold at least fifty warriors. It was sparsely furnished, though. She was just noticing that fact when two soldiers came down the stairs carrying two tall-backed chairs.

"Where do you think you'll be putting those?" Megan demanded.

"By the hearth," one of the men replied. "We're following our laird's directions."

Megan frowned. She flipped the white linen cloth over the table and bent to smooth the material. "I wonder why…"

Johanna interrupted. She took hold of the other end of the cloth and pulled it down to the opposite end of the long table. "He wants me to sew by the fire," she explained. She let out a sigh then. The soldiers carried the chairs across the room. Dumfries started growling. The men were both young, and both were obviously a little intimidated by the hound's bluster. They altered their directions to make a wider path around the dog.

Johanna was sympathetic to their fear. She considered telling them Dumfries wouldn't hurt them, then changed her mind. The soldiers would be embarrassed if she let them know she was aware of their discomfort. She pretended to be too busy adjusting the cloth to notice.

The chairs were placed at an angle in front of the fireplace. The men bowed to their mistress after she'd thanked them and hurried out of the hall.

The chairs had plump seat and back cushions. One chair, she noticed, was covered with the MacBain plaid; the other, the Maclaurin.

"Good heavens, do you suppose I'll have to alternate chairs the way I do the plaids?"

"I beg your pardon, m'lady?" Megan paused in her task of putting the stack of bread trenchers on the table. "I didn't quite make out what you were saying."

"I was just muttering to myself," Johanna explained. She took half the stack from Megan and went to set the other table.

"Wasn't it thoughtful of our laird to think about your comforts? As busy as he is, he still thought to have chairs carried in for you."

"Yes," Johanna hurriedly agreed, lest Megan think she wasn't appreciative of her husband's consideration. "I believe I'll work on my tapestry tonight. That should please my husband."

"You're a good wife to want to please him."

"Nay, Megan, I'm not a very good wife."

"But of course you are," Megan countered.

Gabriel walked inside in time to hear the Maclaurin woman's remark. He paused at the top step, waiting for his wife to turn around and notice him. She was busy placing trenchers on the table in front of each stool.

"A good wife is a submissive wife."

"Is being submissive a bad thing?" Megan asked.

"It doesn't seem to agree with me," Johanna replied, trying to make light of the painful topic.

"You seem very submissive to me," Megan announced. "I haven't noticed you ever disagreeing with anyone, m'lady, especially your husband."

Johanna nodded. "I have tried to do his bidding because he has proven to be considerate of my feelings. It will please him to have me sit by the fire and work on my sewing, and since I do enjoy the task, I will accommodate him."

"That's good of you, wife."

Gabriel drawled out his opinion. Johanna turned around to look at her husband. She blushed with embarrassment. She felt as though she'd just been caught doing something sinful.

"I wasn't being disrespectful, m'lord."

"I didn't believe you were."

She stared at him a long minute trying to guess what he was thinking. His expression was contained, and she couldn't tell if he was angry or amused with her.

She was a fair sight to him with her face all flushed pink with her embarrassment. She looked worried. For that reason he didn't smile. It occurred to him that his wife had come a long way since they were married. In just a little under three months, she'd conquered her fear of him. She no longer trembled at the sight of him. She was still too damned timid to suit him, but he hoped, with time and patience, she'd outgrow that flaw.

"Was there something you wanted, husband?"

He nodded. "We don't have a healer here, Johanna. Since you've proven handy with a needle and thread, I want you to sew up Calum. He got his arm sliced through by an inexperienced soldier he was trying to train."

Johanna was already hurrying toward the steps to fetch her supplies. "I would be happy to help. I'll just collect the things I'll need and come right back down. Poor Calum. He must be in terrible pain."

Her prediction proved false. When Johanna returned to the great hall, Calum was waiting for her. He was seated on one of the stools and was being bathed in attention by the women surrounding him.

Leila, Johanna noticed, was most upset by Calum's condition. She stood on the opposite side of the table pretending to be arranging the flowers she'd collected. Her eyes were misty, and she kept glancing over to look at the soldier. Calum was ignoring her.

The Maclaurin woman obviously held affection for the MacBain soldier. She was trying hard not to let her feelings show. Johanna wondered if it was because Calum hadn't shown any interest in her or if Leila hid her true feelings because she was a Maclaurin and Calum was a MacBain. One thing was certain. Leila was miserable. Johanna knew it wasn't her place to interfere; but Leila was such a dear woman, she really wanted to try to help.

Suddenly, another Maclaurin woman came rushing past Johanna.

"I'll be happy to sew you up, Calum," Glynis called out. The woman who'd given Johanna the nickname Courageous was smiling at the soldier. "It won't matter to me that you're a MacBain. I'll do a fair job all the same."

Johanna stiffened her spine and hurried across the room. "Please move aside," she ordered. "I'll take care of Calum. Leila? Bring me a stool."

Gabriel came back into the hall, saw the crowd, and immediately dismissed them.

Johanna studied the injury. It was a long, narrow cut that started at Calum's left shoulder and ended just above his elbow. It was deep enough to require threads to hold it together so it would heal.

"Does it pain you, Calum?" she asked, her voice filled with sympathy.

"Nay, m'lady, not at all."

She didn't believe him. She put her supplies on the table and sat down on the stool next to the soldier. "Then why are you grimacing, sir?"

"I have displeased my laird," Calum explained in a low whisper. "The paltry cut is proof to him I wasn't paying attention."

After giving her his explanation, he glanced back over his shoulder to frown at Leila. She immediately lowered her gaze. Johanna wondered if the soldier held the Maclaurin woman responsible for his inattention.

Calum didn't even flinch while she worked on his injury. It took her a long time to clean the cut, but stitching it up didn't take much time at all. Leila assisted her by tearing long strips of white cotton material to use as a bandage.

"There," Johanna declared when she was finished. "You're as good as new, Calum. Don't get the bandage wet, and please don't put any strain on my threads by lifting anything heavy. I'll change the bandage every morning," she added with a nod.

"He can take care of that chore."

Gabriel walked over to the hearth. He knelt down on one knee to greet his pet.

"I would prefer to change the bandages, m'lord," Johanna called out. She moved back so Calum could stand up, then walked around to the other side of the table. Leila had left the flowers in a clutter on the tabletop. Johanna was going to put them in the porcelain vase of water before they started wilting.

"Don't contradict my orders, wife."

Gabriel stood up and turned to his soldier. His voice was filled with anger when he ordered him to leave the hall. "Get back to your duties, Calum. You've wasted enough time. Leila, stay put. I want to have a word with you before you leave."

The harshness in her husband's voice astonished Johanna. He was obviously furious with the soldier, and some of his anger was spilling over to Leila. The Maclaurin woman looked stricken. Johanna's heart went out to the woman. She wanted to defend her. She decided she would have to find out what Leila had done to displease her laird first.

"I've just instructed Calum not to lift anything heavy, m'lord."

"He's going to be working on the wall."

"Do you mean carrying rock?" She sounded horrified.

"I do." He sounded mean.

"He can't."

"He will."

She picked up a flower and stuffed it into the vase. She wasn't paying any attention to what she was doing. She was fully occupied glaring at her husband.

She wasn't being fair, she decided. Her husband just didn't realize how severe Calum's injury was. "The cut was quite deep, m'lord. He shouldn't be doing any work at all."

"I don't care if he lost his arm, wife. He will work."

"He'll tear my stitches."

"He can use one hand or kick the stones for all I care. Leila?"

"Yes, Laird MacBain?"

"You will not distract my soldiers when they're at work. Do you understand me?"

Tears filled her eyes. "Yes, Laird MacBain. I understand. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't. You may leave now."

Leila made a quick curtsy and turned to leave. "Do you wish me to return tomorrow to help your mistress?"

Johanna was about to say yes. Gabriel beat her with his answer. "It isn't necessary. One of the MacBain women will take over your chores."

Leila went running out of the hall. Johanna was infuriated with her husband. She rammed another flower into the vase and shook her head at him.

"You've crushed her feelings, m'lord."

"Her feelings won't get her killed," he snapped.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Come, Dumfries. It's time to go outside."

Johanna shoved the rest of the flowers into the vase and then hurried over to block her husband's exit. She stopped just a foot away from him.

Her hands were settled on her hips and her head was tilted all the way back so she could look him in the eye.

His wife wasn't acting timid now. God's truth, there was fire in her eyes. Gabriel was so pleased by the gumption his wife was showing, he felt like grinning.

He scowled instead. "Are you questioning my motives?"

"I believe I am, m'lord."

"It isn't permitted."

She changed her approach. "Giving my opinion is permitted," she reminded him. "And it's my opinion you embarrassed Leila with your criticism."

"She'll survive," he snapped.

It was difficult but she didn't back away from his glare. "A good wife would probably let the matter drop," she whispered.

"Aye, she would."

She let out a sigh. "I don't suppose I'm a very good wife then, Gabriel. I still want to know what Leila did to make you angry."

"She damned near got my soldier killed."

"She did?"

"Aye, she did."

"But surely not on purpose," she defended.

He leaned down until his face was just inches away from hers. "Calum is at fault. He seems to have caught your affliction, wife. He wasn't paying attention to what he was doing."

She straightened her spine. "Are you referring to that little incident I was involved in, husband, when I accidentally walked into the middle of your training session?"

"I was."

"It's rude of you to bring that up," she announced.

He didn't look like he cared if he was being rude or not. "Staying alive is more important than hurt feelings," he muttered.

"That is true," she conceded.

Dumfries interrupted with a loud bark. Gabriel turned, called to his pet, and left the room without sparing his wife a backward glance.

Johanna thought about the conversation the rest of the afternoon. She knew she probably shouldn't have interfered in her husband's decisions regarding his clanspeople. She hadn't been able to stop herself, though. In the few months she'd been married, she'd grown quite fond of both Calum and Leila.

In truth, she was surprised by her own behavior. In the past she'd learned not to form any attachments because involvement led to caring, and then her first husband would have yet another weapon to use against her. Her affection for her staff put them in jeopardy.

Chelsea had been Johanna's first lesson. She was the cook's assistant, just about Johanna's own age, and a very sweet-tempered girl. Raulf knew Johanna enjoyed helping in the kitchens. She mentioned to him how she liked being around Chelsea because the girl had such a quick wit and found pleasure in everything she did.

Chelsea broke an egg one morning. Cook reported the loss to Raulf. He broke Chelsea's leg that afternoon. Bishop Hallwick had advised the punishment for such a grievous offense was adequate penance.

Things were as different as night and day here, however. She could have friends here and not worry about their safety.

Father MacKechnie joined them for dinner. He looked weary from his journey to and from the Lowlands but was full of news he wanted to share about the latest happenings in England.

The soldiers were all talking at once, and it was difficult to hear what the priest had to say.

"Pope Innocent is surely going to excommunicate King John," Father MacKechnie reported in a near shout so he'd be heard. "The country will soon be put under an interdict."

"What has he done to warrant such harsh treatment?" Johanna asked.

"John was determined to put his own man in the position as archbishop of Canterbury. Our pope wouldn't have his interference. He announced his choice, an outsider to England, I understand; and John, furious over the selection, gave the order not to allow the man into England."

One of the Maclaurin soldiers made a quick jest the other soldiers found vastly amusing. Johanna had to wait until the howling coming from the second table had calmed before speaking again.

"What will happen if the country is placed under an interdict?"

"The subjects will suffer, of course. Most of the priests will have to flee from England. No masses will be said, no confessions heard, no marriages performed. The only sacraments Pope Innocent will allow will be baptisms for the innocent newborns and extreme unction for the dying, providing the family can find a priest to administer the sacrament in time. It's a sorry state of affairs, Lady Johanna, but the king doesn't seem too upset by such dire circumstances."

"He'll probably rob from the churches as a method of getting even." Gabriel made that speculation. Johanna agreed.

Father MacKechnie was appalled by the possibility. "He'll burn in hell if he does," he muttered.

"His soul's already lost, Father."

"You cannot know for certain, lass."

Johanna lowered her gaze. "No, I cannot know for certain."

Father MacKechnie changed the subject. "Prince Arthur's dead," he announced. "Some think he died at Easter-time four years ago."

Father MacKechnie paused. "There's talk the prince was murdered."

Gabriel was watching Johanna now. He noticed her complexion had turned as pale as milk.

"He probably was murdered," Calum said.

"Yes, but the question plaguing the barons is…"

"Who killed him," Calum supplied.

"Exactly," the priest agreed.

"What is the current speculation?" Gabriel asked.

"Most of the barons believe King John had Arthur killed. He's denying any knowledge of his nephew's fate, of course."

"The king is the only one with a strong motive," Calum said.

"Perhaps," Father MacKechnie agreed.

"A toast to a fair day's work."

The shout came from Keith. The Maclaurin soldiers all stood with their goblets in their hands. The MacBain soldiers followed. They met between the two tables, struck their goblets against each other's, and then downed what was left of the dark ale. Most of the drink had spilled to the floor.

Johanna excused herself from the table. She went upstairs to collect her bag with her half-completed tapestry, needle, and threads and then returned to the hall. She sat down in one of the chairs and began to work.

She had just pulled the first stitch through the burlap when she was asked to move.

"You're sitting in the MacBain chair, m'lady," Keith advised. He stood in front of Johanna with his hands clasped behind his back. Three other Maclaurin soldiers stood behind their commander. They blocked her light, and every one of them looked terribly concerned over what they obviously considered to be a serious slight.

She let out a sigh. "It matters where I sit, doesn't it, Keith?"

"Aye, m'lady. You're wearing the Maclaurin colors tonight. You should be sitting on the Maclaurin cushion."

The three soldiers flanking their leader immediately nodded.

She didn't know if she wanted to laugh at the disgruntled-looking soldiers or shout at them. A hush descended over the group as they waited to see what she would do.

"Let her sit where she wants to sit," a MacBain soldier shouted.

Johanna found the entire situation ludicrous. She peeked around the soldiers to look at her husband, hoping for a bit of guidance. Gabriel was watching her, but he didn't show any outward reaction to what was going on. He was leaving the decision to her, she supposed.

She decided to placate the Maclaurins. It was still Thursday, after all. "Thank you for your instruction, Keith, and for being so patient with me."

She tried to sound sincere. She couldn't quite keep the amusement out of her voice though. The men moved back when she stood up. One even bent down to move her bag of threads for her.

Johanna walked to the other side of the hearth and sat down in the Maclaurin chair. She adjusted her skirts, tucked in a loose pleat, and then picked up her tapestry again and went back to work.

Her head was bent to her task. She pretended intense concentration, for the Maclaurins were still watching her. When she heard several grunts that she assumed were rude noises of approval, she had to bite her lower lip so she wouldn't start laughing.

Father MacKechnie stayed by Gabriel's side throughout the rest of the evening. He was catching his laird up on all the latest happenings with the other clans. Johanna found the discussion fascinating. The topic was feuding, and it seemed to her that every clan in the Highlands was currently involved in some sort of an argument. The reasons the priest gave for the warring were even more astonishing to her. Why, the slightest breach or insult set tempers boiling. Sneezing seemed to be enough of a reason to go into battle.

"The Highlanders like to fight, don't they, Father?" Johanna didn't look up from her tapestry when she called out her question.

Father MacKechnie waited until the Maclaurin soldiers had filed out of the hall before answering her. Johanna was pleased to see the men leave. They were so loud and rambunctious, and it was difficult to discuss anything without shouting every word.

It was blissfully quiet once the men had taken their leave. None of them had bothered to bow to their mistress. She tried not to take offense, for at least they had given her husband that bit of respect.

She repeated her question to the priest. "Aye, they do like to fight," Father MacKechnie agreed.

"Why is that, do you suppose?"

"It's considered honorable," the priest explained.

Johanna missed a stitch, frowned, and set about righting the damage. She kept her gaze on her task when she asked her husband if he agreed with the priest.

"Aye, it is honorable," Gabriel said.

She found their opinions daft. "Banging heads together is considered honorable? I can't imagine why, m'lord."

Gabriel smiled. Johanna's choice of words, added to her exasperated tone of voice, amused him.

"Fighting lets the Highlanders show off those qualities they most admire, lass," the priest explained. "Courage, loyalty to their leader, and endurance."

"No warrior wishes to die in his bed," Gabriel interjected.

"They consider it a sin," the priest advised.

She dropped her needle and looked up at the men. She was certain they were jesting with her. They both looked sincere, however. She still wasn't convinced. "Which sin would that be?" she asked, her suspicion apparent.

"Sloth," Gabriel told her.

She almost snorted. She caught herself in time. "You must think me naive to believe that tall tale," she scoffed.

"Aye, you are naive, Johanna, but we aren't jesting with you. We do consider it a sin to die in our beds."

She shook her head so he'd know she wasn't believing any of his nonsense, then went back to sewing. The priest continued with his news. Gabriel was having difficulty paying attention. His gaze kept returning to his wife.

She enchanted him. Contentment such as he'd never known before swelled inside his chest. When he was very young and foolish and all alone, he would fall asleep each night thinking about his future. He made up dreams about the family he would have. His wife and his children would belong only to him, and they would, of course, live in his castle. Gabriel often pictured his wife sitting by the fire doing some feminine task… such as sewing.

The images he'd conjured up in his mind as a little boy kept the harsh reality of his stark life from overwhelming him. The fantasies helped him survive.

Yes, he'd been terribly young and tender back then. Time and training had toughened him, however, and he'd outgrown the need for such foolish dreams. He no longer felt the need to belong. He'd learned to depend solely upon himself. Dreams were for the weak. Aye, he thought to himself, he was strong now and his dreams were all but forgotten.

Until now. The memories came flooding back as he stared at his wife.

Reality was a hell of a lot better than fantasies, Gabriel decided. He'd never imagined having a wife as beautiful as Johanna. He hadn't known what contentment was or how he would feel or how fierce his need would become to protect her.

Johanna happened to look up and caught her husband staring at her. His expression puzzled her. He seemed to be staring through her as though he was lost in some important thought. Aye, he must be thinking about something troublesome, she guessed, because his frown had become ferocious.

"I could use a spot of uisgebreatha," Father MacKechnie announced. "Then I'll be looking for my bed. Lord, I'm weary tonight."

Johanna immediately got up to serve the priest. A jug filled with Highland brew was kept on the chest against the wall behind Gabriel. She carried the jug over to the table and filled the priest's goblet.

She turned to serve her husband next. Gabriel declined the drink with a shake of his head.

Father MacKechnie took a long swallow and promptly grimaced. "I'd wager this hasn't aged more than a week at most," he complained. "It tastes like sour swill."

Gabriel smiled. "You'll have to complain to Auggie. The drink came from his kettles."

Johanna's curiosity was captured by the priest's remark about aging. "Is it important how long the drink waits?"

"It ages, lass," the priest corrected. "It doesn't wait. And yes, it's important. The longer, the better, some experts say."

"How long?" she wanted to know.

"Why, as long as ten or twelve years in the oak barrels," Father MacKechnie speculated. "It takes a patient man to wait that long for a taste, of course."

"Is the drink more valuable then?"

Johanna put the jug down on the table. She stood next to her husband's side while she waited for the priest to finish his drink and answer her.

She put her hand on Gabriel's shoulder. Her gaze was intent upon the priest, and Gabriel doubted she was even aware she was touching him. The unconscious show of affection pleased him considerably, for it was proof to him that she'd completely conquered her fear of him. And that, he decided, was an important first step. He was out to gain her trust. Oh, he remembered demanding she give him her trust, but he'd realized right after giving her that high-handed order that trust would have to be earned. Gabriel believed he was a patient man. He would wait. In time she would realize her good fortune and value his protection. She would learn to trust him, and with that trust came loyalty.

A man couldn't ask for anything more from his wife.

The priest pulled him away from his thoughts when he said, "The drink is very valuable once it's been allowed to age. Men would kill for pure uisgebreatha. The Highlanders, you see, take their drinking seriously. 'Tis the reason they call it the water of life, lass."

"Would they barter for goods if aged brew was offered in trade?"

"Johanna, why does this topic interest you?" Gabriel asked.

She shrugged. She didn't want to tell him about the barrels of liquid gold Auggie had mentioned to her. She would have to gain permission from her friend first. She also wanted to see for herself that the barrels were still inside the cave. Besides, it would be a nice surprise for Gabriel; and if the value was as high as Johanna guessed, her husband would have something to barter with for supplies.

"Father, would you honor us by taking over the vacant chamber upstairs tonight?" Johanna asked.

The priest turned his gaze to his laird. He waited for him to extend his invitation.

"It's a comfortable bed, Father," Gabriel remarked.

Father MacKechnie smiled. "I'll be happy to take it," he said. "It's most hospitable of you to open your home to me."

Father MacKechnie stood up, bowed to his laird, and then went to collect his things. Johanna walked back over to her chair, gathered her tapestry and needle and put them back inside her bag. Gabriel waited for her near the entrance.

"You may leave your sewing on the chair, wife. No one will bother it."

Dumfries came back into the hall, passed Johanna on her way to the stairs, and growled at her. She patted the hound before continuing on.

Gabriel followed Johanna up the stairs. She seemed preoccupied with her thoughts while she prepared for bed. He added a log to the fire, then stood up, leaned against the mantel, and watched her.

"What are you thinking about?"

"This and that."

"That isn't a proper answer, Johanna."

"I was thinking about my life here."

"You've made the transition without much difficulty," he remarked. "You should be happy."

Johanna tied the belt to her robe and turned to her husband. "I haven't made any transition, Gabriel. 'Tis the truth I've been living in limbo. I've been caught between two worlds," she added with a nod.

Her husband sat down on the side of the bed and pulled his boots off.

"I meant to talk to you about this topic earlier today," she said. "But there didn't seem to be enough time."

"Exactly what is it you're trying to tell me?"

"You and all the others have been treating me like a visitor, Gabriel. Worse, I've been acting like one."

"Johanna, you aren't making any sense. I don't take strangers to my bed. You're my wife, not a visitor."

She turned her gaze to the fire. She was thoroughly disgusted with herself. "Do you know what I've realized? In my bid to protect myself, I've become completely self-consumed. I'll have to go to confession tomorrow and beg God's forgiveness."

"You have no need to worry about protecting yourself. It's my duty to take care of you."

She smiled in spite of her irritation. Gabriel sounded insulted.

"No, it is my duty to take care of myself."

He didn't like hearing her opinion. His scowl was as hot as the fire. "Do you deliberately try to rile me by suggesting I can't take care of you?"

She hurried to soothe him. "Of course not," she answered. "I'm pleased to have your protection."

"You contradict yourself, woman."

"I'm not trying to confuse you, Gabriel. I'm just trying to sort things out in my mind. When someone's hungry and there isn't any food, well then that someone is consumed day and night with the worry of finding something to eat. Isn't that true, husband?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I would imagine so."

"For a long time I've been consumed with fear. I lived with it for so long, it seemed to take control of me, but now that I'm safe, I've had time to think about other matters. Do you understand?"

He didn't understand. He didn't like seeing her frown either. "I've told you, you please me. You needn't be worried."

She was exasperated. Since she was turned away from her husband, she felt it safe to smile. "Gabriel, as surprising as this may be for you to hear, I'm not overly concerned about pleasing you."

He was surprised all right as well as irritated. "You're my wife," he reminded her. "It is therefore your duty to want to please me."

Johanna let out a sigh. She knew her husband didn't understand what she was trying to explain. She couldn't fault him. She barely understood herself.

"I meant no insult, m'lord."

She sounded sincere. Gabriel was appeased. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. Then he leaned down to kiss the side of her neck.

"Come to bed now. I want you, Johanna."

"I want you, too, Gabriel."

She turned around and smiled at her husband. He lifted her into his arms and carried her to bed.

They made slow, sweet love to each other, and when they each had found their fulfillment, they held each other close.

"You do please me, woman." His voice was gruff with affection.

"Remember your praise, m'lord, for I'm certain there will be times in future when I don't please you."

"Is this a worry or a prophecy?"

She leaned up on her elbow and gently stroked the side of his neck. "Nay, I give you only the truth."

She turned his attention with her question about his intentions for tomorrow. He wasn't accustomed to discussing his plans with anyone, but he was in the mood to make her happy and so he went into detail about the hunt he planned and the items he and his men planned to steal.

She vowed not to lecture him. She couldn't keep silent more than a few minutes, though, and hurled herself into a speech about the merits of probity. She mentioned the wrath of God on Judgment Day. Gabriel wasn't impressed with her speech about fire and brimstone. He yawned in the middle of it.

"Husband, it's my duty to help you lead a good, honest life."

"Why?"

"So you'll get to heaven, of course."

He laughed. She gave up. She fell asleep worrying about her husband's soul.