The Wedding

Chapter 8

Jamie insisted they stay for supper so she could have a nice long visit with Brenna. Connor insisted they leave. Alec wasn't about to let his wife be disappointed, however. He ended the discussion by turning the invitation into a command.

No one bothered to ask Brenna how she felt about it. She was hungry, of course-she always was-but she wasn't about to eat anything at all in front of relatives she wanted to impress. She might do something horrid like spill her drink or eat too much once she got started, and God only knew what they would think of her then.

She'd moved close to Connor's side during the long-winded debate, but didn't realize she'd taken hold of his hand until he had to help her let go of him so he could follow his brother outside.

When he leaned down toward her, she assumed he wanted to kiss her before he took his leave. Her father had often done that when he left his wife's side, and Brenna was so appreciative that Connor was finally going to be thoughtful, she decided to beat him to the task.

He didn't expect it. Before he even had a glimmer of her intentions, her mouth touched his for a second or two, and she was finished.

She looked damned pleased with herself.

He looked thunderstruck.

He didn't make an issue of her behavior, and while he found it puzzling that she didn't seem to understand what was appropriate and what wasn't, he had to admit it didn't bother him all that much.

"Now will you let go of my hand?"

She did as he requested and clasped her hands behind her back.

Alec had already reached the top of the steps and was staring at the tapestry hanging over the mantle. The look on his face wasn't at all pleasant. Thankfully, his irritation seemed to be directed toward his wife.

"Think I wouldn't notice, Jamie?" He sounded furious.

Jamie didn't look any worse for wear, though. She frowned at her husband and called out, "Think I wouldn't notice my beloved William hanging in the stables?"

Connor nudged Brenna to get her attention, told her to stay out of trouble, and followed his brother outside.

Jamie excused herself a minute later. "Please make yourself comfortable while I go and have a word with cook about the preparations. We'll eat an hour earlier than usual so you can be home well before dark. I'll hurry back."

The minute Brenna was alone, she frantically tried to make herself more presentable. She brushed the dust off her clothes, adjusted the pleats of her plaid, shoved her hair back over her shoulders, and pinched some color into her cheeks. Unfortunately, once she was finished, she suspected she didn't look any better.

She wished she didn't feel so nervous and unsure of herself. She blamed her condition on Alec Kincaid. Why, her hands were still shaking from her introduction to Connor's brother, and how in heaven's name was she ever going to be able to sit down at the same table with the man?

She didn't want to draw any attention to herself. She was determined not to make any mistakes or talk about anything one of them might take exception to, and so she listed all the subjects she mustn't bring up. England came to mind first. Alec and Jamie probably felt the same way Connor did about her beloved country, which meant they detested it, and even though she thought such an opinion was both ignorant and foolish, she wasn't about to get into an argument with them.

The list of topics she must avoid went on and on, and it didn't take her long to realize the only safe subject left was the weather. She wanted to be perfect, knew it wasn't possible, and finally concluded her only course of action was to keep her mouth shut, her hands folded in her lap, and to speak only when she was asked a specific question.

She would also avoid standing or sitting near Jamie. Connor and Alec were bound to notice how ordinary she was in comparison to Jamie's flawlessness. Why, Alec's wife was even more beautiful than Rachel, and Brenna hadn't thought such a thing was possible.

She wanted her new relatives to believe she was worthy of Connor. She didn't understand why their acceptance was so important, and if she weren't feeling like such a nervous twit at the moment, she was sure she would be able to reason it all out. Up until the minute she'd walked into the Kincaid home, she'd believed a goat would have been worthy enough for her husband, but she doubted Alec and Jamie would appreciate hearing that opinion. They probably liked their brother, and Brenna wanted them to like her. She was in need of a friend to talk to, and there had been such kindness and warmth in Jamie's eyes, Brenna knew she would be a good ally.

Feeling inadequate made her miserable. Brenna had been taught to count her blessings and not her sorrows, and so she reminded herself of all the wondrous gifts God had bestowed on her. She had good, straight teeth, a strong back, and feet that never, ever pained her. Those were all fine assets indeed, but far more important than any physical attributes were the hidden treasures she possessed. Her mother had often told her she had a good heart. She was also a hard worker. She used to have a strong mind too, until Connor came along and turned her into a babbling half-wit.

Perhaps she wasn't completely hopeless, after all. Besides, she had a sound plan now, and that made her feel more in control. As long as she remembered to be quiet and demure, she would do just fine.

With any luck, no one would even notice she was there.

She looked about the hall with interest. Her attention was immediately drawn to the huge tapestry hanging over the mantle. She stared at it a long while, trying to figure out what had bothered Alec so much when he'd looked at it. She thought the piece was lovely. Its edges were frayed with age, but the threads were still vibrant with color.

Depicted was the likeness of a man Alec had called William, dressed in a deep royal blue robe and wearing a jeweled crown on his head, who seemed to be looking across the hall. She didn't know who William was, but she decided he must have lived a long time ago because there was a gold halo over his head, which meant he'd already been sainted. She really should have taken the time to memorize all the names and pertinent facts about the saints as her confessor had suggested, she realized, and wouldn't he be gloating now if he knew she was sorry she hadn't paid attention to his lectures? Although she was curious to find out which William it was, she wasn't going to ask Alec or Jamie to tell her, for fear they'd think she was ignorant. She would have to wait until later and put the question to Connor. She made the sign of the cross to show her respect for the saint before turning her back on him so she could look at the rest of the hall.

She was immediately captivated by the arsenal hanging on the walls on either side of the entrance. In the center of the larger wall were two magnificent swords with golden handles encrusted with jewels. The larger one had a jewel missing near the center of the cluster of gems.

It was all very impressive, she supposed, but downright peculiar too. Why would anyone want to hang their weapons in their home?

A door opened behind the balcony above the main entrance, and a little girl no bigger than a whisper came hurrying out. The child had obviously just awakened from her nap, as she was rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She was dressed in an ivory gown and had wrapped herself in a plaid that dragged on the floor around her. The little girl was in such a hurry to get downstairs, she forgot to hold the blanket away from her feet as she walked across the balcony. She had already stumbled once when Brenna started toward her to lend a helping hand.

Brenna started running when the little one tripped a second time. "Pick up your plaid and wait for me to help you down the stairs," she called out.

She didn't understand what Brenna was telling her. She didn't seem to be afraid of the stranger, just curious. She stared down at Brenna between the rails and smiled, but didn't stop.

Too late, Brenna realized her mistake in calling out to the child, because now the little one was busy watching her and wasn't paying any attention to where she was going. The child was headed for disaster. Brenna started running up the steps to stop her.

She didn't make it. The little girl reached the edge of the top step, tripped on her blanket, and catapulted herself into the air with the force of a pebble hurled from a sling.

Brenna lunged forward, caught her in her arms, and had enough wits about her to wrap herself tight around the little one and hold her close. The force of the impact made Brenna lose her footing, and as she fell backward, she tried to turn so that her shoulder, and not her head, would hit the stone wall. She didn't accomplish her goal.

Later, Jamie told her she hit her forehead twice more before she landed in a heap at the bottom, with the child still wrapped protectively in her arms.

Brenna recovered from the mishap before Jamie did, but she throbbed from her head to her toes. The top of her forehead felt as though it were on fire, but once she'd made certain the little one was all right, she was actually able to smile over her pitiful condition. Blood was streaming down her forehead; the hem of her gown was torn, and the pleats she worked so hard to straighten were gone.

Jamie was so distraught from the fright, she could barely think what to do. She sat down on the steps above Brenna, pulled her baby into her lap, and hugged her tight. "Dear God, I thought you were both going to die. Are you all right, Brenna? Don't move until I… What were you thinking, Grace? You know you mustn't come down the steps without… How many times has your father told you to call to one of us? Are you all right, Brenna? Answer me."

Jamie was sobbing, and Brenna was certain she wouldn't hear any reply she gave. She felt foolish sprawled out on the floor like a broken vase, so she forced herself to get to her feet, and once again tried to make herself presentable.

"Brenna, don't move until I make certain you haven't broken anything."

"All right, Jamie."

"Good Lord, you're standing up."

"Mama, do we got to tell Papa?"

"No, we don't have to tell him. You do."

Grace squirmed off her mother's lap. "When I'm ready, Mama?" she pleaded. "Not before?"

Jamie nodded. "When you're ready," she conceded. "As long as you tell him before you go to bed tonight."

"Why don't we forget it happened, Jamie. It was just an accident."

Grace must have understood a little of what Brenna suggested because she moved closer to her and nodded her agreement.

"I was so terrified, I couldn't move. I saw my baby flying through the air and my heart felt as though it had stopped. I couldn't get to her before…" Too upset to continue, Jamie covered her face with her hands and broke into sobs again.

Brenna patted her arm to try to calm her. "There, there. It's over now. Your daughter is as fit as ever, Jamie. She doesn't even have a scratch."

She helped Jamie stand up, put her arm around her shoulders, and led her into the hall.

Jamie had already taken her seat at the table before she came to her senses and realized what she was doing. She jumped back up, and shoved Brenna down on an adjacent stool. Landing with a thud, pain shot up from the back of Brenna's right thigh, and it took a good deal of discipline not to cry out.

Jamie finally noticed the injury on her forehead. "Good God, you're bleeding."

"It's just a little cut, nothing more. Please sit down and catch your breath. You've been through a fright, Jamie."

"No, I should be comforting you. I swear to God it's going to take me a month to recover. You're taking it all in stride, though, aren't you? Turn your head so I can get a better look. Are you bleeding anywhere else? Lord, my hands are shaking so, I can barely get your hair out of my way. Grace?"

"Yes, Mama?" The little girl came running across the hall, dragging her plaid behind her. She seemed eager to be included in the conversation until her mother told her what she wanted her to do.

"Go and get your father."

Grace dropped her blanket, climbed up on Brenna's lap, and leaned back against her. "Mama? Can I go and get Papa when I'm ready?"

Brenna burst into laughter. The sound warmed Jamie's heart and brought fresh tears into her eyes. She took Brenna's hand and squeezed. "Thank God for you. Were it not for your quickness, my daughter might have broken her neck. My husband and I are in your debt until the day we die."

Brenna colored with embarrassment. "You don't owe me anything. You are my relatives now, and I will always be willing to help you in any way I can. Besides, all of us must watch out for the little ones. Isn't that so?"

"It is so," Jamie agreed. "You and I are more than relatives, though. We're sisters. Isn't that so?"

"It is so," she whispered. "And there is always room for one more sister in my heart."

The bond between the two women was formed in that instant, and all of Brenna's worries and insecurities disappeared. Sisters, after all, didn't need to impress each other.

"Mama, don't cry anymore. I don't like it," Grace demanded in a quivering voice.

"I shall stop at once," Jamie promised. She let go of Brenna's hand, drew a deep breath, and wiped the tears away from her cheeks with the back of her hands. "I should send someone to fetch Connor. He'll want to see this."

Brenna didn't want Connor to join them any more than she wanted Alec. She simply wasn't up to a long explanation now, and if he even looked as though he blamed her for this mishap, she knew her temper would start simmering. There was also a remote chance he might show her a little sympathy, and she would be so appreciative, she might break down and cry. She couldn't think of anything more humiliating.

"You're being unreasonable about this. Your husband's going to demand answers as soon as he looks at you."

"I'll be happy to explain it all to him on our way home."

"Are you afraid of him?" Jamie asked, sounding stunned by the possibility.

Brenna shook her head. "Of course not. It's just that I know he'll say something I'm sure to take exception to, and I won't be able to stop myself from letting him know what I think about that, and before you know it, we'll be arguing in front of Alec. It wouldn't be at all appropriate. I want to impress the man, not infuriate him. Besides, I have vowed not to draw attention to myself. Will you please stop poking at me?"

"You saved my daughter's life. Think Alec won't be impressed with that fact? Why are you so uncomfortable with compliments, Brenna?"

"Because they're misplaced. I only did what I should have done."

"I see this embarrasses you, and so I shall let it go for now. Grace, love, go and ask one of the servants to bring fresh water and towels."

The little girl was in such a hurry to help, she forgot to take her plaid with her.

The cut was on Brenna's forehead above her left eye. After the injury had been properly cleaned, Brenna assumed Jamie was finished, and so she suggested Jamie tell her how she'd ended up married to Alec Kincaid. Jamie suggested she fetch her needle and thread first.

Brenna didn't like the sound of that. "Please don't think I'm not grateful, but I would rather you didn't go to any more trouble. I'm feeling fine, really. I barely felt it. Is Grace your only child?"

"No, I have four in all. Mary Kathleen's the oldest. She's married now and lives too far away to suit me, for I only see her twice a year. Gideon was born ten years ago, and five years later, Dillon came along. Grace is our baby."

"She's adorable. She has the face of a cherub."

"Yes, she does," Jamie agreed. "Your questions haven't changed my mind, if that was your hope. The cut is too deep to be left alone. You need to be stitched together so you may as well stop trying to be noble. We both know you're in pain."

"I wasn't being noble. I was being diplomatic."

"It's a wasted effort."

"Perhaps I wasn't specific enough for you. If you think I'm going to let you near me with a needle in your hand after you've only just told me you can't stop shaking, you're out of your mind."

"I'm determined to get my way, Brenna."

"You're demented, Jamie."

Grace's eyes had grown wide during the debate. She climbed back up on Brenna's lap and watched in fascination while the two women shouted at each other.

Jamie eventually won the battle. She was older, stronger, and had two servants on her side. Grace was Brenna's only ally. She wasn't much help, though. She giggled whenever her mama raised her voice and covered her ears whenever Brenna raised hers.

"Will you get it done before Connor and Alec come inside?"

"Yes."

Fortunately, Jamie was as good as her promise. Brenna never made a sound while Jamie cleaned the injury and sewed it together.

"You'll have a scar trailing down your forehead, but half of it can be concealed by your hair. Does that upset you?"

"No," Brenna answered. "What upsets me is the way you stop every time you want to say something to me. Please hurry up and finish."

Jamie let out a sigh. "I had no idea you were so difficult."

After making her observation, she wet a fresh towel and washed the blood off Brenna's hair. She still believed Connor would demand an explanation as soon as he looked at Brenna.

"I agree with you that he'll notice my injury, but I'm certain he won't say a word about it until we're well on our way home. He might even wait until tomorrow to bring it up. If I were to push my hair back and point to the stitches, I might get him to say something before."

The cook had joined them a few minutes before and now asked her mistress's permission to make a suggestion.

"Yes, Elyne?" Jamie asked.

"Why not make a wager?"

Brenna embraced Elyne's idea. If Connor ignored her injury, then she wanted Jamie to plant flowers in front of Connor's home to make it look as inviting as Jamie's. If Connor commented on the injury, then Jamie wanted Brenna to promise to come and see her at least once a week, no matter what the weather or schedule.

Rules were firmly set down so that neither lady would be able to sway the outcome in her favor. Elyne was given the important duty of hiding in the hallway to make certain trickery, such as hints, wasn't used.

The brothers could hear their wives' laughter from outside the entrance and smiled in reaction. Alec was pleased his wife was enjoying her visitor, and Connor was relieved Brenna wasn't as nervous with Jamie as she'd been with Alec.

Brenna heard the doors open and immediately helped Grace get off her lap. She stood up, keeping her back to her husband, and pretended concentration as she folded the plaid the little girl had discarded.

As soon as Grace spotted her father striding toward the table, she went running to the opposite end.

Alec took his place at the head of the table. Jamie sat on his left. Brenna let Connor have the stool across from Jamie and took her seat next to him. Grace was the last to sit down. She and her father faced each other at least sixteen stools apart. Once the little girl had scooted the stool up close to the table, she sat down, stacked her arms on the table, dropped her chin down on top, and stared at her father.

Connor barely glanced at Brenna. He did ask her if everything was all right, but she assumed he only wanted to know if she had stayed out of trouble as he had suggested before he left, and she gave him a quick nod in answer.

"Where are your other children?" Brenna asked Jamie.

"Alec gave them permission to stay outside with Gavin and his wife for another hour," Jamie explained before turning to her husband. "Have you told Connor the news yet?"

"No, I haven't," Alec replied with a smile.

"Is it good news?" Brenna asked.

"Oh, yes, Brenna," Jamie answered. "It's very good news."

"I've just received word, Connor, your stepmother and her son are on their way to your holding. They should reach your land late today or early tomorrow."

Brenna reacted before her husband did. She was so startled by the announcement, she jumped to her feet, almost upsetting the stool in her haste. "Now? Your mother's coming for a visit now?"

Connor gently pulled her back down by his side. "My stepmother," he corrected.

"Yes, of course, your stepmother. She's coming for a visit now?"

"Yes, now, according to what Alec has just told us. I see no reason to panic. Does this news upset you?"

"No, of course not. I was just taken by surprise to hear that your stepmother could now be waiting."

"She might not arrive until tomorrow," Alec suggested.

Connor turned to his wife. "What's come over you? This is good news, not bad."

"Yes, it's good news," she agreed. "And I will do everything I can to make her feel welcome."

"How long has Euphemia been away?" Jamie asked.

"Seventeen years," Connor answered. "She had only just returned to her relatives to help with an ailing uncle when my father was killed. She couldn't bear to come back once word reached her."

"You haven't seen her in all that while?" Brenna asked.

"I've seen her several times since then. Three years ago, when Alec and I were settling a dispute near the peaks, we stopped to pay our respects."

"She was still in mourning," Alec said.

"She must have loved your father a great deal," Brenna whispered.

"Of course she did," he answered.

"She should have moved on," Alec said. "Grieving for the dead won't bring them back."

"You would grieve for me, wouldn't you, Alec?" Jamie asked.

"Of course."

"How long?"

Alec wasn't about to get into a discussion about the length of time he would mourn his wife. He couldn't even think about losing her without feeling sick.

"You will not die on me. Do you understand?" he ordered in a hard, unbending voice.

Only his wife saw the panic in his eyes and hurried to put his mind to rest. "No, I won't die on you. Haven't you forgotten to tell Connor your other interesting news?"

Her husband was happy to accommodate her. He turned back to Connor and explained he had also received news from an emissary sent by a laird living on the border. Connor seemed interested and asked several questions. One topic led to another and another, and it wasn't long before Brenna and Jamie were all but forgotten.

Brenna put her concerns about pleasing Connor's stepmother aside for the moment, though she did say a quick prayer the woman wouldn't arrive before she did. Brenna wanted to get her bearings.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard Jamie trying to coax her little daughter to join them. Brenna quickly shook her head at her, for she feared Grace would innocently say something to prick the men's curiosity and inadvertently sway the outcome in Jamie's favor. Thus far, Brenna was winning their wager, as neither brother had said a word about her injury. She gave Jamie a sinfully gloating look before she devoured all the food that had been placed in front of her.

Alec waited until the trenchers were taken away before turning to his wife. "I've been meaning to ask why…"

Her laughter stopped him. He waited for her to control herself before he continued. "How can you find my question amusing when you've yet to hear it?"

"Pray forgive me, Alec. What were you going to ask?"

"Why is my daughter sitting all the way down at the end of the table? I can barely see her from here."

Everyone turned to Grace. The little girl didn't seem to be bothered by all the attention she was getting. She smiled for her papa's benefit and continued to stare at him.

"Brenna, would you like to answer Alec's question?"

"No."

"You do not deny my brother," Connor explained.

"She just did deny him," Jamie remarked before she laughed again.

Brenna believed Jamie's behavior was a direct violation of the rules they'd established because she was deliberately tempting the men's curiosity with her laughter. She wasn't about to let her get away with it. "Jamie, I believe you should go to the kitchens and thank Elyne for this meal."

"If I leave, you're coming with me."

"Neither one of you needs to get up," Connor interjected. "Elyne and two other servants are watching us from the back hallway. You can give them your praise from here."

"Will you try to control yourself?" Alec demanded when his wife was overcome with laughter again.

Brenna bounded to her feet. "Thank you for this fine meal. Will you excuse me?"

She didn't wait to gain permission. Jamie jumped to her feet next and hurried after Brenna.

Connor heard his wife accuse Jamie of cheating and almost dropped his goblet. He hoped to God Alec hadn't heard the comment. Then, when Brenna stopped in front of the hearth to make the sign of the cross before continuing, Alec was so appalled he knocked his empty goblet over.

Jamie found Brenna's show of respect hilarious. Her laughter followed her out the front doors.

Alec waited until the servants had skirted their way past the table and had hurried after their mistress before turning to Connor.

"We really should be offended."

"Yes, we should. How do you think Brenna was injured, and why in God's name are the two of them pretending nothing happened?"

"There's only one quick way to find out."

"How?"

Alec smiled. "Grace?"

"Yes, Papa?"

"Come and sit with your father."

"When I'm ready, can I come sit with you?"

"You're ready now, Grace."

The little girl kept her head down and walked as though she were on her way to a bath. Connor winked at her as she passed him.

Alec swept her up into his arms, kissed her brow, and sat her down on the edge of the table. He then ordered her to tell him what had happened.

"The lady yelled at Mama."

"Her name is Brenna, Grace. Now tell me the truth."

"She probably is telling the truth," Connor interjected.

"And what did your mother do?"

"She cried."

Alec looked at Connor. "None of this surprises you, does it?"

"No."

"Mama yelled too, Papa."

"What did you do, Grace?"

"Nothing."

Alec didn't believe that nonsense for a minute. "What more do you have to tell me?"

"The lady laughed when Mama cried again." She was so happy she'd remembered, she scrunched up her shoulders with pleasure.

"Connor, I'm going to have to address Brenna's appalling lack of respect for my wife. I mean to talk to her."

"You will not offend her, Alec."

"The lady didn't cry, Papa."

"Is that so," Alec said.

"Mama put a needle in the lady's head."

"How did Brenna hurt herself?" Connor asked.

"She fell down the steps."

"What the hell was she doing on the steps?"

"Connor, you won't get any answers from my daughter by shouting at her," Alec said. "Remember how young she is."

"I thought you said this would be quick."

"The lady Brenna told Mama she was out of her mind."

"Tell me why she was on the steps," Alec ordered.

"I love you, Papa."

The ploy didn't work. Neither did the child's attempt to wiggle out of her father's arms. "Answer me, Grace."

"She had to catch me."

Alec could picture in his mind exactly what had happened. Connor was at a disadvantage because he'd left Alec's household long before Grace was born and, therefore, didn't know about the child's history of mischief.

"I still don't understand how Brenna could have lost her footing," Connor said.

"Grace, tell your uncle how she caught you," her father instructed.

The little girl was thrilled to have both her father's and her uncle's attention. She put her feet down on his lap, stretched her arms up above her head, and tried to leap up in the air in an attempt to reenact the event.

Alec held on to his daughter and gently forced her to sit back down again.

"You're going to be the death of me, Grace," he muttered with a shake of his head.

"I know, Papa. You already told me before. Lots of times."

"She'll be the death of your dear wife too, Laird," the cook remarked as she hurried back toward the kitchens.

Alec turned to the older woman. "My daughter catapulted herself off that top step, didn't she, Elyne?"

"I didn't see it happen, Laird, but my mistress did tell me Grace came flying down the stairs, and with as much speed as a stone hurling down from the top of a tower. Lady Brenna had to jump up so she could catch her."

"They both could have broken their necks."

"Aye, they could have, Connor," Alec agreed before turning back to the loyal servant. "Explain why our wives don't want us to know what happened."

Elyne couldn't refuse her laird's command and quickly told him about the wagering.

The brothers weren't at all amused by their wives' bet. They were, however, willing to go along with them.

Jamie and Brenna joined them a few minutes later. Both husbands stood up when the ladies entered the hall, but after being ignored for several minutes, they sat back down. Alec poured wine into their goblets. He downed his drink in one long swallow.

Brenna had already gained Alec's loyalty as soon as she married his brother. She received his devotion the minute he found out she'd saved his precious daughter from a serious injury, and she won his admiration and love when he heard her tell Jamie she must immediately remove the tapestry. Jamie vehemently refused.

"Then at least remove the yellow threads of the halo as soon as possible. You cannot saint William the Conqueror just because you think he should be a saint. It's a sacrilege."

"William will be a saint just as soon as the church gets around to it."

Brenna shook her head. "No wonder your husband looked like he was staring at the devil. Why in heaven's name would you hang the former king of England in the home of a Highlander? Even I know he doesn't belong here. You must take it down, Jamie. Good Lord, I've been making the sign of the cross every time I pass in front of him, and if that isn't a blasphemy, I don't know what is. Are there any of your kings you could hang?"

"Why would I want to?"

"Why? Because you're a Highlander, that's why."

"You don't know, do you? Brenna, I was born in England, raised there too."

Needless to say, she took the wind out of Brenna's argument with her startling revelation. Jamie laughed over the upset she'd just given her new sister.

"You sound like a Highlander, and no one told me you were…" Brenna paused to glare at her husband. "You could have told me."

"No, I don't suppose Connor would tell you. You might as well accept the fact that men never tell their wives anything without prodding, Brenna. My news should please you, though, not anger you."

Brenna finally managed to stop frowning at her husband. "I am pleased. No wonder I like you so much."

"You'll like Mary too. Alec, do you realize how blessed I am? I have a sister on each side of my land now."

"Aye, you do," Alec agreed.

"Connor, Brenna must meet Mary as soon as possible."

"Could we stop on our way home?" Brenna asked.

"It's too late to make another stop," Connor answered.

Determined not to let him dampen her enthusiasm, she hurried over to the table and put her hand on his shoulder. "Another time then?"

"Yes."

She patted him to let him know how much she appreciated his cooperation. Alec turned as he stood up so Brenna wouldn't see him smile. He was pleased to see she was affectionate toward his brother, but what made him smile was the fact that he knew Connor was trying not to like it.

Connor shook his head at his brother. "Don't make more of this than it is," he remarked as he reached around his back to move his wife so he wouldn't knock her over when he stood up.

Alec nodded. "I would suggest you not make less of this than it is."

Brenna didn't have any idea what the two men were talking about. Alec abruptly changed the subject before she asked him to explain.

"You'd best keep a close lookout on your way home."

"Connor always has his guard up," she said.

"That is so," Alec agreed before issuing a second warning to his brother. "He could be waiting on your land even now."

"Ah, Alec, you do give me hope."

"Your arrogance is going to get you killed. We both know he'll want her back."

Brenna suddenly realized who the brothers were talking about. She let out a gasp, grabbed hold of Connor's arm, and whispered, "The pig MacNare?"

Her husband smiled. God love her, she was beginning to realize how fortunate she was to have married him. "Yes, the pig MacNare."

"You won't, will you?"

"I won't what?"

She leaned into his side so she couldn't be overheard. "Give me back."

His smile vanished. "What do you think?"

"You won't."

His brisk nod told her she'd made the right guess. He put his arms around her shoulders and squeezed her to let her know he approved of her answer.

She tried to hide her exasperation. It was difficult, given the fact that her husband was now trying to defend her behavior to his brother.

"My wife meant no offense to me. She's English, if you'll remember, and therefore doesn't understand."

"What don't I understand?"

Alec answered her. "We keep what belongs to us, and we protect our wives. You don't understand your worth yet, do you, Brenna?"

"No, she doesn't," Connor answered.

"Englishmen also protect what belongs to them." She told them what should have been obvious. "The barons are just as possessive."

"Then why are you here, lass?" Alec asked. "Did your father protect you by sending you to marry MacNare?"

"One has nothing to do with the other, Laird."

"How is it different?" he asked.

Both brothers would think her father had been motivated by greed if she explained his reason, and she knew she would never be able to convince them her dear father loved his daughters.

"I'm here because I wish to be here. When I asked my husband if he would give me back, I only wanted to hear his assurance. I already knew he wouldn't," she boasted.

"Because you received the church's approval with the priest's blessing?" Alec asked.

He was already nodding when she told him no. "Connor would have gotten around to getting a priest to bless us. Many marriages begin without a blessing because there are so few confessors available."

Connor knew she was struggling to be diplomatic, and he smiled. She was about to lose her patience now, and from the way Alec was questioning her, Connor knew Alec was curious to see what she would do.

Alec was enjoying himself, and with each of her frowns and hesitant answers, he was actually finding out far more about her than she could possibly realize.

"Then how did you know Connor wouldn't give you back?" Alec persisted. "Did you understand him so well?"

"No, I didn't understand him at all. I had, of course, noticed how stubborn he was," she added when she remembered how she'd argued with Connor to get him to change his mind, and how he'd refused to listen to a word she said. "However, my parents taught all of their children to stand on their own two feet. My family, you see…"

Connor interrupted her. "We are your family now."

"Yes, but my sisters and brothers…"

He once again interrupted her. "Jamie and Alec are your sister and brother now."

"And Raen," Alec interjected.

Connor nodded. "Yes, Raen," he agreed. "It's been such a long time since I last saw him, I sometimes forget about him."

"Connor, why don't you let me talk about my family?"

"We're your family now," he gently corrected.

Alec understood exactly what his brother was doing and fully supported him. Connor wanted to help his wife become loyal to him and his followers, of course, and let go of the past, and though Alec thought Connor wasn't as subtle as he had been when he'd helped Jamie get over her homesickness, he couldn't fault his brother. 'Twas the truth, Connor still wasn't capable of being subtle.

Disheartened to realize her husband was trying to make her pretend her family didn't matter, she decided to go outside and ignore him for a few minutes and try to figure out his reason for being so cruel. She was going to have to remove Connor's arm from around her shoulders first, of course, but when she tried to do just that, she realized she was holding the Kincaid plaid she'd folded and kept on her lap through supper. She tucked the blanket under her arm with the intention of putting it down on one of the stools as soon as Connor let go of her, and then reached up to nudge him away from her.

He caught hold of her hand and held tight. She tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip. She was quite helpless now, and he knew it. She gave him a quick frown to let him know what she thought about his behavior.

He winked at her.

Alec was trying hard not to laugh. The look she'd just given Connor did amuse him, though. He recognized it too, for it was similar to the wait-until-I-get-you-alone expression his Jamie often cast him when she was dying to voice her opinion and knew she shouldn't.

"You've still to appease my curiosity, Brenna," Alec told her.

She forced a smile for the laird and tried to remember what they'd been talking about. Connor had winked at her. What in heaven's name had come over him?

"Brenna, answer my brother," Connor instructed.

God help her, his eyes had turned so wonderfully warm. Why did such a handsome warrior have to be so difficult all the time? She let out a little sigh while she thought about that.

"I would be happy to answer your brother."

Both brothers waited a good long while for her to do just that. Alec took mercy on her before Connor did. He reminded her of their topic.

"You were about to explain how you knew Connor wouldn't give you to MacNare."

"It's simple, really. I wouldn't let him."

"Of course you wouldn't," Jamie interjected just to show she supported Brenna's belief.

Alec laughed. His reaction puzzled Brenna. Connor didn't laugh; he did smile, though, and she found his reaction just as bewildering.

Connor was still smiling as he pulled her behind him to the doors leading outside. He was just about to dismiss the matter from his mind when she asked him why her answer had amused him.

"I wasn't amused. I was pleased."

"All right," she agreed. "Why were you pleased?"

"Because you believe you're strong enough to enforce your decisions."

Jamie came up behind the two of them and gained Connor's full attention when she told him he was wrong. "She doesn't believe she's strong enough to enforce her wants on you. I believe she realizes she's intelligent enough to find another way to get whatever she wants."

"Our fathers didn't raise ignorant daughters, and it's your mistake to believe otherwise," Brenna said.

"Isn't that so?" Jamie asked her husband, who stood behind her.

Alec knew better than to disagree with his wife, as the issue seemed important to her. "Yes, that is so."

Connor held one of the doors open for his wife. Jamie gave Brenna a farewell hug, then wrapped her arms around Connor, whispered something into his ear that made him smile, and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

"Come home more often," she ordered him before moving away from the door so they could go outside.

Quinlan's eyes widened in disbelief the second he saw his mistress. She noticed his concern, shook her head at him, and pulled her hair down to hide her stitches. Quinlan didn't say anything.

They all noticed how she favored her left side coming down the steps. Connor tried to be gentle with her when he lifted her onto her horse, but she still grimaced in pain.

Connor's farewell to his brother made her forget about her discomfort. She almost laughed out loud, so amusing was his action, for instead of bowing to his brother or grasping his hand to say his good-bye, he slammed the flat of his hand against his shoulder. Alec pounded him back. Once the barbaric show of affection was finished, Connor swung up behind Brenna and put his arm around her waist.

He leaned down close to her ear and whispered, "You've only a short ride before you're home."

Alec patiently stood by their side, waiting until his wife had finished saying her good-byes and gone back inside to find Grace. As soon as the door closed behind her, he turned to Brenna. His expression showed his amusement. "My daughter has a special fondness for her plaid."

"Is that so?" she asked, wondering why he wanted to discuss Grace's blanket now.

Alec nodded. "She can tell hers from another by the scent. At least that is what my wife believes. Jamie must be right, because Grace knows when one has been substituted for another. She likes to wrap herself up in the blanket while she sleeps. She'll have need for it tonight, Brenna, or my wife and I will get little rest."

Connor could tell from his wife's puzzled expression she didn't understand what Alec was asking. "He wants you to give it back, Brenna," he said.

Her face turned the color of a sunburn in less time than it took to blink. She almost dropped the plaid when she moved her elbow away and handed it to Alec. "I can't imagine how I forgot to put it down on the stool. I did have every intention of doing just that, but I became involved in our discussion and must have…"

She stopped trying to come up with a logical explanation for her behavior when Alec put his hand on top of hers. He looked as though he wanted to say something important to her, and she instinctively tensed in anticipation.

"My wife will be over the first of the week to plant your flowers, Brenna."

"Thank you, Laird."

"Alec was thanking you," Connor told her.

"I realize that. I was thanking him for showing me such kindness."

"If I were not so grateful to you for coming to my daughter's assistance, I would have to take issue with you for believing Connor and I wouldn't notice anything was amiss. We notice everything."

"For two intelligent women, you both misjudged us," Connor said.

"Aye, you did," Alec agreed. He removed his hand and stepped back. "You do understand that it was our decision that allowed you to win your wager, but you need not thank us for our thoughtfulness.''

She laughed again. "You believe you let me win? I think not, Laird."

He raised his eyebrow. "We deliberately pretended not to notice."

"That is so," she agreed. "And you would be right to believe you favored the outcome if your observation had been what we wagered about. Jamie and I knew you would notice."

"What was the wager over?" Connor asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.

"Jamie was sure you wouldn't be able to keep silent and would demand to know what happened as soon as you looked at me. I wagered you wouldn't say a word, and if my memory serves me, I do believe that is exactly what happened."

"One is the same as the other," Connor argued.

"Is it?" she asked with an innocent smile and a look that told him she thought he was wrong.

"Admit it, Connor. The victory belongs to Brenna," Alec conceded.

"It does," Connor agreed.

"Will Jamie bring Grace with her when she plants my flowers?"

"No, I don't let my children leave my land. Connor, I'll be riding with my wife. I expect you to be there."

Alec shoved him once again to show his affection, before striding back toward his home. Grace must have been waiting just inside the doors, for as soon as Alec pulled one open, she ran to him and snatched her blanket out of his hand.

Once she and Connor were on their way, Brenna made herself more comfortable by shifting her weight on his lap and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"I was sorry I didn't get to say good-bye to Grace."

"She's busy explaining her conduct to her father now."

"What will he do to her? It was an accident, Connor. Surely Alec won't hurt her tender feelings."

"She and Dillon are not allowed upstairs alone. Alec will simply remind Grace to obey his orders."

"Are the other children as carefree?"

"No. The boys are shy of strangers, but God help you once they get used to you. They're far more devilish than Grace is."

"I fear she will always be my favorite."

Connor was deliberately trying to keep up the idle conversation so Brenna wouldn't notice the number of Kincaid soldiers riding escort. He didn't want her to become concerned about Alec's reasons. She might even assume MacNare was somehow responsible for his brother's outrageously protective gesture.

He knew he was going to have to put up with his brother's interference. He wasn't happy about it, though. Neither was Quinlan, but unlike his laird, he wasn't trying to hide his irritation.

"I would not make a favorite of one of my children," she assured him.

He didn't have anything to say about that. She wanted to keep him talking, in hopes that the conversation would take her mind off the pain nagging her now. Her head was throbbing, and her thigh was once again burning something fierce.

He realized what her goal was as soon as she shifted position in his lap again.

"I had already left home before Dillon and Grace were born," he remarked. "I am closest to Mary Kathleen, as I know her better than the others. Still, I will admit I have a special fondness for Grace, but only because she reminds me of someone else."

She tried to look up at him, but he gently pushed her face against his chest so she couldn't. She pinched him to let him know how much she disliked that and then asked him to tell her who Grace reminded him of.

"A child I once held in my arms."

He wouldn't tell her anything more, but the memory of the child he'd held had pleased him. The warmth in his voice told her so.

"Are you pleased Euphemia is coming to visit?"

"Yes. You aren't, though, are you?"

"Of course I am," she argued. "I'm just a little… apprehensive about meeting her. It's very important to win her approval," she added. "She's your mother, after all, and it would be very upsetting if she didn't like me."

"Why?"

She couldn't believe he needed to ask. "Because there must be harmony in your household, that's why, and it's up to me to see to her wishes. While she's in your home, she's mistress. Surely you understand now."

"You worry about every little thing. She'll like you just fine."

She wasn't as certain as Connor was, but she vowed to win Euphemia's love. Several minutes passed as she thought about different ways she could please the woman, and then she put the worry aside and moved on. She tried to think about the lovely time she'd had visiting with Jamie as a means of taking her mind off the pounding her thigh was taking. It didn't work.

"It's a good day for a walk, isn't it?"

He didn't answer her. She wasn't deterred. "I believe I'd like to walk for a little while. It will be nice to stretch my legs."

"No." He softened his denial by brushing his chin across the top of her head. "Would it help if I carry you facedown across my lap?"

His suggestion horrified her. She pictured herself flung over his knees with her head hanging down on one side of the stallion and her feet dangling down on the other, and she thought she might die of mortification then and there.

What a wonderful way that would be for her to meet his followers. "I cannot imagine what you think to help with your suggestion. I'm perfectly fine, thank you. I merely thought a walk would be invigorating on such a fine day. Forget I mentioned it."

She had placed pride above comfort, just as he had expected her to do. He moved his hand under her skirts to find out for himself the extent of her injury. He considered stopping to take a look, but quickly discarded the idea. Getting her cooperation would take him an hour, and in another ten minutes, they would reach the division between the lands and be home at last.

His touch felt like a caress. Still, she didn't like it. She went completely still and whispered, "Remove your hand."

"You've got a fair-sized bruise, don't you? Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt at all. Please remove your hand. It's embarrassing."

Connor conceded.

"An Englishman would give his wife a little sympathy," she muttered.

"I'm not English."

"No, you're not," she agreed. "May I ask you questions about your home?"

"Yes."

"First, please tell me when we'll reach your land."

"Look to the rise above you and you'll see my sentries watching us."

She immediately straightened her appearance. She ran her fingers through her hair to get the tangles out, bumped Connor's shoulder as she smoothed her curls behind her, fixed the pleats of her plaid to her satisfaction, and pinched color into her cheeks.

"What in God's name are you doing?"

"Pinching myself."

He told himself not to ask. He did anyway.

"Because I don't want to look pale."

He shook his head. He had never heard of anything so preposterous.

"How long before we reach your fortress?" she asked.

"Very soon."

"Do you mean to tell me we live close to Alec and Jamie?"

"Yes."

"Will I be able to visit as often as I wish?"

"Yes."

Her enthusiasm made her forget her pain. He explained he hadn't built his home in the center of his property, but near the edge of his brother's land, instead. She assumed he'd done so to please Alec.

The MacAlister soldiers let out a cheer in greeting when their laird raised his hand.

"Do they always cheer you when you return home?"

"No, only when I've been away a long time."

"How long were you away then?"

"Almost three weeks."

What had he been doing all that while? She was just about to ask him when she remembered the blue paint on his face. She promptly changed her mind. If she found out he'd been raiding, her good mood would be ruined. She'd ruin his as well because she would feel compelled to let him know what she thought about that barbaric pastime.

She noticed how the soldiers stared at her when they rode past, and even though she smiled at them, they didn't smile back. She started worrying in no time at all.

"Will your followers dislike me because I was supposed to marry MacNare?"

"No."

"None of the six soldiers we just passed smiled at me."

"Of course they didn't."

"Why not?"

"Because you're my wife. They'll honor you."

"And if I'm not worthy of their honor?"

"You are."

She thought that was a very thoughtful, kind thing to say to her, and since Connor wasn't a thoughtful or kind man, she immediately became suspicious.

"Why?"

"Because I chose you."

"I chose you, remember?"

"You like to argue with me, don't you?"

She didn't believe his question merited an answer. "Will I like your home?"

"Of course."

"I can't wait to see it. Is it as appealing as Alec's home? I won't be disappointed if it isn't," she hastened to add. "I don't need it to be grand. Is it?"

Her enthusiasm made him smile. "Yes, it's just as appealing as my brother's home."

"You're proud of it, aren't you? I can hear it in your voice."

"I suppose I am."

"Is the hall as large as Alec's? I won't mind if it isn't."

"Because you don't need it to be as large."

"Yes."

"I cannot say for certain if it's as large. I've never taken the time to notice."

"What makes your home so appealing?"

"It's secure."

What did secure have to do with appearance? "But what does it look like?"

"Invincible," he answered.

She wasn't getting anywhere with him. She would have to wait and see for herself, she decided.

He thought he'd told her everything she needed to know. Although he felt his home was invincible, there was still work to be done on the wall. He was going to reinforce the wood with stone as his brother had suggested, and add yet another platform on the northern peak.

Brenna's excitement mounted as they rode along, and her mood was so improved, she couldn't stop smiling.

Connor's mood darkened as soon as the ruins of his father's home came into view.

"Who lived here?" she whispered as she stared at the charred remains of the vast structure.

"My father."

"Did he die there?"

"Yes."

"Did you live there with him?"

"Yes."

The coldness in his voice told her he didn't want to be questioned about his past. She had every intention of finding out everything she could about her husband so she would be able to understand how he had become such a hard, rigid man, but she knew she would have to be patient and undemanding, or he would never open his heart to her. She would first prove to him that she could be trusted, and eventually he would soften his attitude and begin to confide in her.

She couldn't stop staring at the destruction. Even after they had ridden past, she leaned into Connor's side so she could look behind him to study it.

She had seen the results of fire before, but there was something puzzling about the MacAlister ruin. It took her several minutes before she finally figured out what was missing. The burned crofter's cottage she'd once seen had quickly been overgrown by weeds. This ruin wasn't. There was a forest on three sides of it, yet not one vine had reached the hollowed-out remains. Obviously it had been carefully maintained, and perhaps that was why it seemed so eerie to her.

Why hadn't Connor ordered it torn down? Had he left it to be a reminder to himself and his followers? Patience, she reminded herself. In time she would have her answers.

She straightened up and turned around again. She slipped her hand into his free one, leaned back against him, and said a prayer for his father's soul. She added another one for his dear mother.

Her new home came into view a minute later. She started praying for herself then. She closed her eyes too, frantically hoping that what she believed she'd seen she really hadn't seen at all, but when she gathered enough courage to look again, the monstrous thing was still there, looming over her from the top of a hill like an angry gargoyle.

God really must have been furious with her to have put her in such an ugly place. She must have caused her parents far more worry than she'd ever realized, and saying that she was sorry hadn't been enough to appease him.

Get hold of yourself, she ordered. God wasn't responsible for this fortress; Connor was.

She took a deep breath and told herself to find something nice about her new home. She would study the fortress from bottom to top, and when she was finished, by God, she would be smiling with excitement.

It was gigantic. That was nice, wasn't it? It was, if bigger was indeed better, as Connor obviously believed.

It was also tall. The fortress was at least three-stories high, perhaps even four, though it was difficult to tell because she couldn't seem to find any windows to give her hints.

Still, it was big. And tall.

She finally spotted the windows. Relieved to see them, she felt like weeping with gratitude. She wasn't going to have to live inside a tomb after all. The windows were there all right, but they'd been covered with an ugly brown fabric, which actually matched the color of dried mud rather nicely; though why in God's name anyone would want them to was beyond her. She would take them down as soon as possible, and then it wouldn't look so bad, would it?

Of course it would. Flowers weren't going to help. She would need a miracle to turn this thing into a home.

She felt ashamed of herself. She wasn't concerned only about appearances, and she must adjust her attitude at once. She would start by calling the hideous monstrosity her home.

"Brenna, is something wrong?"

"Why would you think something was wrong?"

"You're panting, like you can't catch your breath."

She said the first thing that came into her mind. Thankfully, it wasn't a lie. "Your home has taken my breath away."

She probably should add a compliment or two so that Connor would know she appreciated his efforts. He was proud of his fortress, and a good wife would at least try to feel the same.

"It's very big."

He didn't have anything to say about that.

"Why, I don't believe I've ever seen one as big. It's also tall, isn't it?"

He didn't have anything to say about that either.

"Have you finished it then?"

"Are you asking if the back of the fortress is finished?"

No, she hadn't even thought about the back of the keep. She wanted to know if he'd finished the front. "Is it?"

"Yes."

"I see," she replied for lack of anything better to say. "Your rampart is very impressive, isn't it?"

"Perhaps."

"It's at least fifteen feet high. Odd that the wood turned such a brownish color, isn't it?"

He tightened his hold around her waist, pulled her back against his chest, and leaned down close to her ear. "Brenna?"

"Yes, Connor?"

"It's going to be all right."

It took her a full minute before she could nod her agreement. She added a silent prayer next for strength and endurance and vowed to make the best of her circumstances. She had never walked away from a difficult task before, and although the idea held a certain appeal now, she wouldn't give in to her hopelessness. Nothing was impossible to achieve if she worked hard enough and used the mind God had given her.

She felt better once her resolve was back in place, and after they'd crossed the drawbridge, she looked at her new home with renewed interest. She smiled for the benefit of his followers. Like the sentries, they didn't smile back. They didn't frown or turn their backs on her, though. Perhaps they didn't quite know what to make of her, she thought. She would have to convince them through her good works that she was worthy of their respect.

"You've enclosed half the mountain, haven't you?"

"It isn't a mountain, but a hill, wife."

"Why, there must be thirty huts inside the lower bailey alone, yet room for thirty more. Do your soldiers train inside the walls?"

"Sometimes," he answered as he led the way to the upper bailey.

Brenna tried to see everything at once.

Just before they reached the courtyard Connor called a halt. He dismounted and turned to assist her while he tried to answer the questions the men called out to him.

He had only just let go of his wife when the crowd surrounded him. Holding the stallion's reins behind his back, he started up the last of the incline. He assumed Brenna was right behind him, and when the reins were taken out of his hand, he thought Quinlan or Owen had taken over the duty of leading the horse to the stablemaster, for they were the only two soldiers the temperamental stallion would let near.

Men and women pushed forward to speak to their laird. Brenna kept backing away so she wouldn't get trampled. The stallion didn't like the crowd pressing in on him any more than she did and reared up in protest. She grabbed hold of his reins before he did any damage to anyone, and forced the animal to back up with her. She was nearly lifted off her feet a couple of times, then was pushed backward as the disgruntled beast tried to charge her. The training her brothers had forced on her came to her assistance now. She refused to give in to the animal's intimidating antics, and she tightened her hold on his reins and jerked his head down hard. After one last moment of struggle, the horse understood she meant to get her way.

She patted him to let him know she appreciated his cooperation and led him toward the stables.

A soldier stood on the steps leading up to the entrance until his laird beckoned him forward.

"All's well, Connor."

An immediate hush fell over the crowd as they listened to the conversation. "I expected it would be, Crispin. 'Tis the reason you were given command while I was away."

The two warriors stood eye to eye as they faced each other in the center of the courtyard.

"I have good news for you. Your stepmother is waiting in the great hall to greet you."

Connor smiled. "That is good news."

"Lady Euphemia's curiosity to see your wife must have been the motivation she needed to come back to MacAlister land."

"I would assume so. Perhaps she sees this as a new beginning, though in truth, I thought completing a new fortress would bring her back. Is she well, Crispin?"

"She seems to be well," he answered. "Connor, do I address her as Lady MacAlister?"

"You do. She was my father's wife and hasn't married again."

"She's still mourning him, for she's dressed in black," Crispin told him. "There is one more matter I wish to tell you about."

"Can it wait until later?"

"You'll want to hear this news now," he insisted. "Laird Hugh is sending something that was left on his border. He insists you'll want to see it. Whatever it is should be here within the hour."

"Hugh sends you a gift?" Quinlan asked his laird.

Crispin answered. "It's more of a message than a gift. I wasn't able to get anything more specific out of his soldiers. They were worried, however, and insisted several times that their laird is not responsible. It was extremely important to Hugh that Connor understand this."

"This makes little sense," Quinlan muttered. "Why wouldn't they tell you who it was from?"

"They wouldn't explain," Crispin replied.

"Then we'll wait and see," Connor replied.

He then smiled at his friend and, as Connor passed him on his way inside, pounded him on the shoulder to let him know he was pleased with him. Quinlan shoved Crispin in the hopes of getting him to lose his balance. Crispin held his ground and pretended boredom, but the glint in his brown eyes gave him away.

"You missed a fine time, Crispin. Aye, you should have been there to watch me wield my sword. It was a sight to see, and you would have learned a thing or two."

Crispin laughed. "I wouldn't have needed to touch my sword, for my hands are just as effective. Besides, I taught you everything you know. Isn't that true, Connor?" he called out.

"I do not involve myself in petty disputes, though I will admit I don't understand either one of your empty boasts. 'Tis a fact I trained both of you."

Crispin fully appreciated his laird's candor. He watched Connor slowly make his way through the clan to the side of the keep so he could go up the steps. The two soldiers were expected to follow their laird, as it had become a ritual for them to sit at the table with Connor while he caught up on the latest happenings within the clan. They stayed back now so that the other followers could have a turn greeting him.

Both Crispin and Quinlan kept glancing over their shoulders every now and again. Crispin was puzzled, for he had been on the walkway above the wall when his laird rode up to the drawbridge and had seen that he wasn't alone then. Why was he now?

Quinlan couldn't stop smiling. He knew exactly why his laird was alone.

Crispin's curiosity finally got the better of him when Connor started up the steps to go inside the keep. "Was your journey successful, Laird?" he shouted.

"It was," Connor called back.

"Then you did marry?"

"I did."

"Where might your bride be?"

Connor had assumed his wife was following behind him and was now being delayed by the clan. Honest to God, he hadn't give her another thought since Crispin began his report.

He scanned the crowd, looking for his wife. He spotted Owen smiling like a simpleton at the women surrounding him. Brenna was nowhere in sight, however.

"Why aren't you at the stables tending my horse, Owen?" Connor was halfway across the courtyard by the time he finished bellowing his question.

"Another took over the duty for me, Laird," Owen explained with a nervous glance toward Quinlan.

Connor turned to his friend. "Where is my wife, Quinlan?"

"I believe you left her in the lower bailey."

The crowd scattered in every direction as their laird came striding toward the path. The look on Connor's face suggested he didn't wish to be delayed. Crispin and Quinlan followed, but unlike their laird, they weren't scowling.

"Quinlan, how were you able to tend to my stallion and return to the courtyard in such a short time?"

"I didn't tend your stallion," he answered.

"Did Davis?" Connor asked just to make certain the stablemaster had come forward to take over the duty.

"No."

"Then who…"

"Another more capable than Davis led your stubborn beast away."

Connor heard the laughter in Quinlan's voice and knew there was something more to be told. He stopped worrying about Brenna being left alone with his stallion because he knew Quinlan wouldn't have been so damned happy if she'd been in any real danger.

"You forgot her, didn't you, Connor?"

"I did no such thing, Quinlan. Who was more capable than Davis? No more jests," he warned. "I'm not in the mood."

"I won't jest, but you still won't believe me. Your wife took over the duty."

"I don't believe you."

Quinlan nudged Crispin. "He did forget her," he whispered.

As soon as they reached the stables, Connor pulled the doors wide before either one of his soldiers could get ahead of him to see to the duty.

The stablemaster came running. He bowed to his laird and was about to welcome him back to the keep when Connor interrupted him.

"Davis, is my stallion in his stall?"

"He is, Laird, and as content as I've ever seen."

"Then you didn't have your usual difficulty getting him to settle down?"

"I was saved from the task by your lady. She certainly has a way with animals, Laird, but I'm sure you already knew that. She soothed the anger out of the beast in no time at all. Your stallion was happy to let her lead him to his quarters."

Connor knew Davis was telling him the truth, as difficult as it was to believe.

"Where is Lady MacAlister now?"

"She spotted Ewan's wife giving their bairn the afternoon air. I'm thinking that was where she was headed."

Connor nodded and walked away. He paused once when Davis called out, "You've chosen well, Laird."

Brenna had already left Ewan's cottage, however. While the blushing mother explained she'd been thrilled to have her mistress's undivided attention, she seemed far more interested in praising Brenna than in telling Connor where she'd gone.

"She insisted on holding the baby and didn't mind at all that he hadn't had his bath yet. She has a special way with children, Laird. My little one is usually suspicious of strangers, but he took to her right away. Your wife's a dear lass, and from England, of all scandalous places. She's thoughtful as can be. She hurried over to meet Brocca when she noticed her staring out at her through the window."

His patience was nearly gone by the time he finally caught up with Brenna. She had already left Brocca's cottage and was just about to knock on another door when he stopped her.

She didn't look especially pleased to see him. He couldn't believe she dared to trown at him after she'd caused him so much trouble.

"You forgot me, didn't you?" She folded her arms and continued to frown at him.

Connor wasn't at all impressed with the way she tried to intimidate him. He moved closer so that she was forced to tilt her head back in order to look up at him, and then said, "You will not take that tone with me."

She didn't back away as he expected her to do, but she did soften her voice when she next spoke to him. "May I speak plainly, Connor?"

"No, you may not. You may follow me back to the keep now, however."

He turned to leave. She stood her ground.

"Are you defying me?" he asked.

"No, Laird, I'm not defying you. I am waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"For you to admit you forgot me."

"I did no such thing."

"Then you do not plan to apologize?"

She saw the incredulous look that came over his face and knew the thought had never entered his mind. Dear heavens, changing Connor from a barbarian into a considerate husband was going to take every ounce of her patience. But, she had pushed him far enough today, and she didn't dare add another word of criticism until he'd recovered. In her estimation, it was a fair start.

Connor was considering tossing his wife over his shoulder and carrying her to the keep when she suddenly smiled at him and took hold of his hand. He didn't understand what had caused the transformation, but he didn't question her. He had pushed her far enough for one day, and now that he'd made her realize she must not challenge him or contradict him, he believed he'd made a fair start. He knew it was going to take him a long time to help her learn to be more disciplined.

As soon as he moved back toward the path, she noticed again the soldier standing next to Quinlan.

"Brenna, in future, don't make me chase after you."

She nodded agreement because her husband seemed to require it, then looked at Quinlan. "He did forget about me, didn't he?"

Connor squeezed her hand to let her know what he thought about her question.

"It would seem he did, mi'lady."

"Thank you for reminding him."

"I didn't," Quinlan replied, nodding to his left. "Crispin did."

She smiled at the soldier. "Thank you, Crispin." She would have officially introduced herself to the soldier, but he looked rather dazed, and she decided he was busy thinking about something more important.

Quinlan laughed at the expression on Crispin's face. His friend was looking quite stunned. "She takes your breath away, doesn't she, Crispin?"

The soldier nodded. He motioned to Quinlan to wait so that they could have a moment alone and follow at a more discreet distance.

"I've never seen Connor act this way. He doesn't usually allow any woman to make him lose his patience."

"She isn't just any woman. She's his wife. I think he likes having her around."

Crispin smiled. "I'd like having her around too, if I were married to her. She's very beautiful, isn't she? I don't think I've ever seen a woman so bonny."

"Connor doesn't notice."

The two men shared a laugh. Brenna glanced back over her shoulder to smile at them.

"Our mistress isn't easily intimidated." There was admiration in Crispin's voice when he made the remark.

"If she were the least bit timid, Connor would walk all over her. Do you remember what he told us about Isabelle?"

"He told us very little. He doesn't remember his mother."

"That is so, but he remembers every word his father said to him before he died."

Crispin nodded. "Donald called his wife his own sweet Isabelle. He loved her."

"Exactly so."

"But Donald cautioned his son not to make the same mistake."

"Connor knew he was only warning him to be careful. If you had seen the way the Lady Brenna and he looked at one another when they first met, you would conclude what I have."

"And what is that?"

Quinlan stared at Brenna as he gave his answer. "She's going to be Connor's own sweet love."

Crispin clasped his hands behind his back while he considered what Quinlan had just told him. Like his friend, he also wanted his laird to find peace and contentment. But love? He didn't know if Connor would ever let himself feel such an emotion.

"I've never heard you talk like this."

"I've never seen Connor act like this."

"Like what?"

Quinlan shrugged. "There have been sparks flying between the two of them from the very beginning. It's as though Connor were struck by a bolt. He's going to give his heart to her because he won't be able to stop it from happening. Quit frowning, Crispin. She has a good heart."

The two soldiers continued to follow behind the couple at a leisurely pace while Crispin caught Quinlan up on the latest news. Brenna didn't realize she was being discussed by the men, and she certainly didn't know she was being watched so closely. Connor was forcing her to run in order to keep up with him, and she soon decided she had had enough. She suddenly stopped. Connor was either going to have to drag her behind him or let go of her. She would leave the choice up to him.

"Why did you stop?"

"I got tired of running."

A smile softened his expression. "Why didn't you tell me to slow down?"

"I wanted to keep up. I didn't realize I was so weary this afternoon. I'm sure I'll recover after we have our supper. Could we sit a spell until then?"

He moved back to her side. "We already ate our evening meal, remember? You cannot still be hungry."

She shrugged. There really wasn't any use in pretending with her husband that she had a dainty appetite. "I could eat a little something," she admitted. "I was a bit nervous meeting Alec and by the time we sat down at the table, I couldn't concentrate on food. I barely ate a thing. I can't imagine why you're laughing, Connor. I haven't told you a jest."

He didn't apologize, of course. She doubted he ever would. He stopped laughing, though, and she was most appreciative.

"Would it help if I carried you?"

His suggestion didn't sit well with her. "And have your followers think you married a weakling? I'll crawl first."

She straightened her shoulders, tugged her hand away from his, and tried to hurry past him. She didn't get very far. He caught her around her waist and forced her into his side. He didn't have to tell her to lean against him. She was too weary to even consider struggling. She sagged against him and let out a little sigh. She didn't dare close her eyes for even a second for fear she'd fall asleep on her feet if she did. God only knew, she'd done it before.

"You've had a difficult day."

"No, I haven't."

"Do you have to disagree with everything I say?"

"I was simply giving you my opinion. We've yet to argue, Connor. Once we do, you'll know the difference. Please let go of me as soon as we reach the courtyard. I don't want your followers to think I can't stand without assistance."

In frustration, she threaded her fingers through her hair, then grimaced as she touched her injury. "I never seem to say the right thing to you. Everything's so different here. I don't like chaos, and it seems to me that my life has been extremely chaotic since I met you. I want to live in peace."

"It's going to become much easier for you now."

She didn't look as though she believed him. "Do you promise?"

He smiled. "I promise."

She managed to smile back and relax. He didn't know if it had been his calm voice or his promise that had soothed her.

"I don't like surprises," she remarked as she moved closer to his side again. "Unless, of course, I know about them in advance."

She sounded sincere enough for him to think she didn't realize she'd just contradicted herself. "If you know in advance, it isn't a surprise."

"Exactly so," she reasoned. "Tell me how it will become easier."

"You won't have to worry about pleasing me. I'm rarely here."

"I don't worry about pleasing you now. But I don't understand why you're rarely here. This is your home."

"Yes."

"And I'm here."

"I realize that. We'll see each other now and again."

They had finally reached the courtyard proper. It was deserted.

"You mentioned you would only be here every now and again?" she asked, sorry her voice sounded so strained.

His mind was on an entirely different matter. Crispin's report that their ally to the south wanted Connor to see something that had been left at his border had made him curious, and he was guessing what the something might be. Because of the life he'd led, he was naturally suspicious and had already concluded the surprise wasn't going to be welcome. He wasn't an impatient man when important issues were at stake, and so he once again decided to wait and see before he contemplated his response.

Brenna's question pulled him away from his thoughts. "Exactly how often is 'now and again'?"

"Once or twice a month."

"You're serious?"

"I am."

The more he told her, the less she wanted to hear. "A husband should be home with his wife more often than twice a month."

"I have other more important duties."

She felt as though he were abandoning her. Worse, she believed he was eager to do just that.

"Why bother to come back at all?"

He decided to ignore the anger in her voice. "Several reasons come to mind. The most compelling one is you."

A little of her irritation eased away. "Me?" she whispered, hoping he would redeem himself by giving her some praise.

"I want children."

She wanted to throttle him. "You mentioned you did."

"I'm pleased you remember."

"I remember everything you said to me: you married me to insult MacNare, and you'll be happy to take me back to England as soon as I give you a son. I doubt I'll ever forget those two important facts. Your reasons make me feel so very worthy."

"Would you rather I lied to you?"

She shook her head. "I would rather we never, ever talk about this again. You may explain your duties and your expectations the next time you happen to pass by the area. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go inside."

"I will call my followers together and introduce you to them as soon as Donald returns with the younger soldiers."

"You needn't go to any trouble, Connor. I already have one black mark against me; I might as well have another."

"What black mark?" he called out.

He stood in the center of the courtyard, his attention fully on his wife. Her behavior was most perplexing. She'd hurried on ahead of him, but hadn't gone to the steps leading inside the keep. No, she'd gone to the center of the wall and was now pacing back and forth along the front of the keep.

It was obvious he'd upset her, and while he knew he was fully responsible, he couldn't understand how it had happened. His goal had been to soothe her, yet one word had led to another, and before he realized what the outcome would be, she was getting teary eyed. He believed he'd been thoughtful by telling her he wouldn't be home very often. Yet she acted as though he'd just betrayed her. How in God's name would he ever make sense out of her?

"Explain this black mark," he ordered when she didn't immediately answer him.

"I'm English, for the love of God, and everyone knows I was on my way to marry MacNare. Surely you understand what I'm up against? Oh, and I'm clumsy too," she told her husband. "I forgot about that. What have you done with your steps? I can't seem to find them."

"They're on the side of the keep," he answered.

"I fell down Alec's steps, remember?"

Crispin had just caught up with Connor and turned to his laird. "Mi'lady fell down steps?"

"It seems she did," he replied.

Connor would have taken the time to explain if he hadn't noticed his wife was about to go around to the wrong side of the keep. "The steps are on the opposite side, Brenna."

She promptly turned around. "They're supposed to be in the center of the front, facing the courtyard. Everyone knows that is the fashion these days. I'm wanting to sleep in a bed tonight and not on the floor, Connor. Do you have beds inside?"

She finally looked at her husband so he would see her frown and realized she wasn't up to hearing any more of his plans about their future. Hearing he would stop by every once in a while was more than enough for her stomach in one day. She noticed Quinlan and Crispin were standing next to her husband and promptly changed her frown into a smile. No doubt about it, Connor was turning her into a shrew. God only knew how long his soldiers had been observing her rant and rave like a lunatic. Although it was probably too late to change their opinion of her, she decided to give it her best try.

"It's going to be a fine evening, isn't it?" she called out, pretending everything was as right as could be and she hadn't been acting like a madwoman seconds ago.

"If you think so, mi'lady," Crispin called back. "What just came over her?" he whispered to Quinlan.

"We did," he answered. "I believe she only just noticed us and doesn't want us to know her husband offended her."

"I didn't offend her."

"It would seem to me that you did."

Connor shoved his friend aside on his way to intercept his wife.

She kept on smiling, even when she reached the top of the stone steps and noticed there wasn't a landing to stand on. She backed down a step and reached forward to grasp the handle to the entrance.

The door wouldn't open. It was either bolted on the inside or reinforced with iron or steel. She put both hands to her task, added her muscle, and finally got it open a crack. It still wasn't wide enough for her to squeeze through without getting crushed.

Connor came to her assistance. He heard her muttering to herself as he came up the steps behind her. He put his arm around her waist, pulled her back against him, and reached over her shoulder to open the door with one quick flick of his wrist.

She couldn't help but be impressed by his strength. "I thought it was locked and didn't try to force it," she said so that he wouldn't think she was a weakling.

"It's open now."

He continued to wait for her to go inside. She continued to lean against him.

"Aren't you curious to see the inside?"

"Is it as grand as the outside?"

"Yes."

She had been afraid he would say that.

"What are you doing?"

Bracing myself, she admitted to herself before she told him an altogether different tale. "I'm letting my anticipation build. Shall we go inside?"

He rolled his eyes heavenward. She hurried across the threshold and came to an abrupt stop in the center of the entrance to wait until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She saw a soldier standing in front of double doors on her left, bowed to him, and then looked around with interest.

It was bad all right, but not as bad as she had imagined it would be. There were stone steps directly in front of her, a stone wall on her right. She assumed she was on the main floor and the bedchambers were on the floor above. She was curious to see the hall, of course, but when she turned to go through the double doors, Connor took hold of her arm to stop her.

"You won't ever go in there," he explained as he guided her toward the steps.

"Why won't I?"

"The higher ranking soldiers are inside. Do you want me to carry you upstairs?"

He didn't give her time to decide. He had lifted her into his arms and had reached the door at the top before she could answer him.

Another sentry stood guard on a landing that was so narrow, he had to come down a step in order to open the door.

Connor nodded to the soldier before striding inside. He put her down in the entrance and quickly explained where everything was located.

The great hall was to the left of the entrance and directly above the soldiers' quarters. It was quite large, though it wasn't nearly as large as Alec Kincaid's, and it was sparsely furnished.

Directly across from the entrance was a large stone hearth built into the wall. Though a fire blazed to take the chill from the air, it wasn't proving effective. Three windows covered with ugly brown fabric ran along one of the walls, and there was a long table with twin benches flanking either side.

The hall was as welcoming as a coffin. Brenna knew she was going to have to make some changes as soon as possible. She would start by placing rushes on the wooden floors and hanging several brightly colored banners and tapestries on the stark walls. A pretty cloth would hide the scarred tabletop, and cushions placed on the hard benches would make sitting more comfortable.

She pictured what the hall could look like and was suddenly eager to get started.

"May I add a few touches here and there, Connor?" In her excitement, she clasped her hands together and smiled up at him while she waited to receive his permission.

"This is your home, Brenna. You may do whatever you want to do."

"May I kiss you?"

The question caught him off guard. "Have you forgotten you're irritated with me?"

"No, I haven't forgotten, but my irritation is gone now. You do know why, don't you?"

Her voice had dropped to a whisper. He responded in kind. "No, I don't know why," he replied, a hint of a smile in his eyes.

"Because we're standing together for the first time in our home, and I realize that this is the perfect time for us to start over. You should kiss me now."

"We cannot start over whenever the mood strikes you."

She reached up to cup the back of his head in her hands and drew him down for a kiss. Her lips brushed over his in a quick, gentle caress meant to torment him. She wanted him to kiss her back, of course, and when he didn't cooperate, she brushed her lips over his once again.

"It's a new beginning," she explained in a whisper.

He continued to resist, although in truth he had stopped paying attention to what she was saying. He wanted only to benefit from his wife's arousing methods of trying to sway him.

She wasn't being at all subtle, which of course was exactly why he was enjoying himself, and as she began to tug on his lower lip to get a reaction, he knew he would soon let her win. He pulled her into his arms, pressed her body against his, and slowly shook his head at her.

"No, we can't start over."

Her eyes sparkled with devilment. "Ah, Connor, we already have."

The kiss she gave him then was altogether different from the one before. Her kiss wasn't playful now, but demanding, and the second she opened her mouth for him and began to tease him with her tongue, he took absolute possession.

He might have laughed, he couldn't remember, for this was the first time Brenna had consciously set out to tempt him. She still didn't understand the physical power she had over him, and he hoped to God she never did. She was simply tempting him to take what he would now, and in her innocent flirtation, she was actually showing him the extent of her affection for him.

He heard her low moan of pleasure, felt her tighten her hold around his neck, and was arrogantly satisfied to know that while he was completely in control of his emotions, his wife soon would not be of hers. Brenna was honest and forthright in everything she did, and in a world filled with deceit, where what wasn't said was often far more important than what was, he found himself drawn to Brenna's simplistic view.

Connor didn't consciously let himself get caught up in the moment, yet that was what happened all the same. Passion was suddenly burning inside of him, and one kiss no longer satisfied him. He wanted it all.

Just as he was making up his mind to take her upstairs and bed her, she abruptly ended the kiss by turning her face away. Her voice was a ragged whisper against his ear as she explained. "We aren't alone."

"No one would dare intrude without gaining permission," he told her as he tried to kiss her again.

"Someone's watching us, Connor. Please let go of me."

He did as she asked and then turned to confront the intruder.

Euphemia was standing on the landing above the steps leading to the bedrooms. Connor's expression changed in the blink of an eye. He smiled with true joy, and Brenna found herself smiling in reaction.

"It's good to see you again, Euphemia," he called out, his great affection for the woman apparent in his voice.

Brenna's knees almost buckled. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. Euphemia couldn't be here. She was due to arrive tomorrow, not today, but she was here now, and had just observed her stepson's disgustingly undisciplined wife throwing herself at him.

Brenna considered kicking her husband because he hadn't bothered to tell her Euphemia had arrived, but didn't give in to the urge because she wanted the woman to like her, not despise her.

First impressions were often wrong. Brenna tried to keep that fact in mind as she stared up at Connor's stepmother. Euphemia appeared to be as old as the pines. She reminded Brenna of a crow, as she was dressed in black and seemed to be perched on the top step, with her shoulders hunched forward and her gaze intent, penetrating, almost piercing as she watched Connor walk toward her.

Brenna was instinctively wary of the woman, but before she could berate herself for being frightened and having such uncharitable thoughts about the elderly woman's appearance, she witnessed a startling transformation overtake Euphemia. The woman suddenly straightened up to her full height, which surely made her nearly as tall as Connor. She threw her shoulders back and glided down the steps with the grace and elegance one would expect from a queen. The smile she gave Connor softened the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and no one would have noticed then the maze of deep creases mapping her face. Brenna was captivated by the sincerity she saw in Euphemia's eyes.

The change in her stunned Brenna. Euphemia was still old, of course, but she wasn't any older than Brenna's own dear mother. Grieving had obviously left its cruel marks on the woman, seemingly aging her far beyond her actual years, and, oh, how she must have loved Connor's father to have been so devastated by his death. Both the gray hair and the wrinkles carved in her face gave testimony to the pain the poor woman had endured.

Brenna's heart went out to her. She wanted to help ease her sorrow in any way that she could. Connor called Brenna's name then and she hurried forward. As soon as he finished introducing her, she bowed low to Euphemia and said how pleased she was to meet her. Euphemia's smile was somewhat guarded, Brenna noticed, but Connor's wife still felt she had been found acceptable.

"The pleasure is mine," Euphemia said, surprising Brenna once again, because her voice was that of a young woman, and now that Brenna looked closely at her, she realized his stepmother had once been a very beautiful woman. She wasn't beautiful now.

"You are the reason I finally came back," Euphemia continued. "For I was quite eager to meet the woman who had at last captured Connor. I have been plaguing him for years to take a wife."

She turned to Connor once again. "Now I must work on getting Raen to marry. He's been even more resistant to the idea than you were. I fear he'll be an old man before he takes a bride."

Brenna stood by her husband's side, listening as the two of them discussed Raen's health and happiness. Connor wanted to find out who Raen was currently serving because he had heard he was no longer under Laird Ferson's command, but Euphemia skirted the issue by suggesting he speak to her son about such matters.

"Has Raen arrived yet?" Brenna asked.

"No," Euphemia answered. "My son will join me tomorrow."

Connor suggested they sit at the table and continue their conversation. Brenna followed behind her husband, smiling over the way Euphemia put her hand on Connor's arm and smiled so lovingly at him.

Euphemia continued to talk about Raen for several more minutes, and then she looked at Brenna, obviously waiting for her to say something. She blurted out the first thing that came into her head. "I'm eager to meet such a perfect man."

She realized she sounded derisive and was horrified. "You sound like my mother, Lady Euphemia. She also believes her sons are wonderful. She's right, of course, just as you are."

Euphemia nodded. "I am eager to see Raen," she said. "It's been over six months since he last visited me. He's terribly busy, and I diligently try not to meddle in his affairs."

"Was the journey difficult for you, madam?" Connor asked.

"I cannot lie and tell you it was easy," she replied. "Yet it was no worse than what I anticipated," she added, her gaze directed at Brenna now.

She thought it was sweet that Euphemia was thoughtfully including her. "How long have you been away?" she asked.

"Sixteen years, three months," she answered. "Some mornings it seems as though my Donald passed away just the day before, so overcome am I with sorrow."

Connor nodded with understanding. He noticed the tears in Euphemia's eyes and gently turned the conversation to lighter matters.

Brenna was happy to sit by her husband's side and listen. One topic led to another and another, and before Brenna realized it, a good hour had passed.

She would have been happy to sit there the rest of the night, because the look of peace on her husband's face was a worthy reward. She had never seen him this relaxed or content. He obviously loved this woman, certainly honored her, and had missed her terribly.

Her thoughts turned to her own dear mother then, and as she pictured their reunion one day in the future, tears sprang into her eyes. To stop herself from becoming melancholy, she quit thinking about her family and considered instead what she would like to eat for supper.

Euphemia pulled her back to the conversation at hand by calling her name.

"I beg your indulgence, but the journey here has left me weary. I'm not as young as I used to be, and even short rides tire me. I would like to retire for the night, if you will allow me to, and would appreciate a tray of light fare sent up to me."

Connor immediately stood up to assist his stepmother.

"May I help you get settled, Lady MacAlister?" Brenna asked.

"One of Connor's servants has already seen to the duty, child."

Brenna bowed to her and bid her good night. Connor suggested she wait in the hall for him until he returned from escorting Euphemia to her room. Brenna understood Connor's need to have a private moment with his stepmother and didn't mind at all that she had been excluded.

He was gone a long while. By the time he returned to the hall, her stomach was growling for food and she was so sleepy, she could barely hold her head up.

Her husband's manner was brisk now, and she noticed that though he'd had no difficulty whatsoever lingering during his reunion with his stepmother, he couldn't show his wife half as much consideration.

"There are four chambers upstairs, Brenna. The kitchens are in a separate building behind the hall, should you ever feel the need to go there."

He clasped hold of her hand and led her up the staircase. She was thankful the steps weren't nearly as steep as the ones leading up from the soldiers' quarters.

"Why is there a banister here and not below? Was there a reason for not building one?"

"Yes," he answered. "Are you really hungry?"

"I could eat a little something. I'm still waiting for you to tell me why there isn't a railing."

"It's easier to push soldiers down, that's why."

She thought he was jesting. When he didn't smile, she changed her mind. "That's rather impolite, isn't it?"

He didn't understand she was teasing him and apparently didn't feel her question merited an answer.

When they reached the landing, he motioned to the dark hallway behind her. "There are three chambers there. Our bedroom is on the other side of the landing, straight ahead of you."

She didn't move fast enough to suit him. He pulled her along and stopped only after they'd entered the chamber. The door slammed shut behind him with a resounding thud. It was completely dark inside. Connor crossed the chamber and pulled back the covering over the window to let the light come in.

Brenna let out a sigh of relief because the room wasn't nearly as bad as she thought it would be. There was a nice-sized hearth at one end of the chamber and a bed at the opposite end. Two low chests flanked the sides, with several candles on top of each. Other than a few hooks placed high up on the wall beside the door, there wasn't anything more to be noticed.

She hurried over to the window to see the view and immediately wished she hadn't bothered. Straight ahead was the courtyard and then the ruins, a gloomy picture to be sure, and since she didn't want to dwell on the past now, she went to the bed to find out if it was lumpy or soft.

"It's a very nice bed," she remarked. "And so is the room. You live like a peasant, don't you, Connor, without any unnecessary luxuries?"

"Does that bother you?"

"No," she answered. "May I have a bath?"

"Tomorrow I'll take you to the lake."

"Tonight, if you please?"

He relented. "I'll have a bath prepared. You'll have to wait while the water is heated in the kitchens and carried up."

She shook her head. "I would not put your staff to such trouble. I could bathe in the kitchens, couldn't I?"

He wasn't surprised by her thoughtfulness because he'd already noticed she put the concerns of others before her own, no matter how much she was inconvenienced. Or injured, he thought to add, for she had put Grace's safety above her own.

"Yes, you may bathe in the kitchens."

"May I also eat there?"

"If you wish."

He opened the door to leave, but hesitated at the threshold, frowning as he noticed once again the dark shadows under her eyes. In the soft light they seemed more pronounced. He felt responsible for her exhaustion because he'd pushed her too hard, and while he regretted putting her through such a difficult ordeal, there really hadn't been any other choice. MacNare and his soldiers had been gaining on them, and getting her to safety far outweighed her need for sleep.

"I want you to rest."

"Will you rest beside me?"

"Yes."

"Now that Euphemia is here, are you still intent on leaving tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Do you think she liked me?"

"Of course she liked you. You shouldn't need my reassurance."

"Will she stay with us a long while?"

"I hope so," he answered on his way out the door. "I haven't asked."

"Connor?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't forget to send one of your men to find Gilly."

"I won't forget. Any other questions?"

Neither his gruff attitude nor his frown deterred her. She hurried over to the doorway, leaned up on her tiptoes, and kissed him. She was very thorough. Connor put his arm around her waist, hauled her up against him, and kissed her a second time, far more passionately than he'd intended to and not nearly as long as he wanted. She ended the kiss by pulling away from him. She saw the bewilderment in his eyes, turned around so he wouldn't see her smile, and then thought to tell him he could now take his leave.

He was halfway down the stairs before he realized he'd been dismissed.

Quinlan had to tell him he was smiling. The soldier wanted to know why his laird was happy, leaving Connor no choice but to admit he didn't have the faintest idea.

Although it wasn't possible, the ruins of Connor's father's home seemed to have moved closer, and no matter where Brenna stood in the room, whenever she looked outside, the destruction was all she could see.

She couldn't stop staring at the depressing sight. She knew his father had died there, but had Connor witnessed his death? She hoped he hadn't because she couldn't even begin to imagine how painful it would be to watch her own dear father die.

A knock on her door was a welcome intrusion to such sad thoughts. A soldier carried in her baggage, and the minute she was left alone again, she pulled out a change of clothing, her brush and two ribbons, and hurried downstairs.

There wasn't a soul on the main floor, and not a sound could be heard coming from outside. She didn't like the silence at all. She was used to being surrounded by family, servants, and visitors, and she knew it was going to take time for her to adjust to the change.

The cook was coming to fetch her and had pushed the back door open just as Brenna was reaching for the handle. It took the woman a moment to recover from her surprise. She backed down the steps, bowed low, and introduced herself in such a low voice, it was as though she were confessing her sins to a priest and didn't wish to be overheard. Her name was Ada. She was twice Brenna's height, extremely rounded in her middle, and had enough gray in her braid to suggest she was getting on in years.

Both her gentle manner and soft voice reminded Brenna of her mother, and she took to the woman at once. Ada was just as bossy as Brenna's mother, too. Once she assisted her mistress into the steaming water, Ada refused to give her any soap until Brenna promised not to wash her hair.

The two women conversed with one another using a combination of Gaelic and gestures. Ada spoke with a brogue so thick and garbled, Brenna could catch only a word or two out of her long, rambling explanations. She finally pointed to the stitches on her mistress's forehead, frowned, and vehemently shook her head. Brenna concluded she didn't want her to get the stitches wet.

Ada didn't notice the bruise on the back of her thigh until she helped Brenna get out of the wooden tub. The older woman clucked over her like a mother hen, and in her attempt to show how sympathetic she was, she pounded so roughly on Brenna's shoulder, she very nearly sent Brenna sailing across the kitchen.

After wrapping the laird's new wife in a blanket, Ada demanded to know the story behind Brenna's injuries. Brenna tried several times to explain the circumstances, but the only words the woman understood were those conveying the fact that she'd fallen down the steps.

Brenna tried to put on the clothes she'd brought down from her baggage, but Ada wouldn't let her. She snatched the garments out of her hands and handed her new clothing instead. Brenna knew Connor was responsible for the thoughtfulness because Ada kept bowing her head and saying "Laird MacAlister" over and over again.

Ten minutes later, Brenna was dressed in a pale gold gown with a MacAlister plaid overskirt.

Ada insisted on helping her get to the kitchen's table. Telling the woman she didn't need her assistance proved useless. The woman's mind was already made up, and it was futile to argue.

Brenna didn't have any idea what it was she had been given to eat, but the flavor and the aroma were so wonderful she had to have a large second helping. Both the food and Ada's companionship invigorated her. She wasn't ready to go to bed after all and decided to explore outside until dark.

The minute she stepped outside the kitchen door, she heard men shouting. The noise seemed to be coming from the courtyard. It sounded as though quite a crowd had gathered, with everyone trying to be heard at the same time, and Brenna was curious to find out what was happening. She saw some men running up the slope toward the front of the keep, their expressions grim. Instinctively, she proceeded more cautiously.

By the time she reached the side of the keep, the courtyard was silent. She thought the soldiers must have continued on toward the crest, but when she turned the corner and saw them standing in a wide circle, she came to an abrupt stop.

As one, the soldiers stared toward the center of the circle. They seemed transfixed. Brenna noticed that three of the men were wearing plaids different from the MacAlister's. They were the only ones who moved at all. She saw their fearful expressions each time they glanced up to look at her husband. Connor was on the far side of the circle. Had he looked up, he would have seen her standing there, watching, but like the others, his attention was on the ground.

The collective mood of the men told her something was terribly wrong.

She kept her gaze on her husband as she walked forward, and hoped he would look up at her so she would know whether to come forward or turn away. His rigid stance should have been sufficient warning, yet she was still unprepared for what she was about to see.

She found an opening between two MacAlister soldiers, moved closer, and stood up on her tiptoes trying to see over the shoulders of the men standing in front of her. Just then one of the men moved over a bit and suddenly she was able to look down at the ground and see what the others were staring at.

She saw the bloody remains of an animal with a knotted rope twisted about its neck, and at first glance she didn't understand the significance. Then she noticed what was left of the braided mane and the pretty pink ribbon tied into a perfect little bow.

The impact struck her like a blow. Bile rushed up to her throat, and with it came her low whimper of pain.

She was looking at her own sweet Gilly.