Saving Grace

Chapter 12

Clare MacKay didn't wake up until the following morning. Johanna stayed with the woman most of the night until Gabriel came into the chamber and literally dragged her away. Hilda was happy to take over the watch for her mistress.

Johanna had only just returned to the room and settled herself in a chair by the side of Clare's bed when the woman opened her eyes and spoke to her.

"I heard you whispering to me."

Johanna was given quite a start. She jumped up and went over to Clare.

"You're awake," she whispered, her relief almost overwhelming.

Clare nodded. "How do you feel?" Johanna asked.

"I ache from my head to my toes."

Johanna nodded. "You have bruises from your head to your toes," she replied. "Does your throat hurt, too? You sound hoarse."

"'Tis the truth I did a lot of screaming," Clare said. "May I have a drink of water?"

Johanna hurried to fetch the goblet. She helped Clare sit up. She tried to be as gentle as possible, but the woman still grimaced in pain. Her hand shook when she reached for the goblet.

"Was there a priest here? I thought I heard someone praying."

"Father MacKechnie gave you the last rites," Johanna explained. She put the goblet on the chest and sat down in her chair again. "We didn't know if you would survive or not. It was just a precaution," she added in a rush.

Clare smiled. She had beautiful white teeth and dark brown eyes. Her face was still terribly swollen, of course, and Johanna could tell from the way she tried not to move she was still in terrible pain.

"Who did this to you?"

Clare closed her eyes. She avoided answering the question by asking one of her own. "Last night… you said I was safe. I remember hearing you whisper those words to me. Were you telling the truth? Am I safe here?"

"Yes, of course you are."

"Where is here?"

Johanna hurried to introduce herself and then explained what had happened. She deliberately left out the mention about the arrow she'd put in Robert MacInnes's thigh and the arrow her husband put in his shoulder. By the time she was finished with her explanation, Clare was falling asleep again.

"We'll talk later," she promised. "Sleep now, Clare. You may stay with us for as long as you wish. Hilda will bring you something to eat in just a little while. You'll…"

Johanna quit talking when she realized Clare MacKay was sound asleep. She tucked the covers around the woman, moved her chair back, and left the room.

Gabriel was reaching for his boots when Johanna walked into their chamber.

"Good morning, m'lord," she said in greeting. "Did you sleep well?"

He frowned in reaction. Johanna went over to the window and pulled the furs back. From the yellow cast in the sky, she guessed it was only a few minutes past dawn.

"You were told to stay in bed," he said. "Did you wait until I fell asleep and then leave again?"

"Yes."

His frown intensified. She decided to try to placate him.

"I thought I would rest for a few minutes before going downstairs. I am weary."

"You look half dead."

"My appearance isn't important," she announced even as her hands flew to her hair and she tried to tuck the curls back into her braid.

"Come here, Johanna."

She walked across the room to stand in front of him. He reached down to untie the belt holding her plaid in place.

"You will stay where you're put," he announced.

She tried to slap his hands away. "I'm not a piece of jewelry or a trinket only to be taken off a shelf when the mood strikes you, m'lord."

Gabriel caught hold of her chin and leaned down to kiss her. He thought only to get her to quit frowning, but her lips were so damned soft and appealing, he forgot his reason. He put his arms around his wife and hauled her up against him.

His kisses made her weak-kneed and dizzy. She put her arms around her husband's waist and held tight. She decided it was quite all right to allow him to rob her of her every thought. He was her husband, after all. Besides, when he was kissing her, he couldn't scowl… or lecture.

She didn't remember undressing or getting into bed. Gabriel must have carried her there. He'd taken his clothes off, too. He covered her with his body, captured the sides of her face with his hands, and gave her a seering kiss. His tongue moved inside her mouth to rub against hers.

She loved to touch him, to feel his hot skin under her fingertips, to caress the splay of hard muscle along his upper arms and shoulders. When she wrapped her arms around her husband, she felt as though she'd captured his strength and his power.

He was a wonder to her, a revelation. Gabriel was as strong as the fittest of warriors, and yet so incredibly gentle whenever he touched her.

She loved the fact that she could make him lose his control. She didn't have to guess that might be true either; Gabriel told her. She felt… free with him, and completely uninhibited as well, for her husband seemed to like whatever she wanted to do.

He made her lose her own control, of course. She wasn't one to scream her demands, but by the time he quit his teasing and moved to mate with her, she was wild to make him end this sweet torment.

She cried out when he entered her, and he immediately stopped. "God, Johanna, I didn't mean to…"

"Oh, God, I hope you did mean to," she whispered. Her nails dug into his shoulder blades. She wrapped her legs around his thighs and squeezed him tight inside her. "Gabriel, I don't wish you to stop now. I want you to move."

He thought he'd died and gone to heaven. He ignored her command and leaned up on his elbows to look into her eyes. He saw the passion there and almost lost all his control then. Dear Lord, she was beautiful… and so damned giving.

"You're a lustful wench." He was trying to tease her, but his voice sounded gruff. "I like that," he added with a groan when she moved so restlessly against him.

Gabriel had made her burn for him and now refused to give her fulfillment or take his own.

"Husband, this activity requires your participation," she cried out, her frustration beyond reason now.

"I thought I'd drive you daft first," he told her in a husky whisper.

It turned out to be an empty boast, for Gabriel felt as though he was the one who lost his mind when she dragged him down for a long, passionate kiss and moved against him so provocatively. His discipline deserted him. His movements became forceful and demanding, though surely no more demanding than his wife's.

They found fulfillment together. Johanna held onto her husband as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her. She felt safe in his strong arms, certainly sated, and almost loved. It was more than she'd ever had before or ever dreamed was possible.

She fell asleep sighing.

Gabriel thought he might have crushed her to death. She went completely limp in his arms. He rolled onto his side and whispered her name. She didn't answer him. She was breathing though. Had passion sent her into a dead faint? Gabriel smiled, for that possibility did appeal to him. He knew the true reason, of course. Johanna was exhausted. She'd spent most of the night watching over their new charge.

He leaned down, kissed her brow, and got out of bed. "You will rest," he whispered. He smiled then. The little woman was actually obeying him. Of course she hadn't heard his order; she was already sound asleep, but it still made him feel damned happy to give a command he knew would be obeyed.

Gabriel covered his wife, got dressed, and quietly left the chamber.

The day started out pleasant enough, but it soured fast. Calum was waiting for his laird in the great hall with the announcement that another petition had arrived from Baron Goode requesting an audience with Lady Johanna. The messenger who delivered the request came from Laird Gillevrey again and waited by Calum's side to hear Gabriel's reply.

"Is the baron waiting at the border of your land?" he asked the soldier.

"Nay, Laird. He sent a representative. His goal is to convince Lady Johanna to meet with Baron Goode near England's border."

Gabriel shook his head. "My wife isn't going anywhere. She doesn't want to speak to Baron Goode. England is a part of her past now, and she looks only to her future here. Tell your laird I thank him for acting as mediary. I'm sorry he's been inconvenienced by the English. I'll find a way to repay him for his efforts in keeping the baron and his vassals away from my holding."

"What exactly do you wish me to tell the representative?" the soldier asked. "I'll memorize every word. Laird MacBain, and recount just as you've spoken."

"Tell him my wife will not speak to any barons and that it would be foolish indeed if they continue to pester her."

The messenger bowed and left the hall. Gabriel turned to Calum. "You will not mention this to my wife. She doesn't need to know the baron is again trying to get to her."

"As you wish, Laird."

Gabriel nodded. He tried to put the irritant of the English baron behind him, but his day still didn't improve. The Maclaurins weren't getting any of their duties done, and there were three accidents before noon. The soldiers were preoccupied; they acted as though they'd been given a grave insult and couldn't stand the thought of working side by side with the MacBain soldiers. It was apparent they blamed the MacBains for the mess they believed they were in.

Odd but the Maclaurins didn't like warring much. Gabriel found their attitude puzzling. He thought they might have lost their zest for battle after they lost almost all they owned when last under siege by the English. Still, Gabriel found their attitude a shameful trait. Highlanders should embrace war, not abhor it.

The merging of the two clans was taking longer than he'd anticipated. He had wanted to give each clansman time to adjust to all the changes, but he now realized he had been too damned accommodating. All that was going to stop. His followers would either put their differences aside or suffer his displeasure.

Work on the wall was going at a snail's pace. On a usual day, one MacBain soldier could do the work of three Maclaurins. Today didn't qualify as usual, however. The Maclaurins were muttering like old men. Their concentration certainly wasn't on their work, and nothing significant was getting done.

Gabriel's patience was at an end. He was about to challenge a few of the blatant offenders when Calum chased him down with the report that yet another messenger had arrived.

Gabriel wasn't in the mood for another interruption. He much preferred the idea of bashing a few Maclaurin heads together. He didn't particularly care for the news he was given either. The news was sure to please his wife, however, he supposed.

He wanted Johanna to be happy. He wasn't certain why it mattered to him, but he was honest enough to admit her happiness was important.

Hell, he was getting soft. The messenger was shaking in his boots by the time Gabriel gave him permission to leave. He made him repeat the message he wanted taken back to England, for the man's attention was interrupted when Dumfries came running into the hall. The dog growled; the man bolted, and Gabriel found his first smile since early morning.

Johanna's reaction to the news wasn't what he expected. He was going to wait until dinner to tell her, but she came down the stairs just as the messenger was trying to run through the closed doors and wanted to know what the stranger wanted.

Dumfries was snapping at the man's heels. Johanna was appalled by the treatment their visitor was receiving. She pushed the dog out of the way, then opened the doors for the man. She bid him good day, but she didn't think he heard her. He was halfway across the courtyard, running like a madman, and Gabriel's laughter surely drowned out her words.

She shut the doors and walked over to the steps. Her husband stood by the hearth, grinning like a well-gifted man on Christmas morn. She shook her head at him.

"It isn't polite to frighten our guests, m'lord."

"He's English, Johanna," he explained. He believed he had just given her an adequate excuse for his conduct.

She looked worried. She hurried down the steps and walked over to her husband. "He was a messenger, wasn't he? Who did he bring news from? Was it King John? Or did Baron Goode send another request?"

She'd gone from worry to terror in less than a minute's time. Gabriel shook his head. "He didn't bring bad news, wife. The message came from your mother."

She grabbed hold of Gabriel's hand. "Is she ill?"

Gabriel hurried to soothe her. He hated seeing her frightened. "She isn't ill," he said. "At least I don't believe she is," he added. "She wouldn't be coming here if she was sick, would she?"

"Mama's coming here?"

She'd shouted the question. He was astonished. Johanna looked ready to swoon. Her reaction wasn't at all what he expected.

"This news does not please you?"

"I have to sit down."

She collapsed into one of the chairs. Gabriel walked over to stand in front of her. "Answer me, wife. If the news doesn't make you happy, I'll have Calum catch the messenger and tell him to deny the request."

She bounded to her feet. "You'll do no such thing. I want to see my mother."

"Then what in God's name is the matter with you? Why are you acting as though you've just received foul news?"

She wasn't paying any attention to her husband. Her mind raced from one thought to another. She was going to have to get her house organized. Aye, that duty came first. Dumfries would have to have a bath. Was there time to teach the hound some manners? Johanna wasn't about to let the dog growl at her mama.

Gabriel grabbed hold of his wife by her shoulders and demanded she answer him. She asked him to repeat his question.

"Why isn't this good news, wife?"

"It's wonderful news," she countered. She added a look that suggested she thought he'd lost his mind. "I haven't seen Mama in over four years, Gabriel. It will be a joyful reunion."

"Then why in God's name do you look so ill?"

She shrugged his hands away from her shoulders and started pacing in front of the hearth. "There's so much to do before she gets here," she explained. "Dumfries will need to be bathed. The keep must be cleaned from top to bottom. I won't have your pet growling at my mama, Gabriel. I'll have to teach him some manners. Oh God, manners." She whirled around to look at her husband. "The Maclaurins don't have any."

She'd wailed out her last remark. Gabriel didn't know whether to laugh or frown over her rattled behavior.

He ended up smiling. She frowned in reaction. "I won't have my mama insulted," she snapped.

"No one's going to insult her, wife."

She snorted with disbelief. "I won't have her disappointed either. She trained me to be a good wife." She put her hands on her hips and waited. Her husband didn't have anything to say. "Well?" she demanded when he stubbornly remained silent.

He let out a sigh. "Well, what?"

"You're supposed to tell me I'm a good wife," she cried out, her frustration evident.

"All right," he soothed. "You're a good wife."

She shook her head. "No, I'm not," she admitted.

He rolled his eyes heavenward. He didn't know what she expected from him. He guessed she'd tell him when she got herself under control, and he patiently waited.

"I've been remiss in my duties. All that's in the past, however. I shall start teaching your men proper manners at dinner tonight."

"Now, Johanna," he began, a warning in his voice. "The men are…"

"Don't you interfere, Gabriel. You needn't worry. Your soldiers will listen to my instructions. Do you think you'll be home by dinner?" she asked.

He was confused by the question. He was home now, damn it all, and dinner would be served in just a few minutes. Still, she was rattled now, he reminded himself. Perhaps she didn't realize what time it was.

"I'm home now," he reminded her. "And dinner…"

She didn't let him finish. "You have to leave."

"What?"

"Go and get Alex, husband. I've been very patient with you," she added when he started frowning. "Your son should be home when Mama gets here. Alex will probably need a bath, too. I'll put him in the creek with Dumfries. God only knows what manners your son's been taught. Probably none." She paused to sigh. "Go and fetch him."

She tried to leave the hall after giving him that order. He caught hold of her and forced her to turn around to look at him.

"You do not give me commands, wife."

"I cannot believe you take this opportunity to become surly, husband. I don't have time to placate you today. I have important duties to see to," she added. "I want Alex home. Do you want to shame me in front of my mama?" She seemed appalled by that possibility. Gabriel let out a loud sigh. He barely remembered his own mother and therefore couldn't imagine why Johanna would become so agitated over a visitation. It was obviously important that all go well, however.

And he did want his wife to be happy. He decided to tell her the true reason.

"Alex stays with his relatives until…"

"The wall's taking forever," she interrupted. "There is another reason, wife."

"What is it?"

"I don't want him here until the Maclaurins and the MacBains have put their differences aside. I don't want Alex to suffer any… slights."

She'd been struggling to get away from his grasp until he gave her that explanation. Then she went completely still. Her expression was incredulous.

"Why would anyone slight Alex? He's your son, isn't he?"

"Probably."

"You claim him. You can't change your mind now. Alex believes you're his father, Gabriel-"

He put his hand over her mouth to get her to cease her instructions to him. His smile was filled with tenderness, for it occurred to him that his gentle wife had never once considered denying Alex's rightful place in their household. Hell, she was demanding fair treatment.

She deserved to understand his motives for keeping the boy away. Gabriel dragged her over to a chair. He sat down, then pulled her onto his lap.

She immediately turned timid. She wasn't used to sitting on her husband's lap. Anyone could walk in and see them together. She worried over that possibility for a moment or two, then pushed the concern aside. What did she care what others thought? Gabriel was her husband, after all. It was his right. Besides, she liked being held by him.

'Twas the truth she was beginning to like him more than she'd ever thought was possible.

"Quit daydreaming," Gabriel ordered when he saw the look on her face. She did look as though she was dreaming as she stared off into space. "I want to explain something to you."

"Yes, husband?"

She put her arm around his neck and began to stroke his skin. He told her to stop, but she ignored his command. He frowned in reaction.

"When the Maclaurins were in such desperate need of a leader to battle the English, they sent a contingent to me."

She nodded, frowning now for she couldn't imagine why Gabriel wanted to tell her what she already knew. She didn't interrupt him, however. He looked intense, and it would have been rude for her to interrupt him with the news that she already knew the reason why he was now laird. Nicholas had explained the situation to her, and Father MacKechnie had been happy to give her more details.

There was also the fact that this was the first time Gabriel was taking the time to share his concerns with her. Whether he realized it or not, he was making her feel involved in his life and important.

"Please continue," she requested.

"After the battle was finished and the English were no longer a threat, the Maclaurins were content to have me for their leader. Of course, they weren't given the option," he added with a nod. "They weren't as receptive to my followers."

"Didn't the MacBain soldiers fight with the Maclaurins against the English?"

"They did."

"Then why aren't the Maclaurins thankful now? Have they forgotten?"

Gabriel shook his head. "Not all of the MacBains could fight. Auggie is one example. He's too old for battle now. I thought, given time, the Maclaurins and the MacBains would learn to adjust, but now I realize that isn't going to happen. My patience is at an end, wife. The men will either get along and work together or suffer my displeasure."

He was growling just like Dumfries by the time he finished his explanation. She stroked the side of his neck. "What happens when you're displeased?"

He shrugged. "I usually kill someone."

She was certain he was jesting with her. She smiled. "I won't allow fights in my house, husband. You'll have to do your killing somewhere else."

He was too stunned by what she'd just said to take exception to her command. Johanna had just called the keep her house. It was a first, for until this moment, she'd always referred to everything as his. Gabriel hadn't realized how much her separation, deliberate or not, had bothered him.

"Is this your home?"

"Yes," she answered. "Isn't it?"

"Yes," he agreed. "Johanna, I want you to be happy here."

He sounded puzzled by his own admission. She couldn't help but become a little disgruntled over that notice.

"You sound surprised," she said. Lord, he had beautiful eyes. She thought she could be content to look at her husband all day long and not grow bored. He really was a handsome devil.

"I am surprised," he admitted.

He suddenly wanted to kiss her. Her mouth was so damned appealing to him. So were her eyes. They were the clearest color of blue he'd ever seen. Hell, he even liked the way she frowned at him. He had to shake his head over that foolish realization. Wives should never let their husbands see their displeasure… should they?

"Some husbands want their wives to be happy," Johanna decided aloud. "My father certainly wanted Mama to be happy."

"And what did your mother want?"

"To love my father," she answered.

"And what do you want?"

She shook her head. She wasn't about to tell him she wanted to love him. Such a declaration would make her vulnerable… wouldn't it?

"I know what you want," she blurted out in an attempt to take the attention away from her feelings. "You want me to sit by the fire and sew at night and rest my days away. That's what you want."

She'd become almost rigid in his arms. She wasn't stroking his neck now either. She was pulling his hair. He reached up, took hold of her hand, and put it in her lap.

"Oh, I forgot one last thing," she blurted out. "You'd like me to stay where you put me, isn't that right?"

"Don't jest with me, wife. I'm not in the mood."

She wasn't jesting with him, but she didn't think it would be a good idea to tell him so. She didn't want to goad his temper. She wanted him to stay in a good mood so he would let her have her way.

"There's more than one way to skin a fish," she announced.

He didn't know what the hell she was talking about. He didn't think she did either. For that reason he didn't ask her to explain.

"I believed, given time, that we would get used to each other," he told her.

"You make us sound like the Maclaurins and the MacBains," she countered. "Are you getting used to me?"

"It's taking longer than I expected," he told her.

He was deliberately getting her riled. Johanna was trying not to let him see how upset she was becoming. The proof was in her eyes, however. They were now the color of blue fire. Aye, she was irritated all right.

"I haven't had much experience with marriage," he reminded her.

"I have," she blurted out.

He shook his head. "You weren't married. You were in bondage. There's a difference."

She couldn't fault his reasoning. She had been in bondage. However, she didn't want to dwell on her past. "And just what does my first marriage have to do with the topic under discussion?"

"What exactly is the topic?"

"Alex," she stammered out. "I was explaining to you that there is always more than one way to skin a fish. Don't you understand?"

"How in God's name would I understand? No one skins fish here."

She thought he was being deliberately obtuse. He certainly didn't appreciate clever sayings. "I meant that there is always more than one way to attain a goal," she explained. "I won't have to use force to get the Maclaurins to behave. I'll use other methods."

She could tell he was finally considering the matter. She pressed her advantage. "You told me I should trust you. 'Tis the truth you ordered me to," she reminded him. "Now I will give you the same command. Trust me to take care of Alex. Please bring him home."

He couldn't deny her. "Very well," he agreed with a sigh. "I'll get him tomorrow, but he'll only come here for a short visitation. If all goes well, then he'll stay. Otherwise…"

"It will go well."

"I won't have him put in jeopardy."

"No, of course not."

She tried to get off his lap. He stopped her by grabbing hold of her.

"Johanna?"

"Yes?"

"Do you trust me?"

She stared into his eyes for a long minute. He believed she was thinking the question over before she gave her answer. The possibility chafed. They'd been married for over three months now, and that was surely time enough for her to learn to trust him.

"Your hesitation irritates me," he snapped.

She didn't seem particularly bothered by that fact. She touched the side of his face with her hand. "I can tell it does," she whispered. "Yes, Gabriel, I trust you."

She leaned forward and kissed him. The wonder in her voice, added to the show of affection, made him smile.

"Do you trust me?"

He almost laughed until he realized she was being serious. "A warrior doesn't trust anyone, Johanna, but his laird, of course."

"Husbands should trust wives, shouldn't they?"

He didn't know. "I don't believe it's necessary." He rubbed his jaw, then added, "Nay, it would be foolish."

"Gabriel?"

"Yes?"

"You make me want to tear my hair out."

"Begging your pardon, mistress," Hilda called out from the doorway. "May I have a moment of your time?"

Johanna jumped off her husband's lap. She was blushing by the time she turned to the cook and bid her enter the hall.

"Who's sitting with Clare?" she asked.

"Father MacKechnie's with her now," Hilda answered. "She wanted to speak to him."

Johanna nodded. Gabriel stood up. "Why didn't you tell me she was awake?"

He didn't give her time to answer but started for the steps. Johanna hurried after him. "I promised her she could stay here," she blurted out.

Her husband didn't answer her. She pushed Dumfries out of her way and chased her husband up the steps.

"What are you thinking to do?" she demanded.

"I'm just going to talk to her, Johanna. You needn't worry."

"She isn't up to a long conversation, husband, and Father MacKechnie might be hearing her confession now. You shouldn't interrupt."

The priest was just opening the door to come out when Gabriel reached the chamber. He nodded to Father MacKechnie as he passed him. Johanna was right behind her husband.

"You will wait here while I talk to her," Gabriel commanded.

"But she might be afraid of you, husband."

"Then she'll have to be afraid."

He shut the door in his wife's face. Johanna didn't have time to be outraged over his rudeness. She was too worried about Clare MacKay.

She put her ear to the door and tried to listen. Father MacKechnie shook his head and pulled her away.

"Let your husband have his privacy," he suggested.

"You should know by now our laird would never hurt a woman."

"Oh, I do know that," Johanna rushed out. "Still, Clare MacKay wouldn't know, would she?"

The priest didn't have an answer for her. She turned the topic then. "Did you hear Clare's confession?"

"I did."

Johanna's shoulders slumped. Father MacKechnie thought that was an odd reaction. "Confession's a sacrament," he reminded his mistress. "She wanted absolution."

"At what price?" Johanna asked in a whisper.

"I'm not understanding your question, lass."

"The penance," she blurted out. "It was severe, wasn't it?"

"You know I cannot discuss the penance," he said.

"Bishop Hallwick liked to boast about his penances," Johanna blurted out.

The priest demanded several examples. The one that most repelled her she saved for last. "One leg for one egg," she said. "The bishop laughed after he suggested that punishment to my first husband to inflict upon a serving girl."

Father MacKechnie plied her with questions, and when she'd given him her answers, he shook his head.

"I'm ashamed to hear this," he admitted, "for I would like to believe all priests are good men doing God's important work here. Bishop Hallwick will have his day of reckoning when he stands before his Maker and tries to explain away his deliberate cruelty."

"But, Father, the church stands behind the bishop. He takes his penances from the good book. Why, even the length of the stick is given."

"What are you talking about? What stick?" the priest asked, thoroughly confused.

She didn't understand why he didn't know what she was talking about. "The church dictates how a husband and wife should behave," she told him. "A submissive wife is a good and holy wife. The church approves beating women and, in fact, recommends such punishment because women will try to rule their husbands if they're not kept submissive."

She paused to take a breath. Discussing the topic was upsetting to her, but she didn't want the priest to see her distress. He might ask her why she was distraught, and then she'd have to confess a dark and surely mortal sin.

"The church frowns on murder, of course. A husband shouldn't beat his wife to death. A stick is preferred over a fist. It should be wooden, not metal, and no more than this long."

She held her hands out to show him the measurement.

"Where did you hear these rules?"

"Bishop Hallwick."

"Not everyone in the church believes…"

"But they're supposed to believe," she interrupted, her agitation apparent now. She was wringing her hands together and trying not to let the priest see how close she was to losing her composure.

"Why is that, lass?"

Why didn't he understand? He was a priest, after all, and should be most familiar with the rules governing women.

"Because women are last in God's love," she whispered.

Father MacKechnie kept his expression contained. He took hold of Johanna's arm and led her down the hallway. He didn't want his laird to come outside and see his wife in such a distressed state.

There was a bench against the wall adjacent to the steps. The priest sat down, then patted the spot next to him. She immediately sat down. Her head was bowed, and she pretended great interest in straightening the pleats of her plaid.

Father MacKechnie waited another minute or two for his mistress to regain her composure before he asked her to explain her last remark.

"How would you know women are last in God's love?"

"The hierarchy," she answered. She repeated from memory what she'd been taught, her head bowed all the while. When she was finished, she still refused to look at the priest.

He leaned back against the wall. "Well, now," he began. "You've given me quite a list to mull over in my mind. Tell me this, Johanna. Do you truly believe dim-witted oxen…"

"It's dull-witted. Father." she interrupted.

He nodded. "All right then," he agreed. "Do you believe dull-witted oxen will have a higher place in heaven than women?"

Father MacKechnie was such a good man. She didn't want to disappoint him. She wasn't going to lie to the priest though, no matter what the consequences.

"No," she whispered. She glanced up to see how her denial affected the priest. He didn't look horrified. She took a breath and then blurted out, "I don't believe any of it. I'm a heretic, Father, and will surely burn in hell."

The priest shook his head. "I don't believe it either," he told her. "It's nonsense made up by frightened men."

She leaned back now. She was clearly astonished by Father MacKechnie's attitude. "But the church's teachings…"

"The teachings are interpreted by men, Johanna. Don't be forgetting that important fact."

He took hold of her hand. "You aren't a heretic," he announced. "And now I want you to listen to what I have to say. There is but one God, Johanna, but two ways of looking at Him. There's the English way and the Highlander's way."

"How are they different?"

"Some of the English pray to a vengeful God," Father MacKechnie explained. "The children are raised to fear Him. They are taught not to sin because of the terrible retaliation in the next life, you see. The Highlanders are different, though certainly no less loved by God. Do you know what the word clan means?"

"Children," she answered.

The priest nodded. "We teach our children to love God, not fear Him. He is compared to a kind, good-hearted father."

"And if a Highlander sins?"

"If he is repentant, he will be forgiven."

She thought about his explanation a long while before she spoke again. "Then I am not damned because I don't believe God loves women least of all?"

The priest smiled. "No, you are not damned," he agreed.

"You have as much value as any man. To tell you the truth, lass, I don't believe God keeps a list or hierarchy."

She was so relieved to hear she wasn't alone in her opinions and that she wasn't a heretic because she refused to believe Bishop Hallwick's dictates, she wanted to weep. "I don't believe God wants women beaten into submission," she whispered. "Still, I don't understand why the church has so many cruel rules against women."

Father MacKechnie let out a sigh. "Frightened men came up with these rules."

"What would they be afraid of, Father?"

"Women, of course. Now don't go repeating this to anyone, Johanna, but there are actually some men of God who believe women are superior. They don't want them to get the upper hand. They believe, too, that women use their bodies to get what they want."

"Some women probably do," Johanna agreed. "But only some."

"Yes," the priest said. "Women are certainly stronger. No one can dispute that fact."

"We aren't stronger," Johanna protested, smiling now for she was certain the priest was jesting with her.

"Yes, you are," Father MacKechnie countered. Her smile proved contagious, and he couldn't help but grin. "Think many men would have more than one child if they were the ones suffering through childbirth?"

Johanna laughed. The priest had painted an outrageous picture.

"Women have been given a harsh lot in this life," Father MacKechnie continued. "Yet they survive and, in fact, find ways to flourish in such a restrictive setting. They certainly have to be more clever than men, lass, to get their voices heard."

The door opened to Clare MacKay's chamber, and Gabriel came out. He turned to pull the door closed behind him.

Both Johanna and Father MacKechnie stood up. "Thank you, Father," she whispered. "You've helped me sort out a difficult problem."

"From the look on your husband's face, I would wager he could use a little help sorting out his problem." He'd whispered his remark, then raised his voice when he turned to his laird. "Did your conference go well, Laird MacBain?"

The scowl on Gabriel's face should have been proof enough to the priest that the conference hadn't gone well. Johanna decided Father MacKechnie was just trying to be diplomatic.

Gabriel shook his head. "She refuses to name the man responsible," he said.

"Perhaps she didn't know his name," Johanna suggested, instinctively coming to Clare MacKay's defense.

"She told me she spent a full night with the soldier, Johanna. Do you honestly believe she didn't bother getting his name?"

"Gabriel, you needn't raise your voice to me."

After giving her husband a good frown, she tried to walk around him so she could go to Clare's room. Her husband grabbed hold of her arm.

"Let her rest," he commanded. "She fell asleep during my questions." He turned his attention to the priest and added, "If her face wasn't distorted from the beating, I would have each one of my men come up here and look at her. Perhaps seeing her would nudge their memory."

"Then you believe a MacBain…"

"No, I don't believe one of my own is responsible," Gabriel said. "My men are honorable."

"Did Clare say it was a MacBain?" Johanna asked.

He shook his head. "She wouldn't answer that question either," he said.

"MacBain, Keith's back from the MacKay holding!"

Calum shouted the announcement from the entryway. Gabriel nodded to the priest, let go of his wife's arm, and went downstairs. He fairly ripped the doors off their hinges and went outside. Calum hurried to keep up with his laird. The doors slammed shut behind the two warriors.

Johanna spent the next hour wrestling with Dumfries while she removed his stitches. He carried on like a baby; and when she was finally finished poking at him, she spent a long while soothing him. She was sitting on the floor.

Dumfries obviously didn't realize how big he was, for he tried to climb onto her lap.

She was certain she smelled as horrid as the dog and decided it was high time Dumfries had a proper bath. Megan fetched her a rope. Johanna looped one end around the dog's neck, collected her container of rose-scented soap, and dragged the hound out the back door and down the hill.

She ran into Glynis at the water well. Johanna was already a bit out of sorts. The constant worry about Clare MacKay preyed on her mind, and Dumfries's shameful behavior was draining her strength. Her arms ached from dragging him along. Johanna believed she would have been able to control her anger if she'd been in a better frame of mind.

Glynis was polite enough to call out a proper greeting to her mistress before asking about Clare MacKay. "You aren't thinking of letting that whore sleep under the same roof with our laird, are you?"

Johanna came to a dead stop. She slowly turned to look at the Maclaurin woman. "Clare MacKay isn't a whore!" she shouted at the woman. She was about to add a forceful thought or two about the rewards Glynis would receive in the next life if she showed compassion now but changed her mind. Glynis deserved a good kick in her backside. Johanna resisted the impulse and decided to give her a kick in her arrogance instead.

"I didn't mean to raise my voice to you, Glynis, for it isn't your fault you were led to believe Clare MacKay was a whore. Still, given your nickname, I would think you above all others would reserve judgment until you had all the facts. The Maclaurins wouldn't have given you such a name if you weren't worthy, now would they?" she asked. She nodded to the other women lined up at the wall.

Glynis shook her head. She looked confused and wary. Johanna sweetened her smile. "We have only Laird MacInnes's word that Clare didn't act honorably, and we aren't about to believe anything that man tells us, are we now? Clare's a welcomed guest in my house. I expect her to be treated with dignity and respect. Do excuse me now. Dumfries and I are going to Rush Creek. Good day, Glynis."

Johanna tightened her hold on her rope and walked away. She started counting. She could hear the women whispering among themselves behind her. She doubted Glynis would be able to contain her curiosity for more than a minute or two.

She was wrong. The Maclaurin woman called out to her before Johanna had even reached the number ten.

"What nickname have you heard, m'lady?"

Johanna slowly turned around. "Why, Glynis, I thought you knew. They call you Pure."

Glynis let out a little gasp and she visibly blanched. Johanna should have felt guilty over her lie. She didn't, though. The Maclaurin woman thought she was so terribly clever with her backhanded insults. She didn't know Johanna understood the names were actually the opposite of what they really meant.

"Dumfries," she whispered, "we're going to let her simmer until tomorrow. By then Glynis will have realized how cruel her game is. Then I'll tell her I made up the name."

Guilt wouldn't allow Johanna to wait that long. By the time she'd bathed the dog, she was feeling miserable. She was certain that if she was struck by lightning at that very moment, she'd go straight to hell.

She decided to go to Glynis's cottage and confess her sin. She was drenched from head to shoes, thanks to Dumfries's misbehaving in the creek, and she was given several stares on her way back to the well.

"M'lady, what happened to you?"

Leila asked her the question. She backed away from the dog and kept her gaze on the hound while she waited for her mistress to answer her.

"I gave Dumfries a bath. He pushed me in the creek," Johanna explained. "Twice as a matter of fact. Where does Glynis live? I wish to have a word with her."

Leila pointed out the cottage. Johanna dragged the dog along by her side, muttering over his stubbornness. She reached the cottage, hesitated for only a minute while she pushed her hair out of her face, and then pounded on the door.

Glynis pulled the door open. Her eyes widened when she saw her mistress. Johanna noticed Glynis's eyes looked teary. Lord, had her cruel remark made her cry? Johanna's guilt intensified. She was a little surprised, too, for Glynis was such a big, strapping woman, almost manly in her build, she didn't think she was the sort to ever weep.

She spotted Glynis's husband sitting at the table then. She didn't want him to overhear what she was going to say.

"Could you spare me a moment of your time, Glynis? I would like to speak to you in private."

"Yes, of course," Glynis answered. She glanced over her shoulder, then turned back to her mistress. She had a worried expression now. Johanna guessed she didn't want her husband listening in either.

Introductions were made. Glynis's husband was a head shorter than his wife. He had red hair, freckles on his face and arms, and handsome white teeth. His smile seemed sincere.

Johanna was invited inside. She declined as graciously as possible, using her sorry condition as her excuse.

She asked Glynis to please step outside instead. When the Maclaurin woman had closed the door behind her, Johanna motioned her close.

Glynis started to walk forward, then stopped. Dumfries's low growl obviously intimidated her.

Johanna ordered the dog to quit his bluster before she gave her apology.

"I came here to tell you I made up the nickname. No one calls you Pure," she announced. "I did it out of spite, Glynis, and I'm sorry for my sin. I caused you needless worry, but in my defense I will tell you I was thinking to teach you a lesson. It stings to have the tables turned on you, doesn't it?"

Glynis didn't answer her question, but her face turned pale. Johanna nodded. "I know you're the one who came up with the name for me. I also know that when you call me Courageous, you're really meaning I'm a coward."

"That was before, m'lady," Glynis stammered out.

"Before what?"

"Before we knew you well and realized you weren't a coward at all."

Johanna wasn't going to be swayed by that bit of praise. She was certain Glynis was only trying to ease her way out of an awkward situation.

"I do not care for your foolish games," she announced with a nod. "Father MacKechnie boasted that the Highlanders never hide their feelings. They don't use subterfuge."

She had to take the time to explain what that word meant before continuing. "I find I admire that trait, Glynis. If you think I'm a coward, then have the courage to say it to my face. Don't make up silly games. They're hurtful… and very like something the English would do."

If Glynis nodded any more vehemently, Johanna thought her neck would snap.

"Did you tell our laird?" she asked.

Johanna shook her head. "This matter doesn't concern him."

"I will stop giving nicknames, m'lady," Glynis said then. "And I apologize if you were hurt by my cruelty."

"Were you hurt by mine?"

Glynis didn't answer for a long minute. Then she nodded. "I was," she whispered.

"Then we are even. Auggie isn't daft," she added. "He really is clever. If you spent any time at all with him, you'd realize that."

"Yes, m'lady."

"There," Johanna announced. "We've settled this problem. Good day to you, Glynis."

She made a curtsy and turned to leave. Glynis followed her to the edge of the path. "We only called you Courageous until you put Dumfries back together with your threads, m'lady. Then we changed your name."

Johanna was determined not to ask, but curiosity won out. "And what did you change my name to?"

She braced herself for the insult she knew was coming.

"Timid."

"Timid?"

"Aye, m'lady. We call you Timid."

Johanna was suddenly in a fit mood again. She smiled all the way home.

They called her Timid. It was a fair start.