The Wedding

Chapter 11

Life became a living nightmare for Lady Brenna, and it all began and ended with Raen.

Euphemia's pride and joy arrived at the holding just a few hours after Connor had made his departure to go hunting with Alec.

Because she was in the kitchens, Brenna didn't hear the drawbridge being lowered and was therefore the last to be given the news of Raen's arrival.

While all the servants were busy searching for her, Brenna sat at the kitchen table with Ada, trying to communicate. Determined to make the first meal she shared with her stepmother as perfect as any of the holiday feasts her mother had served, Brenna had already spent at least a half hour explaining, or rather, attempting to explain, what was to be served and when. Her goal was to impress Euphemia so that the woman would have no doubts Connor had indeed married well. Discussing the menu proved to be an arduous undertaking, for though the elderly woman's smile indicated her willingness to be of assistance, it was apparent she didn't understand more than a word or two of her mistress's instructions, and if Netta hadn't come to her rescue, heaven only knew what would have ended up on the table. Netta translated Brenna's Gaelic into a twisted dialect only she and Ada and God could possibly understand.

Netta was obviously a treasure. Although the servant was only a few years older than Brenna and had served her laird's household only for one short year, she had lived on MacAlister land almost as long as Connor had and therefore knew all of the goings-on. More important, Netta knew how to acquire necessary items for her mistress.

Once Brenna had explained what she wanted to accomplish in the great hall to make it more welcoming to company in general, and her husband in particular, the servant begged to take over the tasks of organizing the household servants and volunteered to spend the afternoon braiding rushes. She promised the floor would be cleaned and sprinkled with rushes here and there by the middle of the following morning.

"I would rather we keep them hidden away until I've finished sewing the cushions for the benches and collected a few more things for the hall. When everything is finished, we'll make the changes all at once."

Both Netta and Ada were soon caught up in their mistress's enthusiasm. Netta was full of suggestions.

"As for the chairs you're wanting, mistress, I know for a certainty there are two nice tall ones, close in size to the one our laird prefers when he sits for his meals. They're in the tanner's hut, covered up tight," she added. "Lothar's known for scavenging out this and that from cottages that have sat vacant for a decent interval so no one will think him a thief. He doesn't have any use at all for the chairs-he told me so himself-and he threatened to burn them for firewood so he'll have room to collect more. He'd be willing and honored to give them up to you, and might be he has other things you'll be wanting. I'll give you fair warning, though. Lothar's a talker, and it won't do you any good at all to mention you're in a hurry. He won't take your hints because he's lonely now that his wife passed on, and he likes having company around."

"I'll be happy to sit with him for as long as he wishes," Brenna said.

Thrilled with the news that she could implement her plans for the hall sooner than she'd anticipated, she asked Netta to show her where Lothar's cottage was located, but the servant happened to remember her primary reason for searching her mistress out then and hastily told her important news.

"Lady Euphemia's son is here, mi'lady."

The announcement caused her mistress to jump up and hurry to the door. If Ada hadn't given Netta a good nudge in her side, she would have forgotten the question her friend had begged her to ask.

"Mi'lady, could you spare one more minute to put Ada's mind to rest?"

Brenna paused at the door.

"Ada's started fretting you'll want to replace her because she has so much trouble understanding you. She's prone to worry…" The servant stopped her explanation when Lady Brenna went hurrying over to the cook and took hold of her hand.

"You'll be the mistress of the kitchens as long as you wish, Ada," she promised her, and after waiting until Netta had translated her promise, Brenna continued. "I'm the one with the problem of making myself understood, but if you'll have patience with me, I'm certain I'll improve."

Convinced her mistress meant to let her keep her important position, Ada squeezed Brenna's hand to let her know how appreciative she was and bobbed her head up and down in understanding. She was dabbing at the corners of her eyes with the cloth Netta handed her when their mistress left the kitchen.

Outside, the sky was overcast with dark gray shadows, an unwelcome sight to Brenna, who was used to being forced inside by her family whenever so much as a drip came down from the skies. She was fortunate to reach the back door before the heavy rain began.

She tried not to make any noise as she eased the door closed behind her. She didn't want to disturb the reunion between mother and son and thought only to wait by the door to the hall until there was a satisfactory lull in the conversation before she entered the room. Her plan was to quickly introduce herself, make certain both Euphemia and Raen were comfortable and had everything they needed, and then leave again so they could catch up on each other's news.

She heard Euphemia's whispered remarks and assumed she was talking to Raen.

"I don't know if Connor married well or not. Brenna's a pretty little thing, but she's barely grown and cannot possibly have acquired the skills necessary to run a household. She seems very eager to please, and from what I've observed, I would say she's already loyal to Connor. Pity she doesn't have an older woman to show her the way, but then, very soon now, that won't matter, will it? There can be only one mistress here."

"Pretty, you say? Describe her to me," Raen insisted.

"For heaven's sake, you would ask about such inconsequential things," Euphemia scolded. "Couple with camp followers if you must, but put aside any lustful thought for another man's wife. Have you learned nothing in the past few years? You would jeopardize everything if you…"

"Calm yourself, Mother," Raen ordered, his voice sharp with irritation. "I was merely curious. You insult me by suggesting I would even consider bedding a married woman."

"You've done it before, Raen," she reminded him. "Several times, as I recall."

"When I was too young to know any better," he said. "Connor must be pleased with his wife. Do they seem happy to you?"

"From what I've observed, I would have to conclude Connor is very unhappy. I haven't spent sufficient time with her to ascertain how she feels about him."

"If she satisfies him in bed, what more could he want? I for one wouldn't care what my wife's other skills were."

"Is mating all you ever think about?"

"Most men think of little else. I'm no different, Mother, so you can quit scowling at me with disapproval."

"I cannot know for certain, of course, but I would have to assume she doesn't satisfy him in bed either. He moved her out of his bedroom and into another earlier today. She must have gone to him and pleaded, or perhaps she reminded him she couldn't give him an heir unless he bedded her."

"Did she convince him?"

"Yes," Euphemia answered. "Just an hour past, I saw one of his men carrying her clothing back into Connor's chamber."

"You make him sound quite miserable," Raen remarked with a laugh.

"I believe he is," his mother said with conviction. "I don't feel sorry for him, of course. He married her out of spite and has no one to blame but himself. Do you know he didn't even steal the woman he went after?"

"What nonsense is this?"

"I'm telling you the truth. Brenna's father promised MacNare one daughter and sent him another."

"How very English," Raen muttered, his voice as caustic as lye.

Brenna's face felt as though it were on fire, so embarrassed was she by the conversation about Connor's physical satisfaction with her, or rather, dissatisfaction. Intimate matters between a husband and his wife should never be discussed by others. Were Connor's relatives so uneducated and crude because they lived in the barbaric land in the north and simply didn't know any better?

Although it didn't seem possible, her embarrassment had intensified a moment later when Euphemia mentioned that Connor hadn't even captured the woman he'd wanted.

His stepmother had it all wrong. Connor hadn't known or cared which sister was being sent to MacNare; he simply intended to steal the man's bride, and that's exactly what he did. But how in heaven's name had Euphemia found out what her father had done? It seemed perfectly plausible to Brenna that his stepmother would have been privy to the feud going on between the MacNares and the MacAlisters-everyone in the Highlands knew about it-and it was also plausible that she had heard from others that MacNare planned to marry a woman from England.

It didn't seem plausible that she would have also heard that one sister had been promised and another sent, unless Connor had told her.

Why would he have done such a thing? It wasn't like him to ever tell anyone anything he was planning, except for Alec and his two close friends, Crispin and Quinlan, of course, but they were just like Connor. They wouldn't have told Euphemia something they would consider inconsequential.

She leaned heavily against the door while she tried to come up with a reasonable explanation. She felt humiliated and worthless, but then, why wouldn't she? Her own father had treated her with callous disregard when he'd snatched her out of her warm bed and sent her to MacNare without so much as a fare-thee-well.

Had Connor been disloyal to her? She shook her head as soon as the possibility came into her mind. Granted, her husband had a considerable list of flaws that were bound to drive her daft by the time she was an old woman, yet he also had a fair number of virtues. He was above all else an honorable man, of that she was absolutely certain, and honorable men didn't deliberately embarrass their wives.

Heaven only knew how Euphemia had found out, but one day, when Brenna had won her approval and friendship, she would get up the courage to ask her.

The immediate problem facing her was proving to Euphemia that although she was young, she was still quite capable of running Connor's home. His stepmother hadn't said anything unkind about her, which gave Brenna considerable hope that she would be able to prove herself in no time at all.

Connor's family should be important to her, and jn the back of her mind she knew that once he noticed how she accepted his relatives, he would realize he should give her side of the family the same consideration. At the very least, he should show some interest in listening to her talk about her brothers and sisters. He didn't even know their names now. In time he would, she vowed.

Her work was cut out for her, but she'd never backed away from a challenge before, and she wasn't about to back away now. Her ultimate goal was to turn an unfeeling, hardened warrior into a loving husband, and one way or another, she would make it happen. Training a bear to genuflect would probably be easier than teaching Connor to be thoughtful. Still, it could be done, couldn't it?

She straightened away from the door and with renewed determination and a firm plan in her mind, she took a slow, deep breath and opened the back door. Then she slammed it shut so Euphemia and Raen would hear, forced a smile on her face, and went inside.

"Good day, Lady MacAlister," she called out from the doorway.

"Good day, Brenna. I'm happy you could join us. We've been waiting for you quite a long time now."

"I apologize if I kept you waiting. I was in the kitchens going over tonight's meal."

"Come forward, child, so I may introduce you to my son."

She felt a surge of anger at being called a child, quickly suppressed it, and did as she was asked. Raen was standing by the hearth. She intended to go to him before she curtsied, but Euphemia's son got to her first. 'Twas a fact, he actually ran, but thankfully he had enough presence of mind to stop before he ran her down. A bit unsettled by his enthusiasm, she took a quick step back to put a decent amount of distance between them.

"My son's name is Raen," Euphemia called out. "And from the look on his face, I can only conclude you've given him quite a start. Son, where are your manners?" she added in a sweet voice.

And still he didn't say a word. His close scrutiny made her uneasy in no time at all. What was the matter with him?

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she blurted out, looking up at him while she waited for him to stop gawking at her and say something in return.

She was surprised the man standing before her was related to Euphemia. They didn't look anything alike. Raen evidently favored his father's side of the family, which really wasn't all that fortunate, because they must have been rather dull-looking people.

He wasn't unpleasantly dull, just rather ordinary, with lackluster features and pale coloring and hazel eyes that couldn't decide what color to be. He was tall, nearly as tall as Connor, as a matter of fact, yet given to fat around his chest, not muscle, which meant he didn't do much strenuous work on his land.

The way he was staring at her made her horribly uncomfortable. His gaze had been centered on her mouth for surely what must have been a full minute, and then dropped to her breasts, where it lingered even now.

It wasn't appropriate behavior at all. But he was from the far north, she reminded herself, and therefore didn't know any better.

"You're a very beautiful woman, Brenna," he whispered, as he clasped her hand in his. "I hope Connor realizes your value."

"Surely you realize a woman's value isn't determined by her appearance, but what is inside her heart, and I assure you, Raen, my husband does recognize my worth. I do thank you for your compliment," she hastily added, lest he take offense because she'd just instructed him.

"Yes, of course," he agreed. He bowed low to her then, and while he was telling her how very eager he'd been to meet her, he was slowly rubbing his thumb back and forth along the palm of her hand. She couldn't understand why he would want to do such a thing. She certainly didn't enjoy it, but when she tried to pull away from him, he tightened his hold. She made up her mind then and there that she would be polite to the man, but never, ever like him.

"Come and sit with me at the table. I'm getting an ache in my back craning around to look at you," Euphemia called out.

Seizing the opportunity, Brenna jerked her hand away before turning to his mother. "Madam, wouldn't you be more comfortable sitting in the tall chair?"

"You want me to sit at the head of the table while Connor is away?",

Euphemia apparently didn't need an answer to her question, for quicker than a goblet can be tossed from the table to the floor, she took possession of the position of power. "You are very thoughtful, child."

Raen pressed against Brenna's back, and when she tried to move away, he put his hands down on her shoulders to keep her there. "Mother, Brenna isn't a child. One look at her and anyone can see she's a woman."

"Now, Raen, don't criticize me," Euphemia pleaded.

The son ignored his mother and leaned down close to Brenna's ear. "Sit by me at the table and tell me all about your wedding."

If she turned around to answer him, she knew she wouldn't be able to hide her repulsion, and so she directed her remarks to his mother instead. "I mustn't intrude upon your joyful reunion with your mother."

"Nonsense, I only left her side a week ago."

"I don't know why I assumed it had been a much longer separation," she lied, for she remembered quite well that Euphemia had insisted she hadn't seen her son in a long, long while. "But a week is still a long time to a mother, isn't that so, Lady MacAlister?"

"Not really," Euphemia answered. "Raen, you're standing entirely too close to Brenna. I'm not about to be ignored any longer. Come over here and sit with me."

"I hadn't realized I was standing close," he said with such a tone of surprise that his mother obviously thought he was sincere. Brenna wasn't so easily fooled, however. She resisted an urge to sigh with relief as soon as he let go of her and strolled over to the table.

"Brenna, you have my permission to go about your duties. Raen, I have some interesting news to tell you."

Brenna hurried toward the entrance before Euphemia could change her mind.

Raen stopped her. "We heard thunder. Wasn't it raining when you came inside?"

"Yes, it was."

"Then why aren't your clothes wet?"

She wasn't about to admit the truth, that she had been inside several minutes before the downpour started, for then she would have to explain what she'd been doing, and they'd know she had deliberately listened to their private conversation.

"Two very thoughtful servants held cloaks over my head."

His nod indicated he accepted her lie. "I hope to God the rain lets up soon. I hate being cooped up inside."

She thought that it was rather peculiar that the rain would keep him in. Connor's soldiers went about their duties regardless of the weather. Raen wasn't at all like the other men, however. He had been overindulged and pampered by his mother and probably didn't realize what a weakling he appeared to be.

How in heaven's name was she ever going to get through supper tonight? She hoped to God she didn't have to sit next to Connor's stepbrother. The mere possibility made her lose her appetite.

She avoided the hall for the rest of the day until it was time to join her relatives for the evening meal. To her surprise, the evening turned out to be quite pleasant. Not only was Euphemia less abrasive, Raen was also somewhat charming. He sat across from her at the table, entertaining both his mother and her with amusing stories from his past. By the time she went upstairs, she was actually looking forward to sharing her next meal with him.

After spending another lovely evening with him the following night, she began to feel guilty for initially judging him so harshly. She had thought the worst of him and now realized how wrong she'd been. Granted, Raen had been overly enthusiastic at their first encounter, but not because he had lecherous intentions she decided. Perhaps he just didn't know any better. And maybe he was trying to counter his mother's uncertain attitude toward her son's wife by showing Brenna she had his complete approval.

She went to bed that night feeling she had simply overreacted and vowed to never let that happen again. Everyone deserved a second chance.

On the third morning of Connor's absence, Brenna awakened to sunshine and laughter. She threw off her covers and went to the window to look out at the glorious day. Servants were hurrying about below, and from the joy in their faces she knew they loved being outside as much as she did.

There were at least a hundred things she wanted to accomplish today, and while she knew she shouldn't put her duties aside, she meant to do just that in favor of exploring the hills.

Smiling in anticipation, she hurried to get dressed and go downstairs. The hall was deserted, and though she tried, she couldn't get the heavy door open so she could go down to the courtyard. She wasn't defeated, however, and turned to go out the back door instead.

"Good morning, mi'lady. Did you sleep well?" Netta called out from the hall.

"Yes, thank you," she answered. "Has Lady MacAlister come down yet?"

"No, mi'lady, she hasn't. Raen has already left the holding to go riding for the day. He told me he wouldn't be back until supper."

"He went outside the walls with some of Connor's soldiers?"

"No, he rode alone. He's taking a risk, isn't he?"

"He must not think so," Brenna replied with a shrug. "I wonder where he plans to go," she added.

"It wouldn't have been proper for me to ask," Netta said.

Brenna wasn't paying attention to the servant now, for she'd only just noticed the pile of items stacked on the top of the low chest in the entrance. As soon as Netta convinced her they looked familiar to her because they belonged to her, Netta helped carry everything back up to Brenna's room.

That evening, Raen returned to the holding just in time to share his evening meal with his mother and Brenna. He looked tired from his ride, but was still quite pleasant, and once again, he did nothing that was in the least inappropriate.

He was ready to go upstairs at the very same time she was. He clasped hold of her elbow and walked by her side, which was really quite gallant, and told her a humorous story that made both of them laugh. His hand brushed across her breasts as he reached for the door latch, but it was apparent from the innocent look on his face that he hadn't even realized what he had done, leaving her to wonder why she was so quick to become suspicious again.

What was wrong with her, she wondered while she prepared for bed, and finally concluded that the strain of trying to win Euphemia's approval was making her a nervous twit. 'Twas the truth, the woman could make a saint lose her temper. No wonder Brenna had her guard up all the time. Connor's stepmother was an extremely difficult woman to please, and winning her over was proving to be far more difficult than Brenna had anticipated. While Euphemia never openly criticized her, she still managed to find fault with everything she did, and in a backhanded, condescending way that made Brenna want to clench her teeth together.

She wasn't about to give up, of course, and decided she would simply double her efforts.

The following morning, Raen had once again left the holding to go riding alone before Brenna had come downstairs. She spent a trying day seeing to Euphemia's every comfort and was worn out by supper.

The worst was yet to come, however. Brenna's evening wasn't at all delightful; it was god-awful. She tried to engage Raen in conversation, but he was in a sullen, defiant mood. Being charming must have been a strain on him, because he discarded all attempts at being the least bit polite.

He acted like a lecher again. He never took his gaze off her-or rather, her mouth-throughout the endless meal, and from the smirk on his face and the look in his eyes, she knew he was fully aware of how uncomfortable he was making her.

Euphemia chose to be oblivious to what was going on. Brenna doubted she would have done anything about it even if asked to. Her devotion to her son blinded her to his faults. She considered Raen to be perfect, which was more than evident from the way she constantly bowed to his wishes.

Up until that night, Euphemia found fault with just about everyone and everything else, though, except the meals. Brenna thought her mother-in-law was enjoying her food; she ate everything on her trencher just as she had at her previous meals, but after the table was cleared and the servants left the hall, Euphemia announced her dissatisfaction.

"Brenna, I realize you've been unprepared for company for the last several days and have obviously been in too much of a rush to go over supper arrangements thoroughly with your cook, and for that reason I have held my tongue. I cannot keep silent any longer, however, and must insist you replace the incompetent woman in your kitchen with someone more skilled. Tonight was the worst disaster yet. I swear I ate more fat than fowl, and the tarts were so bitter and stringy I could barely get them down. Has Connor had to put up with this poor excuse for food long?"

"Mother, Brenna hasn't lived here long enough to know if he has or not," Raen snapped.

Euphemia continued to frown at Brenna. "You look flushed, dear. Have you put in a long day?"

"Yes, madam."

"Why don't you go upstairs to bed? Raen will be happy to keep me company."

She couldn't excuse herself fast enough. Unfortunately, Raen followed her to the entrance steps. He grabbed hold of her arm, told her he was escorting her, and pressed against her side. She was all but hanging over the railing in her attempt to put some distance between them.

"There isn't any need to go upstairs with me, Raen. I'm sure you have more important things to do."

"You've already taken one serious fall, and these steps are dangerously steep," he argued as he pulled her along.

"How did you hear about my fall?"

"I asked one of the servants how you injured your forehead, and she told me you fell down the stairs. I would be remiss in my duty to my brother if I didn't make certain you were kept safe while he was away."

"I fell down because I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I am paying attention now."

He let go of her arm, giving her only a few seconds to feel relieved before he slipped his arm around her waist.

"Please let go of me," she asked.

He ignored her. "Are you eager to see Connor again? I know you must miss him, especially at night when you're in bed and you're wanting to feel him between your thighs."

"Do not dare talk to me in such a way," she ordered. She was so furious, she could barely control herself and increased her struggles to get away from him.

He shifted his grip, moving upward until his fisted hand rested just below her right breast, making it impossible for her to struggle now because, every time she moved, his knuckles rubbed against her.

He never once looked down at her or showed any reaction at all to the pain she knew she was inflicting in his arm with her nails digging into his flesh.

"I could take care of you while he's away," he whispered. "I know how to make the ache go away. Leave your door unlatched tonight, Brenna."

Stunned by the filth he spewed, she could barely keep her wits about her. "If you don't let go of me, I swear I'll scream."

"Why in heaven's name would you want to scream?" he asked in mock astonishment, while his fingers slowly uncoiled and spread upward to squeeze her breast.

Anger gave her the strength of five men. She drove her elbow into his side and blessedly got just the reaction she wanted. He grunted in obvious pain and let go of her. She moved back against the door of her bedroom and reached for her dagger. She felt a second's panic when she touched her side and realized the knife wasn't in the pouch looped to her belt, but Raen wasn't looking at her now or trying to grab her again.

He opened the door for her, bid her good night, and strolled away. He was whistling as he went down the stairs.

Shaking with rage and terror, she ran inside, bolted the door closed behind her, and broke into sobs.

What in God's name was she going to do?

The possibility that he might try to touch her again terrified her. She slept on Connor's side of the bed that night and didn't go downstairs until later than customary the following morning. She was, however, much calmer, because she realized that Raen wouldn't dare do anything inappropriate in front of witnesses and as long as she was never alone with him, she would be safe until Connor came home.

The minute she saw her husband, she was going to tell him exactly what had happened, but until he returned and sent Raen away, it was her duty to look out for herself.

Connor should be the first to know. Raen was his stepbrother, and it wouldn't be right to tell anyone else, unless it became absolutely necessary. She wasn't about to suffer so much as an obscene look from the vile man however. If he came near her, she would banish him from the keep immediately, providing she had the power to do so, and if Quinlan told her she didn't have the authority, she would either tell him what had happened or pack her satchel and move in with the Kincaids. Alec had told her he would never deny her anything.

She walked around in a rage most of the afternoon, and at supper that evening, she ignored Raen and urged Euphemia to tell her all about herself. Connor's stepmother seemed to enjoy being the center of attention and spent over an hour complimenting herself. Brenna pretended to hang on every word. She wasn't about to leave the hall unless her stepmother was with her, which soon became apparent to Raen, because he finally went outside to stretch his legs.

He dared to ask Brenna if she would like to accompany him, in a mocking tone and with a sneer that told her he knew what her game was and found it amusing.

"No, thank you," she answered without bothering to look at him. "I would rather listen to your mother. Lady Euphemia, you've had such an interesting life."

"I've had a tragic life," Euphemia corrected.

With Brenna's encouragement, she then proceeded to tell her all about the pain she had endured over the loss of her dear parents. No one had ever suffered the way Euphemia had, and no one had ever had so many crushing disappointments.

Euphemia didn't stop talking about herself for another hour or so. Brenna stayed by her side, pretending to be fascinated, and when, at last, she announced she was going up to bed, Brenna took hold of her arm and walked by her side.

"I meant to talk to you about the evening meals, madam."

"I meant to have a word with you too. Once again, I was disappointed, Brenna. Didn't you follow my instructions and get rid of the cook?"

"Yes, of course I did," Brenna lied. "I've come up with a plan I hope you'll approve. You are far more knowledgeable than I, and I could use your counsel."

"Don't berate yourself. You don't know any better."

Brenna didn't argue, but she didn't agree either. "I have asked five women to take turns preparing your evening meals, and I will let you decide at the end of the week who is the best skilled to suit your needs."

Euphemia shrugged with indifference. "Leave it to me."

"Thank you, madam."

Managing to get to her bedroom without offending the woman, Brenna leaned against the door and let out a loud sigh.

Netta stood at the hearth, warming herself in front of the fire. "Did Lady Euphemia go along with your plan to try five different cooks?"

Brenna smiled. "Yes, she did. Be sure to remind Ada she mustn't let Euphemia see her until the end of the week."

"She knows, mi'lady, and she's most appreciative of your efforts. She's worried though that Lady Euphemia will know she prepared all the meals through the week. Are you sure you wouldn't rather have someone else…"

"I'm certain," Brenna replied. "Ada's a fine cook. Our laird's stepmother likes to be difficult. I've decided we aren't being disloyal to our laird with our trickery," she added. "We're simply trying to make his relatives happy, that's all."

"None of us feel tricking Lady Euphemia is disloyal. Do you have any idea how long she and her son plan to stay?"

"No, but I assure you, that will be the first question I ask my husband."

"Is there something else bothering you? I noticed you barely touched your food tonight, and when you came inside the room a moment ago, your face was terribly pale."

Brenna wasn't about to tell her about Raen, believing it was up to her, not a servant, to solve this problem. To condemn the laird's stepbrother would have severe ramifications, she imagined; God only knew, she would have been sickened if one of her own brothers' wives cried out against another brother. As Connor's wife, it was her dreaded duty to tell him, no one else.

"I wasn't very hungry tonight," she said in answer to Netta's question.

The servant left a few minutes later. After bolting the door, Brenna sat down on the bed and worked on her sewing. Ada had given her a bright saffron-colored cloth to put on the table, and Brenna was trying to embroider the colors of Connor's plaid into a square in the center of the material. Because she wanted it to be perfect, she labored well into the night, making certain each one of the stitches was straight, and if she kept to her schedule, she would be finished in just a few more days.

She didn't plan to put it on the table until she had sewn into squares the plaids she'd cut and stuffed with sheep's wool, which meant she would have to sew at least one hour every morning, but if the weather proved accommodating, she meant to sit outside with the other women and get to know them at the same time.

She wasn't going to sit about all day long though, especially when the sun was out, and so she decided to allow one hour each afternoon to go riding. Learning how to ride bareback intrigued her, and as Connor's wife, shouldn't she know how?

Besides, how difficult could it be?