The Wedding

Chapter 9

Connor faced his wife in the circle and waited for her to look at him. He could tell she didn't immediately understand what she was looking at. He hoped to God she wouldn't recognize the horse, even though he knew in his heart she would. Why hadn't he taken the time to remove the damned ribbon the second he'd seen it? Surely that was the only way she would ever have known it was Gilly.

He ached for her. The pain he saw in her eyes at the moment of recognition made him come close to losing his control. It took all his willpower to stand perfectly still. She made a low sound. He was certain Hugh's soldiers would think it was just the whisper of the wind, for one man looked up at the sky before turning back to Connor.

Brenna put her hand to her throat, took a step back, and frantically sought out Connor.

He wanted to go to her, but he didn't move and, in fact, knew he couldn't show her any compassion until after the soldiers had taken their leave. Hugh's men would return to their laird to report the MacAlister's reaction, and Connor would be damned for eternity before he would let any outsider know what he thought about the message MacNare had sent him.

He was worried his wife would scream or break down in front of the witnesses. He wouldn't blame her, for she felt great affection for her pet, but he prayed she would walk away first. He tried to help her, holding her gaze for a long moment, willing her with his silence and his mask of cold indifference to follow his lead. He knew he was asking too much of her and honestly didn't know if she could give him what he wanted. Yet, just as he made up his mind to order her back inside, he saw her hand drop down to her side and the color rush back into her face. She straightened to her full height, shuddered once, and gave him a barely perceptible nod.

She gave him far more than he'd expected. She looked at Hugh's soldiers, and honest to God, there was a faint smile on her face as though she wanted to welcome them to her home but knew she shouldn't until her laird introduced her.

Dear God, he was proud of her. She appeared to be only mildly curious as she studied each man's face, and when she finished her inspection, she glanced at Connor one last time, bowed to him, and then turned around and walked away with all the dignity and regal bearing of a princess.

Everyone watched her leave. Several servants waited by the side of the keep for their mistress, and as Brenna walked past them, one called out to her.

"Mi'lady, what are the men looking at?"

"Just a dead horse," she called out. "Nothing more."

She continued on at a leisurely pace, and only when she had disappeared around the corner did Hugh's soldiers turn back to Connor. They were staggered by the grin they saw on Laird MacAlister's face.

The senior of the emissaries addressed the laird. "Hugh is concerned you'll decide he had something to do with this."

Crispin stepped forward to answer for his laird. He towered over the soldier, forcing the man to take a hasty step back.

"Hugh has no reason to be concerned. Our laird knows who sent the message."

"You've completed your errand," Quinlan announced. "Leave now and let us get back to important matters."

Several of the MacAlister warriors nodded their agreement, and the messenger noted they were all smiling like their laird.

"Do I report your laird was inconvenienced and nothing more?"

"Report what you will," Connor answered. "It makes no difference to me."

"Do you want us to take the remains with us?"

"Leave it for our dogs," Crispin suggested.

Connor nodded before he walked away.

The messenger wouldn't forget what he had witnessed, and when he stood before his laird, he would report only that Laird MacAlister had been vastly amused by the enemy's message.

Brenna made it to the bedroom before she started gagging. She was able to keep the food in her stomach by taking deep breaths and forcing herself to block the image of Gilly.

When her nausea slowly subsided, she sat down on the side of the bed, gripped her hands together in her lap, and tried to make sense out of the horror. She didn't weep, for mourning, she believed, should be reserved for men, not animals, and it became a measure of her control that she not give in to the desire.

Poor Gilly. Her faithful mare had never done anyone any harm. The docile, obedient pet had brought Brenna such joy over the years, and should have been retired to a field of clover to die when her time came. To think that she had been mutilated and then dragged halfway up a mountain was nearly too horrible to accept.

She prayed the gentle pet had died quickly before the sadistic killers had used their knives and hatchets on her. Who would do such a vile, contemptible thing? What kind of monster would destroy one of God's gentle creatures with such malicious intent?

MacNare. He must be behind the deed. He must have been in a rage all the while he'd chased after Connor and her, and when he happened upon Gilly, he turned his wrath against her. Until today, Brenna hadn't known men were capable of such horrendous cruelty. When her father had decreed she would marry

MacNare, she remembered she'd been angry and worried. But she hadn't been truly afraid of the laird.

She was terrified of him now. If this is what he would do to an animal, what would he do to a man? The thought led to another more terrifying one. If Connor hadn't come for her when he did, she would be married to the demon now. The realization made her start gagging again.

She didn't know how long she sat on the bed thinking about what had happened, but the room was dark by the time Connor came inside. She neither looked at him nor spoke to him and was thankful for his silence, because she knew she wouldn't be able to talk about Gilly just yet.

After giving her a quick glance to make certain she was all right, he bolted the door behind him, then crossed to the hearth to start a fire blazing. He kept expecting her to shout at him, and when she remained silent, he grew even more worried. He knew she must be angry with him because he had insisted on leaving Gilly behind. He didn't want Brenna to keep her anger inside. The sooner she got it out in the open, the sooner she could sleep again.

Women, his brother had told him, had the unique ability to rid themselves of their anger simply by acknowledging it. Men weren't able to do such a thing. Anger would often fester inside the hearts of warriors for years and years, until they found a way to right the wrong done to them. Connor wouldn't have had it any other way.

"You're shivering. Come and stand by the fire."

She surprised him by obeying. As soon as she crossed the chamber, he pulled her into his arms, told her to look up at him, and then gave her permission to shout at him.

"I don't want to shout at you," she said, puzzled.

"I know you're angry with me. You'll tell me about it now and get rid of it."

"I'm not angry with you."

"I made the decision to leave your horse behind."

"Yes, but it was necessary."

She turned away from him and stared into the flames. "MacNare's responsible."

"Yes."

"He took pleasure in what he did to Gilly. Didn't he?"

"Don't think about it."

"Answer me." Her voice was sharper than she intended, but Connor didn't seem to be at all bothered by it. His response was quite mild when he agreed with her.

"Yes, I'm sure he took pleasure in mutilating the horse."

"I hope Gilly died quickly before… Did she?"

He looked her right in the eye while he lied to her. "Yes."

"How can you know for certain?"

"I know." He was emphatic enough for her to think he was telling her the truth.

"I shouldn't have left the braided ribbons dressing her mane. That's how he knew she belonged to a woman, isn't it?"

"They would have known anyway. She was smaller than any of ours."

Connor was taking it all in stride. She pulled out of his arms and looked up at his face again but couldn't see any anger there at all.

"You're very calm about it all, aren't you? Don't you want to shout?" she asked.

"Would such a reaction change what happened?"

She shook her head. She knew he was right. Ranting and raving wouldn't bring Gilly back to her. Still, the lack of emotion Connor was showing made her feel all the more alone with her anger and her terror.

"Why did MacNare go to such trouble to send what was left of Gilly to us?"

"He wanted me to see what he'd done. Go to bed now. You need your rest."

"Was it a message for you or for me?"

"Me."

"Gilly belonged to me."

"But you belong to me," he reasoned.

"Was it a message of what's to come?"

"Hugh's soldiers said MacNare called it a gift," he told her. He forced her closer to him again and began to remove her clothes.

She didn't resist until he tried to take her chemise off her. "I'll be cold."

He wouldn't be deterred. "I'll keep you warm tonight. I notice you're still wearing the medallion your father gave you. I told you to throw it away," he reminded her. He really didn't care what she did with the wooden disk, now that he understood her better and knew she wasn't wearing it to insult him. It seemed harmless enough.

"I didn't do it."

"Do what?"

"Throw it away."

"I can see you didn't," he said, amused. "You're really exhausted tonight, aren't you?"

"Yes. I don't think I'll be able to sleep though. I'm too angry and…"

"And what?"

She shook her head. She wasn't ready to admit to him how frightened she was. "Will you come to bed with me?"

"Not yet. I have one more duty to complete."

"Is it important?"

"Yes."

"Could you rest beside me for just a few minutes, please?"

She wouldn't get into bed until he agreed, so he removed his boots, stretched out on his back, and stacked his hands behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling. She stared at him.

He gave the appearance of a contented man who didn't have a worry in the world, and had she not seen him standing across from her in the courtyard, she would have thought he hadn't seen or heard about Gilly yet. His reaction didn't comfort her.

She would have preferred sleeping on the side closer to the door, but he made her take the side by the window instead. She didn't want to stare out at the ruins, but she didn't want to look at Connor either, because his cold attitude was nearly as unsettling as the view in the moonlight, and so she ended up flat on her back staring up at the ceiling, too.

She couldn't understand her husband's indifference. When he was looking down at Gilly, he'd appeared completely unconcerned, but she thought he'd been pretending so the messengers wouldn't have anything worthwhile to report. Now she wasn't so certain. Perhaps Connor hadn't been pretending at all. Could he really be so unfeeling?

The horse was her pet, yes, and though she had raised her and loved her dearly, she was still just an animal. But would Connor have behaved differently if the remains of one of his soldiers had been dragged home to him?

She found herself fervently hoping so.

Several minutes passed in silence while she thought about her husband's behavior. She thought of another question to ask him then and glanced over to make certain he was still awake first.

"Who did you say the soldiers came from?"

"Hugh."

"Is he an ally of MacNare's?"

"His soldiers would have been killed a long time ago if their laird was an ally of MacNare's."

"Is he your ally then?"

"When it's convenient for him to be," he answered. "Hugh's land borders ours to the south. I let him live in peace as long as he stays out of my way."

"I wouldn't trust him."

"I don't."

Connor watched her struggle to stay awake. She could barely keep her eyes open and was yawning every other minute now, but she was still determined to talk about what had happened instead of giving in to the inevitable. He decided to help her lose her battle. He pulled her into his arms, held her close, and began to stroke her back. The heat radiating from his body warmed her and made her drowsy in no time at all.

"MacNare's a demon, and demons don't fear anyone," Brenna said. "That makes them all the more dangerous and terrifying to others."

He closed his eyes and waited for her to tell him she was afraid of the bastard.

She took a roundabout way of admitting it. "Women, especially, would be frightened."

"But not you," he said. "You know I won't let anything happen to you, don't you, Brenna?"

"Yes," she whispered. "And you know I won't let anything happen to you, don't you, Connor?"

He was smiling when he leaned down and kissed her forehead. "MacNare isn't immortal. He has fears like everyone else. He fears one man in particular."

"You're certain of this?"

"Yes."

"Should women also fear this man?"

"No."

"Who is he?" she asked. She fell asleep waiting for her husband to give her the name of the man this demon feared.

She slept soundly for over an hour, until she was jarred awake by the clanking sound of the drawbridge being lowered.

Connor wasn't in bed with her. She knew, before her feet touched the floor, that he was leaving the safety of the fortress. She grabbed her plaid and wrapped it around her on her way to the window.

The sight was ominous. A procession of soldiers on horseback, each carrying a fiery torch in one hand and holding a rope in the other, slowly crossed the bridge, dragging a bony carcass behind them. The clipping sound the horses made didn't cover the brittle echoes of the remains banging against the wooden planks.

Connor led the way to the ruins. When the procession reached its destination, everyone dismounted. They formed an arc, and in the center, four of the men began the digging. Their muscular silhouettes glistened in the flickering light as they lifted mounds of dirt and flung them to the side.

The hole was deep. Another soldier stepped forward, reached down, and lifted each man up. The beacons were thrust into the ground then, and the soldiers moved in unison to pull on the ropes. The carcass was slowly dragged forward. It teetered on the edge of the black hole for several seconds, then plunged down. The ropes, like snakes, slithered down into the cavity as soon as the soldiers released them.

After they filled the hole with dirt, a single torch was left burning bright on top of the mound, and the other beacons moved toward the horses.

Minutes later, the procession came thundering back across the drawbridge. A single light remained behind to keep vigil over the ruins. It burned bright for several more minutes, flickered twice, and then was gone.

Brenna kept watch at the window for her husband.

When Quinlan and Crispin returned to the keep ten minutes later, she stepped back into the shadows so they wouldn't see her. The soldiers had been to the lake to wash, and she assumed her husband had gone with them.

Almost a full hour passed before he appeared on the path. The breath caught in the back of her throat at first sight of him. The fire from his torch blazed around him, and in the glow of the light, his magnificent body seemed covered with gold. She didn't sense the danger in him until he grew closer, and then she noticed the change. He was moving like a predator now. His stride was long, determined, the muscles in his shoulders and arms rolling with fluid grace under sleek skin, his gaze, watchful.

He was ready to strike. The power he radiated made her heartbeat quicken. Her hands trembled as she pulled the plaid tight around her shoulders to ward off a sudden chill. She knew she was being fanciful. He was her husband, not a stranger. Yet her instincts continued to warn her. She understood why as soon as he reached the courtyard.

She felt his rage before she saw it. His head down, he deliberately followed the grooves in the ground over which Gilly had been dragged, and when he reached the spot where the animal had lain, he stopped. He shuddered once, then drew himself up, threw his head back, and looked up at the sky. In the harsh light from the torch, the lines in his face were gray, stark, edged with fury. The vein in his clenched jaw throbbed, and his shoulders and neck became rigid.

He was consumed with anger. She stared into the cold, deadly eyes of a savage, for the rage controlled him now. He hurled the torch into the air, lifted his sword high above his head, and with both hands, plunged it deep into the bloody ground.

He was a terrifying sight. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't cry out to him.

She looked beyond to the ruins and suddenly she understood Connor's rage. He had told her his father had died there, but she hadn't questioned him to find out who had been responsible. She wouldn't ask him now, for in her heart, she already had her answer.

She drew a long breath and turned her gaze back to her husband. He was looking directly at her. Their gazes held for a full minute before he turned away. He ripped the sword out of the ground and started back to the path.

She shouted his name. His expression was still murderous when he looked up at her again. She should have been afraid; she wasn't. She put her hand out to him and ordered him to come home to her.

She waited in the center of the room. The sound of footsteps grew closer and closer. She kept her gaze on the door, her heart pounding with anticipation. She would take him into her arms and soothe the rage in him with gentle whispers and soft caresses.

She had witnessed the transformation from laird to savage and knew without a doubt that Connor was the one man MacNare feared.

She couldn't feel sorry for the pig.

Connor was having difficulty concentrating on his duties. Thoughts of his wife and what he'd done to her the night before kept intruding.

He'd behaved like an animal. He should have stayed at the lake until he'd gotten his anger under control, or spent the entire night there, but when she'd called out to him and beckoned him to come to her, he'd been powerless to resist her lure.

She shouldn't have touched him. If only she'd stayed on the other side of the bedroom, he might have been able to ignore her. Connor acknowledged this to be a lie as soon as he thought it. He'd had every intention of taking her from the moment he started up the steps, but he hadn't meant to take her like a savage. Had he hurt her? God help him, he didn't know. She didn't resist him, though, or ask him to stop. He would have listened to her and obeyed her wishes, of that he was certain. He remembered how she'd run to him and put her arms around him and wouldn't let go. She hadn't known what he was going to do to her then, of course. Hell, she probably would have thrown herself out the window if she'd been able to guess his thoughts.

She would never forgive him. Why should she? He'd used her shamelessly, done things to her that must have terrified her, had taken her not once but twice, and in ways she wouldn't understand. He knew exactly why he'd needed her so much. He'd been living with rage for such a long time, and she was such a gentle, loving spirit. He'd needed her to breathe, to feel…

"Connor, you're choking Peter." Crispin came up behind his laird and put his hand on his shoulder.

Connor shoved the soldier away. Peter staggered back, took several deep, gulping breaths, and straightened up again.

"You almost killed a man, Peter," Connor said, his voice harsh. "Had I not knocked the sword out of your hand, one of my loyal followers would be dead. I will not tolerate stupidity."

"Laird, I…" Peter began.

Connor silenced him by raising his hand. "Don't give me your excuses. Quinlan will decide what's to be done with you."

He waited until the soldier had taken his leave before discussing the matter with his two commanders. Crispin and Quinlan flanked his sides.

Crispin felt the soldier was hopelessly inept and should be sent home. Quinlan was in agreement, but promised he would wait until his anger had abated to make any decision.

Crispin changed the subject. "Have you decided how you're going to retaliate against MacNare?"

"I have. You and I will leave late this afternoon. Select eight or ten soldiers to ride with us."

"Will you go to Kincaid first? He did make you promise not to continue the raids."

"I should go to my brother and explain, but I'm not going to. He'll be furious, of course. However, as soon as he hears about MacNare's message, I'm certain he'll realize I should send the bastard a message of my own."

"Don't confront MacNare or kill him until it's my duty to ride with you," Quinlan requested.

"You make this same request each time we alternate responsibilities," Crispin reminded. "I'm certain Connor knows how you feel about our enemy now."

"And you put the very same request to Connor each time I ride with him, Crispin."

Connor stopped the rivalry by telling the soldiers they would both ride with him when the time came. "I won't kill him until I've found the evidence I need. The promise I gave my father comes above all others. Crispin, go and choose your men and be ready to leave before the sun sets. Quinlan, walk with me back to the courtyard so that I can explain the duties I want the men to complete while I'm away."

He finished outlining the soldier's responsibilities before they'd reached their destination and added one last request. "See that my wife is moved to another bedroom. Do it today."

"Did you and Lady Brenna disagree about the measures you're going to take against MacNare?"

"No, I haven't discussed the matter with her. Why would you think I would?"

"She's your wife, Connor."

"I'm aware of that fact."

"And it was her horse that was butchered."

"Yes," Connor agreed. "And for those reasons, you believe I should explain my intentions to her?"

Quinlan laughed when he saw how puzzled Connor was. Explaining his intentions to his wife had obviously never occurred to him.

"Most wives would like their husbands to tell them what they're feeling."

"Is that so?"

"Then your reason for moving her to another chamber was due to something else?"

"The matter doesn't concern you."

"That is so," he agreed. "But as your friend, I feel I should advise you that your wife will be injured by this decision. She won't understand. Surely you've noticed mi'lady has feelings for you."

"Of course she does, and that is precisely why I'm moving her to another room. I assure you she'll be relieved."

Connor refused to say another word on the subject. He ordered Quinlan to get started on his duties and went inside the hall.

Netta, the servant in charge of cleaning the first floor, dropped the cloth she'd been wiping a table with as soon as she saw her laird. She jumped back, bowed, and stammered out her greeting.

The servant was a jittery woman who trembled at the mere sight of him. Connor couldn't understand why. The woman had served him for over a year now, and in all that time, he'd never once raised his voice to her.

"Netta, go upstairs and tell my wife I wish to speak to her."

"Should I wake her if she's still sleeping, Laird?"

Connor shook his head. "No, it's early yet. If she doesn't immediately answer you, leave her alone. Try to be quiet," he added. "My father's widow may still be sleeping."

The servant stumbled twice in her haste to leave the hall. Connor paced about the empty room while he waited, his mind on the explanation he was going to give Brenna. He knew he should probably apologize for his conduct the night before. He wasn't going to, however, for the simple reason he knew he wouldn't make any sense. He had never, ever told anyone he was sorry, and he wasn't about to learn how to now.

Connor had only just started a fire blazing in the hearth when Netta returned with the news that Lady MacAlister wasn't upstairs. He ordered her to send servants outside to look for her and resumed his pacing again. Quinlan's remark about sharing information with his wife had surprised him, and he found himself wondering if Alec ever told Jamie how he felt about worrisome matters. No, of course he didn't. Men wouldn't… would they?

He shook his head with disgust. Being married complicated his life. He should have realized that before he married. It was a little late for second thoughts, however, and now that she belonged to him, he was honest enough to admit he would never give her up, and thinking about her with anyone else made him angry. Did that mean he liked being married to her? Who was he trying to fool? He liked her all right, more than he'd ever thought possible. Even now, he was tense in anticipation of the moment she would come into the hall.

His own admission was somewhat appalling to him. He was acting as eager as a young soldier trying to impress his commander. He had already softened toward his wife, and if he wasn't careful, he was going to fall in love with her. He was certain he knew exactly what would happen then. She would die on him.

Loving Brenna wasn't worth the heartache.

Crispin had come inside to announce Laird Kincaid's arrival. He was a little late, however, as Alec was already standing by his side. The two men watched Connor pace. When Quinlan joined them a moment later, he bowed to Laird Kincaid before turning his attention to Connor. He was amused his laird hadn't noticed his brother yet. It wasn't like Connor to be so preoccupied, but Quinlan was certain he was thinking about Lady Brenna.

Alec didn't find his brother's inattention amusing at all. Connor redeemed himself in his older brother's eyes a few seconds later. "Are you going to announce my brother or not, Crispin?"

"He was waiting for you to look at me," Alec snapped. "Turning your back on a man can get you killed."

"Turning my back on a family member is rude, Alec, not dangerous." He came forward, formally bowed to Alec, and said, "You honor me with your presence, Laird."

"Your manners still need improvement."

"I learned everything I know from you. Someone's angered you, I see. You're wearing your sword."

"I am angry," Alec replied. "My men are waiting in the lower bailey. We're going on a hunt for a man who dared to defy me, and I want you to ride with me." •

"Of course."

Alec nodded, pleased that Connor had agreed without knowing the name of the man they were going to drag out of hiding. The older brother arrogantly assumed Connor's unquestioning loyalty was due in large measure to the way he had raised him.

Striding into the hall, he slapped his brother on his shoulder on his way to the table and sat down in the only tall-backed chair available. He motioned for Connor to take the adjacent bench.

"Dawson doesn't seem to understand I mean what I say. Lass, fetch me a drink of water," he called out to the servant hovering near the archway.

The servant frantically looked about her. Connor thought she was looking for a spot to place the items she was holding in her hands. Before he could tell her to put them on the steps, she came rushing across the chamber, bowed to him, and put them on the tabletop next to him.

He knew what they were before she explained. "I've sent three servants from the kitchens to search mi'lady out, Laird, but all they've found thus far are the things she dropped behind her. They're still on her trail, Laird, and after I serve Laird Kincaid, will you please tell me what I'm to do with the mistress's belongings?"

Connor was clearly exasperated with his wife and shook his head in bewilderment. "Leave them here, Netta," he instructed.

She bowed again before serving his brother. Connor noticed her hands shook when she put the goblet and pitcher down in front of Alec and he wasn't at all surprised. Women were even more intimidated by his older brother.

"You've misplaced your wife?" Alec inquired blandly.

"Of course not," he answered.

Alec wasn't through teasing his brother. He reached over and picked up a yellow ribbon. "What have we got here?"

"You can see it's a pouch, a ribbon, and a dagger. Honest to God, Alec, I don't know how she does it. Brenna can't even seem to keep her feet in her shoes as she walks along. She's constantly discarding her things and picking up others. I don't know how I will convince her to pay more attention."

Alec found Brenna's forgetfulness vastly amusing. He had a good laugh at his brother's expense before suggesting he simply put a chest in the hall for his followers to place the items that she left behind in.

"With your permission, I'll see to the task," Crispin called out from the entrance.

"Would you like me to search for your wife?" Quinlan asked.

"I'd rather both of you join us," Alec ordered. "What I have to discuss will concern both of you as well."

He waited until the two men were seated across from Connor before he began.

"We'll be away for a week or two. Dawson and his soldiers are hiding up in the mountains, and it's going to take time to drag him out."

"You don't seem to be in any hurry to get started," Connor remarked.

"Dawson isn't going anywhere. The fool thinks he's safe from me," he added with a shake of his head. "I cannot imagine where he got such an idea."

"How many are with him?" Crispin asked.

"I'm not certain of the number. Quinlan, is it your duty to guard the fortress while your laird's away?"

"Yes, laird."

"Post double the number of sentries along the perimeter and on the walls."

"I've already given the order, Alec. You needn't concern yourself," Connor said.

"Do you expect trouble?" Crispin asked.

Connor answered the question. "Alec always expects trouble, and so do we."

"Word has it MacNare went into a rage when he found out you had taken his bride away from him. He's been convinced by her escort that she willingly went with you, and now he blames your Brenna as much as he blames you."

"She wasn't responsible," Connor said.

Quinlan looked incredulous. "Her soldiers went to MacNare instead of returning to their baron? I'm staggered by their stupidity."

"They were assisted in making their decision to go to him," Alec explained. "You can imagine MacNare's predicament. There were at least a hundred relatives and guests waiting to celebrate the wedding with him. He had expected his bride the evening before, and when she didn't arrive on schedule, he dispatched additional troops to hurry her up. I was told he was humiliated in front of the gathering. Damn it, Quinlan, don't you dare find this amusing."

"I find MacNare's humiliation humorous," Quinlan admitted.

"So do I," Connor said.

"And I," Crispin said.

Their loyalty to one another was absolute. The three of them were brothers in the heart, and while Alec understood the bond between them, he knew he should sanction them for their attitude; yet to criticize them for enjoying MacNare's embarrassment would have made him a hypocrite. He'd had a good laugh at the laird's expense, but he wasn't about to admit that to his brother. He wanted to squelch a little of the antagonism between Connor and MacNare now, not encourage it.

"I understand how each of you feels about MacNare. I've little liking for the man, I'll admit, yet you've still to convince me that he and his father were involved in the death of your father, Connor."

He raised his hand to prevent Crispin from interrupting him before continuing. "I will remind you that until you give me adequate proof, Donald MacAlister's sword remains on my wall where I put it the day you entered my home, and none of you will kill MacNare. Have I made myself perfectly clear?"

"You have," Connor answered. "You are my laird and we will honor your wishes at all times."

"Damned right you will."

Connor was having difficulty keeping his anger under control. Although he could have given his opinion whenever he felt like it, to openly disagree with his brother in front of Quinlan and Crispin would have been wrong, as it would undermine Alec's position.

"Are you finished reminding us of our duty to you?" he asked.

Alec gave him a hard look. "I promised you a long time ago that I wouldn't kill MacNare, because if and when you find what you need to prove him culpable, that right belongs to you. However, I haven't promised to let you live, Connor. Don't push me again."

Alec waited for Connor's nod before continuing. "God has given me the impossible duty of keeping the three of you alive, and I accepted the responsibility the minute I carried each one of you inside my home. You were all half dead at the time, and kept my wife up a full week fretting over you. I still haven't forgiven you the inconvenience you caused me."

"I remember," Connor said. "You told me you wouldn't let me die."

Alec laughed. "And you ordered me to go and get the others."

He let out a long, dramatic sigh. "You've been trying to give me orders ever since. Do you remember making me promise you that Quinlan and Crispin wouldn't die either? No, of course you don't. I cannot undo the past for you, Connor, but I can do something about the present. I have some information you might find useful. One of the English soldiers told MacNare that Brenna planned your arrival. That isn't true, is it?"

"No, it isn't true."

"And you have said you didn't force her."

"No, I didn't force her."

"You left out some rather significant details when you explained you married her."

"Such as?" Connor asked.

Alec didn't immediately answer his question. "Two of MacNare's men have left with three of the English soldiers. They're headed for Baron Haynesworth's holding."

"Who is Baron Haynesworth, Laird Kincaid?" Crispin asked.

"Brenna's father," he answered.

"There were twelve soldiers escorting mi'lady," Quinlan said.

"There are three left. MacNare doesn't like hearing bad news. He holds Brenna's father responsible for raising an independent daughter and is going to demand immediate compensation. I don't know the baron, and therefore cannot predict how he will react to hearing his alliance has been broken, but I know what I would do if I had expected my daughter to marry one man and she ended up with another. I'd go after my daughter and hear the truth from her."

"In other words, you think the baron might lead his troops here."

"It's possible."

Connor shrugged. "If it happens, it happens."

"What will you do if her father challenges you?"

"No one's taking her away from me. No one." He hadn't raised his voice, but the force behind each word was just as riveting.

"Would you kill him?" Crispin asked in a voice that sounded only mildly curious.

"It would probably upset my wife if I did," Connor said.

"Probably?" Alec asked. "Of course it would upset her."

"I wouldn't let the retaliation go that far. I'll wait to see what her father does."

Alec nodded, satisfied for the moment that his brother wouldn't do anything rash.

"I wouldn't mention this to Brenna, as there seems little reason to give her such a worry. Though I find it somewhat perplexing, I have learned from watching my wife that women are inclined to worry over every little thing. Jamie was very upset to hear what MacNare had done to Brenna's horse. 'Tis the truth, I was sickened by the vile act as well. Unfortunately, Jamie insisted on hearing every detail from Hugh."

"Laird Hugh came to you?" Quinlan asked.

"He must have ridden through the night," Crispin commented.

"No, he arrived late last evening. One of my sentries led the way. Hugh was in quite a state, but once he'd had enough ale to calm him, he was able to tell me some interesting news. As you know, he has always been against joining MacNare or you. A long time ago, he came to me with his request for protection in the event one of you tried to change his mind for him by force. I assured him that my brother would never do such a thing, of course, and I'm certain I convinced him. I couldn't give him the same assurance regarding MacNare. Hugh wants to live in peace. His grandfather and his father before him both ruled that worthless little stretch of land between you and your enemy, which puts him in an untenable position, because he doesn't have nearly the number of soldiers either one of you have. Hugh has never raised his hand against any man or treated anyone unfairly, and I agreed to give him my assistance. He's an old man who means no harm, Connor, and I won't have him preyed upon."

"I offered him my protection, Alec."

"I know you did, but if he had accepted, his followers would have been slaughtered by MacNare the second you turned your back. The king has a special fondness for the old man and would also be disappointed if anything unfortunate happened to him. I explained all of this to MacNare and told him that as the king's mediator, I will make certain Hugh remains autonomous and is left alone."

"Has MacNare been pressuring him?"

"He has," Alec answered. "Hugh went to MacNare's holding because he'd been invited to attend the celebration after the wedding, but the old man didn't get out of there fast enough and therefore was forced to witness MacNare's unsavory methods in disposing of those who angered him."

"The English soldiers." It was Crispin who stated the obvious. "Were the nine men killed in the same way mi'lady's horse was killed?"

Alec held Connor's stare as he slowly nodded. "Needless to say, Hugh was shaken by what he saw. I hope Brenna never hears about the soldiers. God willing, she'll never find out."

His hope proved false, for Brenna had already heard every word they'd said. She had come in through the back door, heard Alec's voice, and immediately stopped in the hallway to straighten her appearance before she went forward to greet him. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, until she heard her name spoken. She deliberately stayed where she was then because she wanted to find out why she was being discussed, and she knew that the minute she joined them, the conversation would stop. Neither Alec nor Connor was whispering, yet their low voices indicated the seriousness of their topic. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but at the moment, she didn't care.

She came close to giving herself away when Alec explained what had happened to nine of her father's soldiers. She was so sickened by the horror she pictured, she doubled over from the pain in her stomach. Praying for the souls of the men helped her gain a little control, and she vowed that later, when she was alone in her bedroom, she would get down on her knees and ask God to welcome them. As soon as she was finished, she would thank Him too, for sending Connor to her. If he hadn't arrived when he had, she would be married to Satan now. The thought so chilled her, her stomach lurched again.

Concentrating on the conversation in the great hall stopped her from crying out. She forced herself to pay attention by promising herself she could weep for as long as she wanted as soon as she was alone.

"Despite having survived so many years, Hugh's still hopelessly naive," Alec said. "He was in quite a state by the time he returned home, and the very next morning, one of his men came to him to tell him Brenna's horse had been left at his border with a message from MacNare requesting the remains be taken to you, Connor. Hugh felt certain you would wish to see it. Did you know MacNare called it a gift?"

"Yes," Connor answered.

"And then Hugh rode directly to you," Quinlan said with a nod.

"I would like to bring up another matter with you, Connor. It certainly isn't as important as what we've just discussed, yet I find I've been thinking about a comment Hugh made."

"What did he say?"

"Hugh heard from one of the English soldiers that Brenna was a child when she asked you to marry her. You left that out, didn't you? Now I want you to tell me again you didn't defy my command to leave MacNare alone."

Alec had just slammed his fist down on the tabletop when Brenna called out to him. "Good day, Laird Kincaid. What a pleasure it is to see you again."

As quick as a blink, Alec's expression changed from an intense frown to what she believed was a sincere smile. Quinlan and Crispin looked relieved to see her. She went directly over to Alec, gave Connor a quick glance and saw the speculative look in his eyes, and then turned back to their guest. In her enthusiasm, she grabbed hold of his hand to let him know how happy she was to see him, realized her mistake almost immediately, and quickly let go. Alec was surprised by the gesture of affection, yet pleased all the same. He took her hand in his then. "The pleasure belongs to me, Brenna. How are you feeling today?" he asked, looking at the stitches on her forehead.

"I'm feeling very well, thank you. How could I not? It's such a fine day today."

"It's raining," Crispin reminded her.

"The rain has stopped," she answered. "Please sit down again. Have I interrupted an important meeting? I apologize if I have. Is Jamie with you, Laird?"

Alec let go of her hand before answering. "She's home."

"I'm sorry to hear it. I do hope you bring her next time you come to see Connor."

After a second request that they take their seats, the men conceded. She went to Connor, waited until he was settled, and put her hand on his shoulder. The action wasn't meant to show affection, but to show Alec her loyalty to her husband.

"Is your wife well?" she asked.

"I will have to assume she is," Alec answered, his eyes warmed by the talk of his Jamie. "She isn't talking to me at the moment."

"Oh, dear," Brenna whispered.

"Jamie can be as stubborn as her husband," Connor remarked.

"'Tis the truth, she can," Alec admitted with a grin. "She's upset because I won't let her go attend Mary Kathleen. My daughter's time draws near," he explained for Brenna's benefit. "And because this bairn will be her first, my wife thinks her presence will make the ordeal easier for her."

"Lady Kincaid is known as a healer here," Quinlan told her.

"Laird, I cannot help but wonder why you won't let Jamie go to Mary Kathleen," Brenna said.

Connor was surprised his wife had just asked for an explanation. He knew Brenna wasn't being bold; she was simply curious, that was all. Later he would explain to his brother that she couldn't help being impetuous and certainly hadn't meant to question his decision.

Alec seemed to take it in stride, however. "That is the very thing Jamie said to me. I cannot take the time away from my other duties, and I will not let my wife go without me. She'll try to defy my orders, of course, just as soon as she realizes she can't sway me."

"My wife would never defy me," Connor announced. "Isn't that right, Brenna?"

"I'm certain you would let me go," she answered.

"No, I wouldn't."

"Well, then, for the sake of our daughter, I'm certain I would find a way to do what I needed to do without defying you, Connor."

Alec found her belief amusing. "You are that clever?"

"I like to think I am, Laird. I'm one of eight children and have learned that I must be clever if I am ever going to get anything accomplished. You think my boast is empty?" she asked when Quinlan laughed. "I did set out to marry Connor, and if you will all notice, I am now his wife."

Everyone but Connor laughed. He looked exasperated.

The tension had lifted sufficiently for her to let them get on with their meeting, but as she was about to excuse herself, Alec changed her mind.

"I've just met a friend of yours, Brenna. He was quite taken with you and considers himself your champion."

Quinlan took exception on Connor's behalf, for he felt it was insulting for any other man to think he was worthy enough to be his mistress's champion. "Connor protects his wife. Who is this man who dares to challenge him?"

"Aye, Connor's mi'lady's champion," Crispin muttered.

Brenna didn't even try to hide her vexation. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself, thank you." For some reason, all the men found her opinion vastly amusing. She decided to pretend she wasn't offended. "Who is this friend?"

"Father Sinclair."

Quinlan looked sheepish. "If you'd mentioned it was the priest, I wouldn't have taken exception, Laird Kincaid."

Alec ignored the soldier. "He sings your praises, Brenna."

"Why did he come to you?" Connor asked.

"He'd been ordered to replace Murdock. I cannot let him stay, of course, as we are still mourning Murdock's passing. I haven't told him yet, because I was in a hurry to leave today, but I will feed him and give him a bed until I return home and then I'll send him away. It's the least I can do," he added with a shrug.

"How can you deny him, Laird?" she asked.

He looked surprised by the question. "It won't be difficult."

"But why do you want to send him away?"

"Why? Because I don't want him. I'm actually being kind. For some reason, he seems ill-at-ease with me."

"He seemed nervous with Connor too," Quinlan remarked.

"I cannot believe what I'm hearing," she stammered out. "Priests are the most powerful men in all the Highlands. Connor told me so."

"Yes, as long as they realize the power they have," Alec explained. "He, like all the other priests here, is protected and left alone."

"Then why would you send him away?"

"Because I don't want him," Alec explained a second time.

"I want him," she blurted out.

"You can't have him," Connor snapped.

"You really want a priest living here?" Alec asked.

"No," Connor answered.

"Yes," Brenna said at the very same time.

Alec grinned. "Your wish is granted, Brenna. I'll send Sinclair over as soon as Connor and I return."

"Alec," Connor warned.

"I cannot deny your wife," Alec said.

Brenna pretended not to notice her husband's frown. She thanked both brothers for giving in to her request and hurried to leave before Connor reminded her he hadn't done any such thing.

"I'll let you get back to your important discussion," she said. "With your permission, I'll go about my duties."

"You don't have any duties," Connor said.

"Oh, but I do," she said. "I have to go outside and find the perfect spot."

"The perfect spot for what?" her husband asked.

"The chapel, of course. Father will have to have one."

Too late, she realized she shouldn't mention her plan just yet. Connor looked as though he was considering throttling both her and his brother now.

He didn't tell her she couldn't go forward with her plans and, in fact, didn't say another word. He probably didn't trust his voice to speak to her yet, and she hoped by the time he finished his meeting, he would forget about it all together. With any luck, the chapel would be completed before he remembered.

"Do you enjoy wielding your power over me, Alec?"

His brother grinned. "Immensely."

"You may leave, Brenna," Alec told her.

Brenna was halfway across the hall when Alec asked her to stop.

"Were you a clever child?"

"I was told I was."

"Were you a child when you asked my brother to marry you?"

She folded her hands together while she pretended to think about it. "I don't recall my exact age."

"Give me an approximation," he commanded.

"I was just a little older than your Grace is now. I would guess I was going on five or six. Yes, I was about that old when I asked Connor to marry me the first time, but if you'll remember, I asked him three times. I'm not only clever, Laird, I'm also tenacious. I must admit I find your curiosity intriguing, for I seem to recall having this very conversation when I was first introduced to you. I know I mentioned I wasn't forced. I'm very happy to be his wife. How could I not be? I have wanted to marry him for such a long time. Heavens, where are my manners? I should have asked you how Grace is feeling today."

"She's fine," Alec answered.

"She had quite a scare yesterday, and I hope she didn't have any nightmares last night. Do you know, it's really quite remarkable, now that I reflect upon it. God surely has grand plans in store for your daughter."

Alec's curiosity was captured. She couldn't have hoped for more.

"Why do you think so?"

"I know so," she boasted. "God made certain I was inside your home so I could get to her in time. I do believe Grace would have suffered grievous injuries if I hadn't been there to catch her. She came down those steps head first and surely would have broken her neck. You may think I'm foolish to believe God is responsible, but I believe it all the same, and I cannot help but wonder what would have happened if I had married MacNare instead of Connor. Would Grace be feeling well today? My, listen to me going on and on, and you still have business to discuss. I trust the matter of when I proposed and all other questions about my husband's reasons for marrying me have been answered to your satisfaction."

She bowed to the laird and walked away. She couldn't resist adding one last comment, though she didn't bother to turn around. "God does work in mysterious ways. I for one would never question Him."

None of the men uttered a word for a full minute after Lady Brenna left. Each stared at the empty entrance while he pondered what she had just said.

Alec was the first to smile. "Your wife just put me in an awkward position, and do you know what I think? She did it on purpose. How much of our conversation do you suppose she overheard?"

Connor answered without a second's hesitation. "All of it."

"She shouldn't have listened in."

"No, she shouldn't have."

"I should be angry with her."

"Yes."

"Then why am I wanting to laugh? There will be no more talk about defying me, Connor, because I have decided to accept what your wife told me. You were obviously meant for each other."

"I didn't defy you, Alec. You ordered me to stop the raids, and that's what I did. You cannot hold me to my promise now that you know about Brenna's horse."

"I can," Alec argued. "But I won't. Do what you will in repayment as long as it is equal to what was done to the mare."

Alec gained his brother's agreement before leaving the hall. "You're married to a very clever woman. You'd best keep that in mind."

Connor didn't take his suggestion to heart, and it was only later, when it was too late, that he learned to regret it.

The mistake would cost him dearly.