The Wedding

Chapter 15

She was in for it now.

The very first words out of her husband's mouth when he came outside the stables indicated she had crossed that imaginary line inside his mind that separated what could be touched and what couldn't. Apparently he believed the black stallion belonged to him, and only him.

She would, of course, beg to differ, but she was intelligent enough to wait until he'd gotten over his fury.

"I would like to have a word with you in private, Brenna."

"Certainly," she replied, trying her best to look mildly interested and curious, and not at all concerned. She realized almost immediately she hadn't taken the right approach, and changed her attitude to one of indignation.

"I'm glad of it, Connor. It's about time you gave your wife a private moment. When exactly would it be convenient for you to speak to me?"

Her ploy didn't work. "If you don't want me to know you're nervous, you shouldn't back away from me. I would also suggest you stop looking over your shoulder for a means of escape."

She glanced at Crispin to see how he was reacting to his laird's intimidating tactics and was thankful the soldier didn't seem to be paying any attention at all. His gaze was directed at the bottom of the hill as if he were absolutely fascinated by something he was watching there.

Quinlan, however, was hanging on Connor's every word. He still looked a little too complacent to suit her. Not only did he know she was about to catch Connor's thunder, he was glad of it. Didn't the man have anything better to do than follow her around and report her every action to her husband? Apparently he didn't. Although it was probably unkind of her, she made note of the similarity between the soldier and her old nursemaid, Elspeth, who also took delight in telling on Brenna.

"I want this private moment alone with you now," Connor announced.

He waited for her agreement before instructing Crispin and Quinlan to join him for the evening meal, then started back up the hill toward the keep with Brenna at his side.

"My surprise didn't make you happy, did it?"

His snort was all the answer she required. "Are you upset because Willie belongs to you and you don't want anyone else riding him?"

"How many times did you fall?"

Since she was almost certain Quinlan gave him a detailed accounting of her activities, she decided to be completely honest. "So many times I lost count."

"What do you think would have happened if you had been carrying my son?"

She looked thunderstruck, for the possibility had apparently never entered her mind.

"I'm not. I only just finished… I'm not."

"Finished what?"

"Finished realizing I can't be carrying your child yet. I would never deliberately put our baby in jeopardy."

"And you will never ride the black again, will you?"

"Not even with a saddle?"

"The horse has never had a saddle on his back, and I assure you, he wouldn't like it. It's out of the question."

"All right then. Was there anything else you wanted to mention…or do?"

"Don't ever call him Willie again."

She could tell he wasn't going to change his mind. "I won't," she promised before blurting out, "Do you know you haven't kissed me once since you've been back? I cannot help but wonder if you've even thought of it."

He hadn't thought about much else, but he wasn't about to admit it. "We haven't been alone. Remind me tonight, and I'll kiss you then."

She didn't realize he was teasing her. "I'll probably forget," she assured him. "It really doesn't matter to me one way or another."

"Yes, it does. Watch where you're going. Some of the holes haven't been filled yet."

"Speaking of holes…"

"Not yet."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I don't want to hear a word about a chapel. Not now, not ever. Understand?"

"I understand you're being very stubborn."

She knew he was still a little upset about her plan to hide the keep behind a church. Still, he hadn't told her she couldn't, giving her hope that by tomorrow he would be more willing to listen to reason. Surely by then, she would have come up with a better explanation than the blunt truth. Admitting she believed the front of his home was downright ugly would only hurt his feelings, and for that reason, she would have to think of something else to tell him.

She moved on to a far more important matter. "When we go upstairs tonight, I need to have a serious talk with you. I have something extremely important to tell you," she whispered. "You aren't going to like it."

"Tell me now."

"I would rather wait until tonight. I just wanted to prepare you in advance," she added. "My news will surely break your heart."

His laughter wasn't quite the reaction she anticipated. "It's a serious matter," she insisted.

"I assure you, no matter how serious the news is, my heart's going to stay intact. Why don't you tell me now and be done with it? You sound as though you're dreading it."

"I am dreading it. I'm still going to wait until tonight to tell you, however. You're about to see your surprise, and I don't want to ruin your happiness with bad news."

She suddenly wished she hadn't tried to prepare him, because now her stomach felt as though it were tied in knots. How could she not be upset? She was going to start a war between two brothers, God forgive her, but she didn't really have any other choice, did she?

She had asked Father Sinclair that very question during confession, and while he had firmly agreed she must tell her husband when he came home, he also felt she should tell his soldiers right away. It had taken her a long time to convince the priest how important it was that Connor hear before anyone else. Father finally gave in after she promised him she would remain cautious and avoid ever being alone with Raen.

The priest assured her he was going to come back tomorrow to find out how Connor had reacted. She suspected his real motive was to make certain she was all right, and by then, she fully expected to be able to inform him that Raen had already been banished.

Connor pulled her back to the present by telling her to pay attention to where she was walking.

"Brocca's husband is waiting to find out if you want one of his hound's pups or not," he repeated.

"Why would he want to give me a pup?"

"It's all he has to give."

"But why…"

"It's a gift, Brenna. You've shown his wife kindness and he wishes to repay you."

"How thoughtful of him," she replied. "Would you mind having a hound inside?"

He shook his head. "I'll tell him you'll be happy to have the pup then. Try not to lose him, all right?"

"For heaven's sake," she muttered. "You're really doing your best to put me in a bad mood, aren't you?"

He didn't bother to answer her. He surprised her when he pulled her close to his side and put his arms around her shoulders.

"You aren't disappointed it's a hound?"

She gave him a curious glance. "No, of course not. Why would you think I would be?"

His voice was filled with laughter when he answered her. "It isn't a piglet."

"You do remember meeting me," she cried out.

He opened the door for her before explaining. "Of course, I remember. I also remember holding you in my arms. You weighed less than my plaid. I think you were about Grace's age."

"No, I was much older."

"You smelled like the piglet you had rolled up in your skirts."

"I couldn't have. I had just had a bath. My sister told me so."

"You were trying to tell me what to do even when you were a baby. I really should have known then."

She was having difficulty paying attention to the conversation, for his eyes were filled with such warmth, she really couldn't think about anything else. Lord, he was handsome. "Known what?" she asked him in a breathless whisper.

"That you were going to be trouble."

She thought that was about the nicest thing he had ever said to her, and it wasn't until she had let out a loud sigh in appreciation and told him thank you that she realized he hadn't given her a compliment.

He didn't laugh at her. In fact, he pulled her into his arms, leaned down, and whispered, "You're welcome."

She didn't know he was going to kiss her until he was doing exactly that. She felt as though she was being crushed against his hard chest, so powerful and fierce was his grip, yet his mouth was surprisingly gentle against hers. His tongue thrust inside to deepen the kiss, arousing a response she didn't expect or understand until it had ended and he was pulling back away from her.

Everything was suddenly different. She wanted to hold on to him for the rest of her life, and while she wanted to believe it was only because she was so relieved to have him home again to deal with Raen, she knew there was another reason as well.

She was in love with him.

The realization didn't make her happy. It made her miserable. How had she managed to make such a foolish mistake? He didn't love her; he just put up with her, that was all, so that he could have heirs.

He watched her closely, frowning with concern over the tears he saw in her eyes. "Mind telling me why you're crying?"

"It happened too soon," she stammered out. "I knew better, Connor, honestly I did."

"Brenna, what are you talking about? What happened too soon?"

She finally came to her senses. She wasn't about to admit she loved him and thought she'd rather stand naked in front of a church full of strangers than admit her mistake. Being vulnerable was bad enough, boasting of it would be horrible.

He wouldn't understand if she tried to explain it to him anyway. She doubted he could ever love her. So caught up was he in the past, he simply didn't have room in his heart for anything else.

"Will you answer me?" he demanded.

"I missed you," she blurted out. "I didn't want to, but I did anyway. You were gone a long time."

Her answer seemed to satisfy him. He kissed her once again, briefly yet with just as much passion, and then followed her inside and up the stairs to the main floor.

"While you were away, I gathered all the bits and pieces of information from the older men and women here and was finally able to put it all together."

"What did you put together?"

"Your past," she answered. "I know what happened to your father. I just wanted to tell you I understand why the ruins are still standing. You intend to keep them there until you've gained justice in your father's name."

"I would have explained if you'd asked."

"Then I will ask you my questions in future. Don't frown, Connor. I want you to be in a good mood when you see my surprise."

He braced himself for what he was about to see, gave her an abrupt nod to let her know he would try to be pleased, and then said, "Quinlan assures me you haven't done anything. damaging."

"Damaging? For heaven's sake, why would you think such a thing?" she asked before she remembered his reaction to the holes in his courtyard. "I plan to cover the mess made outside," she explained then. "After the soldiers put the posts down inside to brace the structure I thought to have constructed, and I…"

"Brenna?"

The warning was there in his eyes and in his voice. "Yes?"

"We aren't going to talk about it now."

"No, of course not. Smile, Connor. This is your homecoming. Besides, Euphemia may be inside, and I won't have her thinking we aren't happily wed."

His laughter surprised her. "Why does it matter what she thinks?"

How could he be so dense? "I must make her like me because she's your stepmother. You did tell me to honor her."

"I did?"

"Yes, or maybe I told you I would. It doesn't matter. She deserves our respect."

"Yes," he agreed.

Connor pulled the door open and waited for her to go ahead of him. She didn't budge. "I have one favor to ask you. Tonight, when we sit at the table together…"

"Yes?" he prodded.

She blushed while she blurted out the instruction to him. "Please look at me often, and don't frown at me. Try to hang on my every word, all right?"

Fortunately, she didn't require an answer, for she hurried on ahead into the entrance. A crowd of soldiers waiting for their laird bowed to her as soon as they saw her. She greeted each one by name, which surprised and pleased her husband, until he realized he was already looking at her and smiling and surely appeared to be hanging on her every word.

"Brenna, wait for me in the hall while I settle a few matters."

She bowed to him for the benefit of his followers and hurried inside. Her thought was to stand in front of the hearth so that she could see his immediate reaction to her additions.

She was halfway across the chamber before she realized everything was all wrong. She stared in disbelief, for the chamber was once again as stark and forboding as when she'd first seen it. Even the rushes were missing from the floors.

What in heaven's name had happened? Where was the lovely cloth she'd worked so hard to finish before Connor returned?

"Mi'lady?" Netta whispered from the archway leading to the back door.

Brenna gave the entrance a quick glance, saw that Connor was still fully occupied listening to the petitions of his soldiers, and then hurried over to the servant.

"What happened, Netta? Where are all the cushions?"

"Lady Euphemia had a fit when she sat down on one. She declared it was far too uncomfortable for anyone to suffer, and after trying out each one, she ordered them removed at once. She told me to burn them, mi'lady, so you wouldn't be embarrassed in front of your husband."

"The cloth… what about the cloth we put on the table."

Netta shook her head. " 'Twas an accident," she whispered. "At least that is what Lady Euphemia told me. She insisted on having wine with her nooning meal. The color's red, if you'll remember, mi'lady, but she misjudged her reach for her goblet and she spilled it everywhere. She insisted the goblet knocked the pitcher over. Oh, mi'lady, it's ruined now. I know you stayed up half of every night our laird was away so you could finish the stitches, and it looked so lovely too, mi'lady. Why, even Quinlan remarked that it was."

Trying to hide her own disappointment, she patted Netta and tried to console her.

"Accidents will happen," she said. "I hadn't realized the cushions were uncomfortable, though. I tried them all and thought they were… all right, but if Lady Euphemia…"

"She said they were lumpy."

"I see. Well, then, I will try to do better next time. What about the rushes? They were all right, weren't they? And they certainly gave the room a pleasing scent. So did the flowers," she added. "They're gone too, aren't they?"

"Lady Euphemia also thought the rushes were nice, but she tripped as she tried to walk to the table and almost fell to the floor. She explained her eyesight isn't what it used to be and bid me to remove the rushes as soon as possible. She was certain you would understand, mi'lady."

"Yes, of course."

"The flowers she admitted she didn't like at all."

"Did she explain why?"

"She said they reminded her of death because mourners always carry them to the graves."

Brenna's shoulders slumped. What must Euphemia think of her now? "It was thoughtless of me to put flowers on the mantle. I wasn't thinking, Netta. I never once considered she would have such a reaction. I must find a way to make up for my mistake," she added with a nod.

"Mi'lady, you couldn't have known. The chair Lothar gave you has been sent back to him. I wish now he hadn't spent half the day rubbing a shine in the wood."

"Why was it sent back?"

"Lady Euphemia confessed she was afraid to sit in it because it was so wobbly. I tried to assure her it was perfectly sound, but I couldn't sway her. She seemed to be terrified of falling. I think it's because she's getting on in years and knows her bones won't heal if she breaks one. I couldn't help but wonder if she worried about such things when she was younger. No one's bones heal well, young or old," she added with a nod to let her mistress know she spoke with authority.

"Age must make her more cautious, and we must respect that."

"There's one last thing. I hate to mention it now, after the disappointment you've suffered."

Brenna was afraid to find out what else Euphemia had found unsatisfactory, but forced herself to ask anyway. "Yes?"

"She asked me if there was anything else you meant to add to the chamber. I mentioned that you were working on a banner to hang on the wall. I boasted about how fine it was," she thought to add. "Lady Euphemia wanted to see it, of course. She seemed pleased when I told her how clever you were with your needle and thread, and how you'd labored over your task such long hours."

"Did you show it to her?"

Netta nodded. "Oh, mi'lady, she looked so disappointed in your efforts. She clucked her tongue like a chicken would and shook her head."

Brenna could feel her face burning with embarrassment. "And what did she say to you?"

"She said the stitches were all lopsided, but she assured me she understood you didn't know any better."

"Where is my tapestry now."

"Lady Euphemia didn't want you to be humiliated in front of your husband and his followers." Tears of sympathy had gathered in Netta's eyes, which only made Brenna's embarrassment all the more horrible.

She felt like such a failure, and yet, at the same time, she felt guilty because she was angry. Hearing that she didn't know any better each and every time she tried to please Euphemia made Brenna feel as though her mother was being attacked for failing to properly educate her daughter.

"It's gone, isn't it?" she whispered, her voice flat with defeat.

"Yes, mi'lady. Euphemia started taking the stitches out at noon, and by the time she went up to her room to wash before dining tonight, only threads were left on the floor."

Connor called her name as he strode into the hall and looked around him with interest.

Brenna let out a weary sigh and turned to go to him. Netta caught hold of her hand. "I thought everything looked lovely, mi'lady," she whispered.

The last thing Brenna needed now was pity. She smiled so that Netta's feelings wouldn't be injured, and then said, "I'll do much better with my next attempt."

The servant bowed to her mistress and then left to tell the servants that the food should be readied to be carried to the table.

"Have you finished your discussion with your soldiers?"

His wife's question made him smile. Every one of his men wanted to ask him if they could have their things returned.

Connor hadn't understood what they were talking about until one of them pointed to the stack of items on the chest with the hint that one of the daggers looked very like the one his wife often used. They didn't dare accuse their mistress of deliberately stealing from them, for they knew she tended to be forgetful when she was in a hurry or having a fine time. Each soldier had actually defended Brenna to him, and for that reason he hadn't laughed.

Emmett had explained it to his laird. "When she's carefree, she forgets to pay attention," he explained. "She makes our wives feel as important as you do, Laird. They've all taken a fancy to her, of course, and would be very upset if they heard you were to sanction her because of this wee problem she seems to have in forgetting to bring things back. She leaves as many of her own things as she takes," he thought to add in Brenna's defense.

Connor promised not to criticize his wife and suggested that in future, whenever something was missing, they or their wives were simply to come inside the keep and look through the stack on the chest. They needn't ask his permission again.

"I can see from your smile that your meeting went well," Brenna remarked.

"It did," he assured her. "I solved the problem, but not the cause."

"You'll accomplish that soon enough," she replied.

His laughter echoed around the chamber. "I doubt that, but now I find I really don't want to anyway."

"Why don't you want to?"

"Because I like the cause. Don't ask me to explain. Show me your surprise instead. I've made you wait long enough."

"I can't."

"You can't wait?"

"Show you your surprise."

"Why can't you? Have you changed your mind?"

"Yes, that's it," she said. "I've changed my mind."

"Why?"

"Why?" Her mind raced for an excuse so he wouldn't know all her efforts had been found lacking. He was bound to think she was incompetent then, and she wasn't incompetent at all. She'd just been in too much of a hurry.

Fortunately, she remembered the medallion she'd had made for him. She'd meant to leave it for last anyway to give it importance.

"It's up in the bedroom. Would you like to see it now? I could go…"

"What would you like to do?"

"Wait," she decided.

"Then I'll wait."

"Thank you," she answered before asking him if he'd seen his stepmother yet.

"No."

"She should be coming downstairs any minute now. Have you spoken to Raen yet?"

"No, but he should be back in another hour or two according to Quinlan, and then he'll stay only one more night before he leaves for good," Connor said.

"He's leaving?"

She didn't mean to sound so blissfully happy about Raen's departure, but she couldn't help it.

He raised an eyebrow to her reaction. "He returns to his laird tomorrow."

"And where might that be?" she casually asked, hoping the man lived on the other side of England.

"A long way from here. I doubt we'll see him again for another five or ten years, Brenna, is something wrong?"

"No, no, of course not."

"Then why are you holding on to me?"

She seemed surprised, which made him shake his head in confusion. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, but she quickly moved away from him. The mere mention of his stepbrother had made her instinctively move closer to her husband. She didn't explain, of course, and ended up reminding him how much she'd missed him.

"You mentioned you did."

"Yes, but I wanted to mention it again. Will you excuse me now while I run to the kitchens and speak to the cook?"

After he granted her permission, she kissed him good-bye.

"What happened here, Connor?" Quinlan called out his question from the entrance and came striding into the hall.

Crispin followed him. "What happened where?" he asked.

"The chamber… it's back the way it was. What happened to all the changes mi'lady made?"

Connor didn't know what he was talking about. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back while he listened to his explanation.

"Did mi'lady tell you why it was changed back?"

Connor shook his head. "She said the surprise was upstairs."

"Why would she take the cushions and the cloth and the chair upstairs?" Quinlan asked.

"Perhaps she changed her mind," Crispin suggested.

"I told you she was acting strange. Did she take the rushes upstairs too?"

"It would seem so," Crispin replied.

"If that isn't peculiar…" Quinlan began

"I would appreciate it if you would stop saying that," Connor snapped. "There isn't anything wrong with my wife. She simply changed her mind, and if she didn't, there was another reason. When she's ready, she'll tell me."

The discussion ended then and there. Quinlan wanted to hear all about Dawson's capture, and while Crispin explained, Connor thought about his wife. He decided he should start paying more attention to her and to the goings-on in his home.

Euphemia joined them a few minutes later. Connor bowed to his stepmother and waited at the head of the table until she was seated before he pulled out his chair. He sat by her side for over an hour, listening to her talk about his father and the past, while Crispin and Quinlan continued their discussion over by the hearth.

Raen came in just as the trenchers were being placed on the table. Brenna and Netta entered through the back door at the very same time.

"Connor," Raen shouted. "It's about time I saw you. It's been a long time."

"It has been a long time," Connor agreed.

Raen embraced him. "You're looking fit these days. Marriage must agree with you."

After kissing his mother, Raen sat down on the opposite seat to face her. Connor was now flanked on both sides by his relatives, and though he was going to ask his stepbrother to move so that his wife could sit closer to him, he didn't make an issue out of it when Brenna hurried to the opposite end of the table, pulled up a stool, and sat down.

"I've been waiting a long time for this reunion and now feel as though my life is complete again," Euphemia announced. So overcome was the woman to have her two sons together, tears came into her eyes.

Brenna was also overcome with emotion. She wasn't overcome with joy, however, but with sadness. The affection shown by the two brothers made her want to weep. It was apparent Connor was happy to have his relatives with him, and how was she ever going to tell him what his stepbrother had done to her? Just thinking about the heartache she was going to cause made her stomach upset.

Connor spoke very little throughout the meal. He was pleased with his commanders because they chose to flank their mistress and sought to include her at every turn in the conversation.

Brenna caught her husband staring at her and quickly smiled at him, willing him with her gaze to reciprocate.

For Connor, the evening was full of revelations. Netta, he noticed, showed her affection for Brenna at every opportunity and beamed every time she received a compliment from her mistress. On the other hand, she didn't appear happy to serve Euphemia, and it was apparent she didn't like the woman.

He thought he had it all figured out and almost laughed because it had been so easy. Quinlan had mentioned that Brenna seemed to be having difficulty with Euphemia. The two women were obviously involved in some sort of tug of war as to who would give the orders. The right belonged to Brenna, of course, and while he couldn't understand why she didn't realize it, he wasn't going to interfere. He would let her solve the problem in her own way, and in her own time, because he knew, no matter how he explained it, she would end up thinking he didn't have faith in her ability.

Quinlan had been right about her lack of appetite. As soon as Crispin handed her the dagger she'd dropped in the courtyard, she thanked him because he'd thoughtfully cleaned it for her, and then moved the food around on her trencher, but didn't take one bite.

Raen was relating an amusing story that made everyone but Brenna laugh. Before he could tell another, Connor asked his wife if she was feeling well tonight.

"Yes, thank you. I am tired though. It's been a long day."

Connor suggested she go on upstairs. "I'll join you in a few minutes," he promised.

Raen also stood. "I'll be happy to escort your wife up the steps," he offered. "I understand she fell going up Kincaid's staircase," he added in the event Connor wondered why he would offer.

Brenna didn't shout her denial, but she came close. "Thank you for offering, but I wanted to have a word with Crispin," she explained, choosing him over Quinlan because he'd been so quick to stand. "If I wait until tomorrow, I might forget. Good night then," she added as she latched onto the soldier's arm to get him moving.

Crispin was honored with the duty. He kept waiting for her to explain what she wanted to talk to him about, and when they reached the door to his laird's chamber, he finally reminded her. "You mentioned you wanted a word with me, mi'lady?"

"I did say that, didn't I?" she said while she tried to think of something important to tell him. Her mind, unfortunately, went completely blank, forcing her to either tell him the truth or make him think she was a complete idiot.

"I made it up."

"You didn't wish to have a word with me?" he asked, trying to understand.

"Actually, I didn't want Raen to escort me, so I lied to get you to."

"Will you explain why you didn't want Connor's stepbrother to assist you?"

"No one needs to assist me, but since he offered, I had to think of something so he couldn't. Now do you understand?"

Crispin shook his head as he opened the door for her. "You still haven't told me why."

The soldier was just as tenacious as Quinlan. "Will you promise me you won't tell Connor what I tell you? I wish to explain it all to him first. It may take me a day or two to get up enough courage," she added. "Though I do plan to try to tell him tonight."

"Tell him what, mi'lady?"

"That I don't like his brother." She had softened the truth. Raen was as evil as MacNare, as cunning as a demon, and as vile as a snake waiting to slither out of the shadows to strike. "I know Connor holds Raen in high regard. Surely you noticed how happy he was to see his brother again."

"I know Connor's quite good at hiding his true feelings. I will, of course, honor your wishes and remain silent."

"Thank you, Crispin."

"Mi'lady, will you answer a question for me?"

She had already entered the room but caught the door as it was closing behind her. "Certainly," she agreed.

"Quinlan couldn't understand why you removed all the additions you'd made to the hall. He found it very perplexing."

"Everything turned out to be unsatisfactory. That's why it was removed." She didn't give him time to ask her any other questions, bid him good night once again, and then quickly shut the door.

There was much to be done before her husband joined her. Once she'd bolted the door closed, she stripped out of her clothes in front of the fire Netta had already prepared for her, washed her entire body with rose-scented soap, and then put on her robe and slippers. While she waited for Connor, she tried to come up with an easy way to tell him about Raen without breaking his heart.

Now that the vile creature was leaving, did she really need to tell Connor anything? Brenna tried to make herself believe no harm would be done if she remained silent, yet she realized she had to let him know, no matter how much pain she caused him. By daring to touch her, Raen betrayed his own brother, and it would be wrong for her not to let Connor know.

Unfortunately, she couldn't come up with a way that would soften the truth, but she hoped the medallion would prove to him he would always have her loyalty.

The wait was torturous. Leaning against the wall helped her stay awake, though only just barely. She didn't dare get into bed, however, because she would fall asleep then. Relief that her husband was home was surely the reason she was so tired tonight. Because of her worry over Raen, she hadn't gotten any rest at all while he was away. All that was going to change now, of course.

She heard Connor's booming voice and then his heavy footsteps as he came up the stairs. She unlatched the door and moved back to the window to wait for him. She would greet him with a kiss, help him prepare for bed, and then give him his gift.

Then she would tell him about Raen.

She ended up doing something altogether different. The second her husband stepped inside the bedroom, she ran to him, clasped the sides of his face, and kissed him with all the love and passion she possessed.

Overwhelmed by her unbridled show of affection, he wrapped her in his arms and held her tight against him. He was amazed to find he was married to such a gentle, loving woman, and when she put her arms around his neck and shyly whispered of her need to make love, he realized his own need more than equaled hers. While he had been away, an eternity it seemed to him, he had missed everything about her, intensifying his need until it had become an aching loneliness during the dark hours of the night.

"If I promise not to leave again for a long while, will you let me close the door?"

Reluctant to move away from him for even a moment, she kissed the side of his neck before finally pulling away. "Lock it against intruders," she said.

Suddenly feeling uncertain and nervous, she backed away, stopping in the center of the room to wait for him. She gazed in approval and admiration at her husband. His shoulders and chest were heavily muscled, yet she remembered how tender his touch had been each time he had reached for her.

Feeling her own pulse leap in anticipation of what was to come, she drew a shaky breath and then looked up at his face again. And found him smiling at her.

"Have you forgotten what I look like?" he asked, his left eyebrow raised only just barely. To his delight, her face flooded with color.

"It would seem so," she replied. "Your hair's dripping wet, which means you went to the lake without me again. I'll get you a cloth."

She couldn't seem to make herself move. Connor leaned against the door and patiently waited for her to get past her embarrassment. He fervently hoped she took a long time, because he was thoroughly enjoying himself watching her. Her hands were clasped behind her back, giving him an enticing glimpse of her bare chest and tiny waist. His appreciation quickly turned to desire, and within a minute or two, he was beginning to throb with his need to slide the palms of his scarred hands over her smooth, flawless skin.

Somewhat surprised by her own loss of composure, she looked up into his smoldering gray eyes, drew another shaky breath, and tried to remember what she was supposed to do.

"A cloth," she whispered, smiling anew because she hadn't completely lost her senses after all.

"You were going to get one for me."

Her laughter followed her across the chamber to the chest. No longer at a loss for words, she gave him apologies, explanations, and orders while she gracefully knelt down on the floor and carefully moved the burning candle so she could open the chest.

In the mood to do whatever she wanted him to do, he went to the side of the bed, as she had instructed, and sat down to wait for her. He knew exactly what was going to happen the second she stood close enough. He would wrap his arms around her, put her on the bed, and make passionate love to her.

She had other ideas. Standing between his thighs, she tried to dry his hair with the cloth, but found it impossible to pay attention to what she was doing once again, as he had untied the belt to her robe and was now slowly sliding his hands down her chest. He cupped her breasts with his hands, his thumbs gently brushing across her nipples, and then he leaned into her and began to drive her out of her mind with his mouth and his tongue.

He had to tell her to breathe. While he wanted to lavish her with erotic pleasure before he entered her, his own discipline vanished when she removed her robe and pushed against his shoulders to get him to drop back onto the bed.

Neither of them could bear to wait any longer to join together as one, and as he moved between her thighs and slowly entered her, he stared into her eyes to watch the pleasure overcome her and was nearly undone by the erotic sensations her reaction evoked in him.

She drew him down and kissed him, and when the pressure inside intensified and she knew she was about to shatter apart from the splendor, she began to silently chant "I love you" until it became a desperate plea inside her heart to hear his pledge of love.

He buried his face in the side of her neck, heard her soft whisper vowing her love again and again, and was shaken and humbled that such an exquisite miracle could have happened to him. Only when he felt her tighten around him did he quicken his pace to give her fulfillment and claim his own. Emotions he had never even acknowledged before remained unspoken.

In the aftermath, they held each other, spent, satisfied. Silent now, they listened to their pounding heartbeats.

As was her endearing habit, she wept because of the sheer wonder of their lovemaking, and when she was finally able to control herself again, she flung her arms back on the bed and smiled up at him.

"It would seem I missed this most of all while you were away."

He nodded with arrogant satisfaction. "It would seem so," he agreed. He leaned down, kissed her, and then rolled onto his side. "You have my permission to give me this very same surprise tomorrow."

Her laughter pleased him. "Then it wouldn't be a surprise, would it? Besides, that wasn't it. I have something else for you."

Several kisses later, she convinced him to let her leave the bed long enough to get her gift for him, and when she returned, she wrapped the plaid around her and sat down, facing him near the foot of the bed.

He had already decided that no matter what the gift was, he would be happy to receive it, even if he had to pretend. Her feelings were at issue now, and that was all that mattered to him. Brenna had obviously gone to a considerable amount of trouble to please him, and so he decided to give the gift the importance it deserved. He sat up, propped his shoulders against the wall behind him, and then bent one leg up so that he could rest his arm on top.

"Come closer," he said.

She did as he asked and folded her legs under her before pulling the plaid up around her again.

"Closer," he repeated in a gruff voice.

She denied his request by shaking her head. "I know that look in your eyes, Connor. If I move any closer, you'll grab me."

Admitting she was right, he nodded agreement. "I have never been given a gift before, and two in one night is more than I deserve."

"Two? What other gift did you receive?"

"You don't remember what you said to me when I was inside you?"

She frowned with concentration while she thought about it. "Hurry up?" she teased.

"Besides that," he said with a grin.

"I don't recall. Did I say something else?"

Aye, you did, he thought, you told me you loved me.

Perhaps she had just been carried away by the heat of their lovemaking, unaware of the words she uttered, just the way she had prayed aloud without realizing it on the day he met her. But she had said it, which meant she'd thought it, and that was all that mattered to him.

"Why are you smiling? I haven't given you your gift yet."

"The way you wanted me tonight was all the gift I could ever want."

"But there's more."

"There will be, if you'll move closer to me."

She shook her head again. "You're going to have to wait. I'm going to tell you two stories."

"Just one," he said.

"Two," she insisted.

His sigh was deliberately exaggerated. "All right, lass."

"My first story concerns something that happened to me when I was a little girl. I was too young to remember the details, but I remember being very frightened. My father sat me on his lap and told me what had happened, and don't you dare frown, Connor; you're going to hear about my family now, like it or not."

"I'm not frowning."

"You were thinking about it."

He laughed. "I wasn't. It's all right for you to talk about your relatives now. It wasn't before."

"Why?"

Because your heart and your loyalty belong to me now, he thought. "I'll explain later," he said. "Continue with your story now."

"My father told me I was the reason for a new tradition in our family. We were on our way to an uncle's holding when we stopped for the nooning meal. Everyone wanted to stretch their legs, and when it was time to leave, my father forgot to count."

"Count?"

"There were eight children, Connor. He always counted to make certain he had all of us."

"But this time he didn't count."

"No, he didn't. He thought I was with my oldest brother, Gillian, and Gillian thought I was with Arthur, another brother," she explained. "I wasn't though. As was my habit at the time, I wandered off, got lost, and the family didn't realize they'd left me behind until they were well on their way."

Connor was frowning now. He pictured his wife around Grace's age and couldn't even begin to understand what terror she must have experienced.

"Gillian found me before the others, although I was told my wails were loud enough for the king of England to hear if he'd leaned out the window, and that very night, my father began his new tradition."

"The medallion."

She nodded. "The older brothers and sisters embraced the idea and promised to keep their medallions close at all times. Mother worried the baby and I would choke ourselves with the leather necklaces around our necks, and so I was only allowed to wear the medallion whenever we left the holding."

She held his gaze for a long minute and then took hold of his hand and turned it so that his palm was facing her. Her fingers lightly brushed across the scars puckering his skin, but he saw only sadness in her eyes now, not repulsion or pity.

"You must have been frightened," he said in an attempt to get her to look up at him instead of the marks from his past. She tightened her hold on his wrist when he started to pull back. He conceded to her wishes for the moment and waited for her to continue.

"I recovered," she whispered. "But you haven't, have you, Connor?" The sadness had moved into her voice now.

"Because it isn't finished yet," he explained. "You want me to tell you how I got the scars, don't you?"

"No."

He felt a curious mixture of relief and disappointment.

Brenna ached for the pain he had suffered and tried to think of something to say to make him realize she wasn't trying to console him now, but simply acknowledging the terrible injustices of the past so that he would know she understood.

"These scars mark your past," she whispered as she slowly lifted his hand.

Again he tried to pull away, and she resisted him a second time. "Yes," he said, angry now.

Brenna leaned down and kissed each one of the marks.

He felt the caress all the way inside his heart and his soul. Stunned by what she was doing, he closed his eyes. Her touch shattered him, yet filled him with warmth at the same time. And he was renewed. He couldn't understand how it had happened, or why, but the empty gnawing ache was gone, and only her love remained.

She didn't stop until she had kissed each palm, and then she reached down beside her and put the medallion into his hand.

He opened his eyes again and stared down at the etching carved into the wood.

"A long, long time ago, there lived a boy named David," Brenna began, quietly. "The land he and his family and friends lived in was plagued by a terrible giant named Goliath. It came to pass that David had to fight this enemy. He was too young to use a sword. He could have carried his father's sword, the way you did, but unlike you, he didn't have to crawl across burning embers. You both had tremendous courage, though, and I think he too would have dragged others to safety the way you did, because he was just as noble as you were, Connor."

Overwhelmed by what she was saying to him, he couldn't speak. She knew everything and still felt he was courageous and noble. She didn't understand, of course. He wasn't worthy of such praise yet, because he hadn't found justice in all the years he had searched.

He shook his head at her. She nodded. And then she began to trace the outline of the figure of David with her fingertips.

"The boy only had a sling to use for his weapon, and so, when the time came for him to face Goliath, he reached for a stone," she said, pausing to trace the little circle at the bottom of David's feet. "You believe your father's sword is your strength, don't you, Connor?"

He didn't answer her. She stared into his eyes, waited no more than a few seconds, and then said, "It isn't. Your strength comes from within. It's your determination, your patience, your skill, but most of all, it's you thirst for justice. David slayed the giant and saved his people. You have already saved your followers."

"But I have still to slay the enemy."

"Look around you and see what you have accomplished. David will always represent what you were, and what you have become. You are worthy."

She lifted the medallion up so he could see it more clearly. "This is your past and your present." And then she turned it over. "And this is your future."

He recognized the symbol, for it was the same as the one on his wife's medallion. "The sun."

She was offering him her love and prayed he would give her his love in return.

He didn't say a word, or give her any other indication that he would, or could, give her what she wanted. He seemed to withdraw then, looking aloof, distant, and yet she could see the moisture in his eyes and knew that the words she longed to hear were there, inside him, locked away with his feelings.

"You have only to open your heart to accept this."

She placed the medallion in his hand again and then leaned close and kissed him.

She tried to pull back. He wouldn't let her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her over and over again, desperate now as he ravaged her mouth. He didn't understand or know if he was kissing her to show her how much he cared, or if he was deliberately keeping his mouth on top of hers so that she couldn't beg him to give her what he knew he couldn't.

Their lovemaking was wild, uncontrolled, savage, and it was only after he had satisfied her twice more and she had collapsed into sleep on top of him that he acknowledged his greatest weakness.

She terrified him.