The Wedding

Chapter 6

She disliked him intensely until noon the following day. Then she remembered her plan to be practical. She really should try to get along with the vile man, shouldn't she? Besides, she wasn't one to wallow in misery for long periods. There were far more exciting things to think about, although admittedly, when Connor had promised her she could go back home as soon as she gave him a son, she was so outraged, she didn't believe she would ever be able to forgive him. What kind of monster was he to think she could leave her child behind?

He wasn't a monster, however. He was a man, that was all. And a stubborn, thoroughly impractical, and ignorant one as well.

Sufficient time hadn't passed to heal what she considered a grievous injury, but by afternoon she could at least look at him with less hostility.

She believed she'd come a long way in a very short while. She wasn't having murderous thoughts about her husband any longer, and she was beginning to notice he wasn't completely heartless and unfeeling. He seemed to be as concerned about Gilly as she was. He slowed their pace so her mare would be able to keep up, riding by Brenna's side all the while, and every once in a while, he actually looked worried.

After they'd crossed a wide meadow carpeted in rich green clover and purple heather she thought was too lovely to tread upon, Connor slowed the pace to a walk. He called a halt a few minutes later, as soon as they reached the protection of the forest.

"Quinlan, take the others and ride ahead. Wait for us near the crest."

Brenna noticed the surprise in Quinlan's expression. He looked as if he wanted to argue with his laird, but after giving Brenna what she could only interpret as a pitying glance, he rode on ahead.

She wasn't left guessing why Quinlan was feeling sorry for her. Connor waited until his men were gone, then forced her to look at him. She imagined she saw ice chips in his eyes, so furious did he appear to be.

"You will stop frowning at me this minute."

She had to wait until he let go of her to answer. "I didn't realize I was frowning at you. Is that why we stopped?"

"No," he answered. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Are you still in pain?"

She immediately lowered her gaze in embarrassment. In the blink of an eye, her face was flooded with color.

"I'm waiting for your answer."

"Must we talk about it?"

"Answer me," he ordered once again, though in a much more pleasant tone of voice.

"No, I'm not in pain."

"Was I too rough? Did I tear…"

"I'm fine, really. Please don't concern yourself."

"Brenna, will you get over your shyness with me soon?"

"I fervently hope so."

He found himself smiling in spite of his irritation. She'd sounded desperate.

He still wasn't completely convinced she was telling the truth about her condition, however, and therefore refused to let the subject go just yet.

"If you aren't in pain, why are you so restless in your saddle?"

She was surprised he'd noticed. He'd barely given her a glance all the while he'd ridden by her side, after all.

"I didn't realize how observant you were."

"I notice everything. So do the others, or they wouldn't be riding with me. It's one of the reasons we stay alive."

"Did you notice you broke my heart?"

He looked exasperated. "I did no such thing."

"We argued and…"

"We didn't argue."

"Then what did we do?"

"You asked questions. I answered them."

He really didn't understand at all. The revelation stunned her, and with it came a glimmer of hope for their future.

Perhaps Connor wasn't cruel or heartless, after all. He was just ignorant. She was blissfully relieved by her discovery.

"What else did you notice about me?" she asked.

He noticed every little thing about her, he wanted to answer her, such as the way she'd drawn her breath in when the meadow covered in a rainbow of colors first came into view, the radiant smile that came next, and then the frown when he wouldn't let her stop and explore because it would slow down his men.

"I notice you frown every time you look at me."

She let out a sigh. "I didn't understand that you didn't break my heart. I also thought we argued, but you have explained we didn't."

He nodded. "Why are you so restless in your saddle?"

He was going to make her admit her embarrassment. "There is a little tenderness," she whispered. "I've been shifting my weight to ease the discomfort."

He lifted her from Gilly onto his lap and put his arms around her. His chin dropped down on the top of her head next. "Is it better now?"

"Yes, thank you."

"I'm not going to be able to touch you tonight, am I?"

He actually sounded a little disappointed. She had trouble believing him, of course. Then she thought he might be jesting with her and looked up to see if he was smiling. His expression didn't give anything away, however, and so she asked, "You want to touch me again?"

"Of course. Why does that surprise you? I told you you didn't disappoint me, and I want children as soon as possible."

She leaned away from him. "But after we, directly after… You told me you weren't disappointed, but I know you weren't very happy either."

"Why would you think such a thing?"

"You rolled away and ignored me. You needn't pretend now just to make me feel better. I'm bound to improve."

"Ah, lass, you'll kill me if you do."

She turned scarlet. "Then you were happy… after?"

He let out a long sigh. He couldn't understand why she needed to hear him admit it.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me how you felt?"

"Why would I?"

He was ignorant of women's feelings, she reminded herself so she wouldn't get angry. "You could have given me a compliment or two."

He gave her a surprised look, and she immediately recognized it. It was the same look he had given her when she'd told him she wanted to be comforted.

"I cannot guess what you want. You have to tell me, Brenna."

She shook her head at him. "I no longer have any need for compliments, so you can stop looking appalled. It only just occurred to me that I didn't compliment you either. I certainly wasn't disappointed."

"I know."

She ignored his arrogant remark. "I believe we should start over." She nodded to emphasize her conclusion before repeating it. "Yes, that's what we must do. As of this minute, we're starting all over."

What was she talking about? Start what over? If she hadn't looked so pleased with herself, and so damned happy, he probably would have demanded she explain herself.

Brenna suddenly realized how considerate it was of him to gain privacy for their intimate talk about her condition. "I'm grateful you waited until we were alone to discuss my discomfort, and I feel better because you were concerned."

"That isn't why we stopped."

She looked so disappointed, he decided to soften the truth. "It was only one of the reasons we stopped. I also wanted to talk to you about your horse."

"Gilly's worn out, isn't she?"

"Yes," he agreed. "We're going to have to leave her behind. She won't make it up the last climb," he continued on, in spite of the fact that she was vehemently shaking her head at him. His wife still didn't understand it was not proper to disagree with her husband. He hoped she'd figure that out soon.

"She's ready to collapse even now."

She knew he was right about Gilly's condition, yet she wanted him to realize what he asked of her was impossible. "My brother gave me Gilly years ago. I'm very fond of her. Surely you can understand I can't leave her behind. Couldn't we stay here until she regains some of her strength?"

"No."

"Please be reasonable."

"I am being reasonable. The horse can't possibly regain what she never had. She wasn't bred for endurance."

"But if we lingered just a little while…"

"It's too dangerous to stay here. Would you put the lives of my men above those of your animal?"

Her shoulders slumped in defeat. There didn't seem to be any point in continuing to try to sway him, especially since he'd given her such a valid reason.

"I know you're right," she whispered. "I would feel terrible if something happened to your soldiers. Gilly might well injure herself if I continue to press her. I was just being selfish, I realize that now. Where should we leave her?"

"Right here is as good a place as any."

She dared to shake her head at him again. Connor was again taken aback by her defiance. In time she must learn to have faith in his judgment.

She had certainly changed since their initial meeting. 'Twas a fact she'd done a complete turnabout. She could barely speak a coherent word to him when she'd first met him, no doubt because of her fear. Now, however, she didn't seem intimidated at all. Admittedly, he wasn't sorry about the change, for he probably wouldn't have liked being married to a woman who trembled every time he looked at her. He had expected Brenna to be like the other women he'd known, and he realized now his assumption had been wrong. She wasn't anything like the others; she was wonderfully, and exasperatingly, unique, too damned beautiful for her own good and his peace of mind, and while he found her boldness refreshing, he really didn't believe it was necessary for her to tell him about every little detail in her life.

Arguing with him regarding her horse was just one example; unfortunately there were already countless others.

"Gilly couldn't possibly survive on her own. Do pay attention, Connor. I want you to understand. You look a bit stunned," she added with a nod. "Have I said something to upset you?"

He counted to ten before he answered her, hoping to calm his rising temper. His voice still had a noticeable sting in it when he asked, "Did you just tell me to pay attention?"

She lifted her shoulders in a dainty shrug. "I might have," she admitted. "And that upset you? Is that why your jaw's clenched tight? I'll apologize if you'd like me to."

"Listen carefully," he ordered in a suspiciously soft voice. "You do not tell your husband to pay attention." He waited for her to nod before continuing. "I am not upset with you, but honest to God, you do try my patience."

Because she wanted him to change his mind about Gilly, she didn't think it would be a good idea to contradict him now. It almost killed her to keep silent. He was such a stubborn man, determined to have things done his way and none other. He was also her husband, however, and so she would try to get along with him. If he wanted to believe he wasn't upset, she'd let him, even though it was most apparent to her that he was. The muscle in the side of his face was twitching, for heaven's sake, and if that wasn't a telling sign that he was bothered, she didn't know what was.

Getting along with this impossible man was going to be the death of her, she decided. Pride would be his downfall, unless he learned to be less arrogant.

"Thank you for explaining," she said. She didn't sound very sincere, but she didn't choke on her words either, and that had to count for something, didn't it?

"I just thought you might wish to know that Gilly is used to being pampered, and therefore won't know how to forage for food."

He was now thoroughly exasperated with her. They were talking about an animal and not a child, weren't they? His wife didn't seem to understand the difference.

He was just about to take a much firmer stand when she waylaid him by touching the side of his face. He felt as though he were being stroked by the wings of an angel. She looked like an angel too, damn it all, with those enchanting blue eyes and that innocent expression on her face. While he knew the caress had been calculated to make him forget his own thoughts, that very thing happened.

He took hold of her hand so he could concentrate. His wife was being ridiculous, of course, but he knew it would be a mistake to tell her so. She'd only increase her efforts to sway him.

Diplomacy was called for. Unfortunately, he didn't have any. "She'll be just fine," he snapped.

"She won't be fine. She'll be dead."

"You will stop arguing with me, Brenna," he said, allowing his anger to show.

She wasn't the least bit intimidated. "I'm not arguing. I'm just trying to make you understand how important Gilly is to me. She's like a member of my family. I even named her after my brother."

"He must have loved that," he said dryly.

She ignored his sarcasm. "No, Gillian didn't like it much at all, but he eventually got used to it. Can't you think of someone kind and loving to take care of her?"

"Do you think I would admit to knowing anyone kind and loving?"

She was determined not to lose her temper, no matter how much he provoked her. Gilly's welfare was at issue, after all, and she was responsible for her.

"I know of someone who might take her," Brenna offered.

"No, we aren't taking her back to England. Quinlan's family doesn't live too far from here, but I've already replaced everything they lost. You aren't going to let this go, are you?"

"If you tell me I must, I will try. Will you at least think about your decision a little longer before you make it final?"

Connor finally conceded. "I'm not an unreasonable man, and so I have decided to think about it."

Less than a minute later, he admitted Quinlan's father would be willing to have Gilly.

She was so pleased he'd decided to cooperate, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him. She only meant to give him a quick kiss to show her gratitude, but what she meant to do and what she ended up doing were vastly different. It was all Connor's fault anyway, because he'd shown her how wonderful a kiss could be. She thought she was only following his lead, and before she could pull away or draw a proper breath, his mouth was moving over hers in a long, deep kiss that made her tremble for more in no time at all. He became more demanding and she became even more uninhibited, until her tongue was every bit as wild as his in her quest to satisfy him. The taste and texture of him mingled with his scent, and God help her, it wasn't long before she felt her control slipping away.

She forgot all about the outside world. They could have been surrounded by an army of heathens and she wouldn't have noticed, or cared. Nothing mattered but the warlord in her arms.

Fortunately, Connor didn't lose his sanity. He abruptly pulled back, then grabbed hold of her hands and forced her to stop tugging on his hair and let go of him.

He knew she didn't have any idea how shaken the kiss had left him. He told himself not to look at her mouth again until he was in complete control, but damn if he didn't look anyway. Exactly what he knew would happen did happen, of course, because he ravaged her mouth a second time to keep her from tempting him to do far more intimate things to her, and when at last he found enough strength to end it, he was furious with himself.

"You make me forget where we are, wife."

Believing he must have enjoyed the tender moments as much as she had, she smiled with pleasure.

He lost his temper then and there. "What in God's name did you think you were doing?"

The radical change in him took her breath away. "I was…" Lord save her, what had she been doing?

He wouldn't wait long enough for her to regain her wits. "Yes?" he demanded.

"I was showing my appreciation."

"If this is how you show your gratitude, I wonder how you were able to remain innocent until your wedding night."

She was stunned. How dare he ruin such a perfect kiss by making such a vile remark about her character?

Her temper rose to the occasion. "It's miraculous really. My father was constantly dragging me away from the men I attacked. They were all completely helpless, of course, and like you, they never kissed me back."

Her comment was laughable, given the fact that she'd been so timid and terrified on their wedding night.

Although he still thought she should learn to be more demure around him, he had to admit he continued to be impressed by her boldness in standing up to him. Didn't she understand she wasn't supposed to give him her opinion unless he asked for it? She should give him her undying loyalty and faith in everything he said or did… shouldn't she?

Hell, he didn't know what she was supposed to do. He'd never been married before and was basing his beliefs on observation and past experience with women he'd taken to his bed. They'd been thankful, damn it, and certainly had never shown any boldness. And he'd become bored in no time at all.

Brenna was a refreshing change from what he was used to, no doubt about it, but he didn't have the faintest idea how to get her to do what he thought she should do.

Connor wasn't certain why he tried to provoke her again, but he thought perhaps it was because he wanted to hear another of her outrageous remarks.

"Dare you try to placate me by giving me such an ignorant rebuttal?"

"Nay, Connor. I was simply trying to give you what you wanted. It was apparent to me that you were deliberately trying to make me angry. I let you succeed. You may thank me later."

His smile gave him away of course. "You really don't understand why I became irritated, do you?"

She wasn't at all happy about his amusement. "No, I don't, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me."

"It isn't proper for you to kiss me unless I have given you permission."

She could feel her spine stiffening in annoyance. "Then I won't be kissing you much in future."

"Ah, wife, you will."

The conversation abruptly ended when he shoved her face against his chest.

"Will you stop doing that?" she demanded. "It's rude." He didn't acknowledge her demand and in fact didn't speak to her again until late that evening when they finally stopped for the night.

He waited for Brenna to notice Gilly wasn't tethered near the other horses. The woman would probably pitch a fit then and possibly weep, God help him, which he was fully prepared to stop before she started.

She didn't say a cross word to him, but after he saw the look on her face, he began to wish she were shouting at him. The sadness in her eyes was far more bothersome.

He suffered her disappointment in him throughout supper because he was determined not to explain his actions to her, but an hour later, he changed his mind. He told himself he was making this one exception because she was so fond of the mare. Hell, she'd elevated the creature to a family member.

He waited until he caught her alone near the water to talk to her.

"Brenna, I haven't betrayed you, and I want you to stop looking as though I have. It wasn't possible for me to take the time to send someone with Gilly to Quinlan's family."

"I understand." Her voice was completely devoid of emotion, and she gave her reply to the ground so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"No, you don't understand," he muttered. "MacNare and a fair number of his clan were following us, and though I would have loved a good fight, I couldn't give in to the pleasure because you would end up in the thick of it. I wasn't about to put you in such danger."

He raised his hand when she tried to interrupt him, and continued on. "However, as soon as we get home, I'll send one of my soldiers to find your mare and take her to Quinlan's father then."

"Thank you, Connor. Is our enemy close now?"

"Close enough," he answered.

"I didn't hear them."

"They weren't close enough to hear."

He was ready to dismiss the topic and turned to leave.

She wasn't. "Connor?"

"Yes?"

She hurried after him, then suddenly stopped. She'd thought to kiss him on the cheek to let him know how much she appreciated his taking the time to explain the circumstances, but the memory of how he had reacted to her affection the last time was still fresh enough to hurt, and so she decided not to provoke him again.

"Thank you for confiding in me."

"Don't get used to it. It isn't customary for me to explain my actions to anyone. I doubt I'll do it again."

He seemed determined to ruin every kind moment with a nasty remark. He also had the discourteous and grating habit of walking away from her whenever he wanted to end a conversation, forcing her to chase after him.

"Are we safe now?"

"Yes."

He refused to give her any other details, such as explaining why they were safe now but hadn't been safe earlier in the day, and she was simply too worn out from trying to get along with him to attempt to coax him into giving her additional information.

She went to the creek and washed as quickly as she could. The water was much colder here than the water she'd bathed in the night before. By the time she put on fresh undergarments and stockings, even her scalp felt numb. She hadn't been able to locate the trunk filled with her gowns, but thankfully she still had two clean but wrinkled ones left in her satchel.

The cold night air was rapidly stealing what little strength she had left. She draped the shorter tunic over a bush in hopes that the damp air would ease the wrinkles out and sat down to brush her hair. She rushed through her night prayers to get them over and done with while she braided her hair, and when she was finished, she could barely find enough strength to put her shoes back on and stand up again.

She was thinking how lovely it would be to sleep in a warm bed and immediately felt guilty because poor Gilly wouldn't have a warm stable tonight. An unfamiliar noise turned her attention then. The sound had been whisper faint and seemed to come from the opposite side of the cove, although she couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. The trees were too thick, and the moon wasn't casting sufficient light down on the branches, but she was still certain she'd heard something that shouldn't have been there.

She stayed completely still, closed her eyes, and patiently waited several minutes before she heard the sound again. It was as clear as a shout to her now and very like the familiar sound of steel brushing over steel.

Men with weapons were coming their way, God help them. They weren't allies, she knew, because friends wouldn't be sneaking up on them, would they? No, of course not, she reasoned. They would shout their greeting.

She couldn't tell how many there were, but she had a feeling there were more than just a few.

She tried not to let her fear control her actions. She wanted to run as fast as her legs would carry her to warn Connor of the danger coming their way. She walked instead and tried not to make any noise at all. She'd heard them approaching, after all, and any sound she made was bound to give them her exact location.

Lord, she was scared. She called to her husband in a soft voice as soon as she reached the narrow clearing, then saw him near a cluster of trees in deep discussion with Quinlan. They obviously had sought privacy for their talk, because they stood well away from the other warriors. She could tell from their rigid stances that the issue under discussion was serious. Connor didn't like what Quinlan was telling him, as he was shaking his head every other minute in obvious disagreement.

She hurried forward and called his name again as she approached, but he put his hand up in silent command not to interrupt him and didn't even glance her way.

She couldn't wait until they finished, of course-they'd all be dead if she did-and so she braced herself for his disapproval, then reached up and pulled his hand down.

The defiant action gained his full attention. His initial irritation vanished the second he saw how frightened she was.

"What is it?"

"Soldiers are coming toward us, Connor. I couldn't see their number, but I heard them. They're trying to be quiet."

Much to her confusion, her startling announcement didn't get the reaction she'd anticipated.

Connor smiled. "You actually heard them?"

It was apparent he hadn't grasped the ramifications yet. "Yes, I heard them. I don't believe they're allies. They wouldn't care about making noise if they were, would they? We should leave with all possible haste. Why are you smiling? Don't you understand the danger we're in?"

She guessed he didn't understand when he didn't immediately move. She hadn't thought him at all slow-witted until now, and unfortunately, his friend seemed to suffer the same affliction. In fact, he was worse. He was having so much difficulty comprehending their dire situation, he laughed.

She felt like throwing her hands up in despair. She settled on wringing them together instead. "Connor, I'm… concerned."

"You have no reason to be concerned."

Connor usually didn't notice how a woman was groomed, but he couldn't seem to stop staring at his wife's hair now. He couldn't imagine what she'd tried to accomplish. Honest to God, he'd never seen anything quite like it.

He considered himself to be an astute man, however, and knew Brenna had extremely tender feelings, so he was careful to sound only mildly curious and not critical when he asked her to explain what she'd done. "What the hell have you done to your hair, wife? Did you mean to tie it in knots all over your head?"

She couldn't believe he wanted to talk about her appearance. "My braid? You want to discuss my braid?"

"Ah, so it's a braid," he said. "I hadn't realized."

She started backing away from him. She shook her head several times, and every time she moved, one of the knots came undone. "Can't you see how worried I am?" she cried out.

He couldn't imagine why she was worried, unless she hadn't been paying attention to him when he'd told her not to be concerned. Or had she heard and chosen not to believe him?

He wasn't going to lecture her, no matter how much she provoked him. No, he would simply help her reason it all out in her mind. She was an intelligent woman; it wouldn't take her any time at all.

"Exactly why are you worried?"

She was overwhelmed by his incomprehension and was, for the moment, rendered speechless. No one could be this obtuse, not even warlords.

Quinlan couldn't keep silent a moment longer. He felt he was far more astute than his laird in matters concerning women, and so he naturally sought to lend his counsel before his laird put his foot in his mouth and injured his lady's delicate feelings. "I believe your wife is still upset about the men she heard approaching. She might have thought we were in jeopardy."

Brenna was vigorously nodding her head in agreement when Connor denied the possibility. "No, my wife wouldn't dare insult me that way," he replied, keeping his gaze directed on her all the while. "She knows I'll protect her from harm. Isn't that so, Brenna?"

No, it wasn't so. How would she know if he was capable of protecting anyone or not? Just because he looked like a warlord from hell didn't mean he could fight like one. She didn't think it would be a good idea to tell him her thoughts, though. The way he stared at her made caution a much wiser choice, and she found herself nodding just to placate him.

The remaining knots came apart then, and her hair was once again where Connor wanted it to be, in soft curls down about her shoulders.

Brenna was just about to leave when the truth dawned on her. "You knew those men were there."

Connor looked at her, but said nothing.

"How long have you known?" she demanded.

"Since they joined us."

"They aren't your enemies."

"Of course not."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded. "You should have."

"I should?"

"You're supposed to tell your wife important news."

He shook his head. Where in God's name did she come by these ideas? "I think not."

"I think so."

Connor couldn't believe she'd contradicted him. He gave her a hard stare and folded his arms across his chest.

Quinlan knew what that meant. His laird was getting angry. It was only a matter of time now before Connor said something he would later regret. Because he was Connor's friend, Quinlan couldn't let that happen. "Mi'lady, may I suggest you put your plaid on?" he asked. "Your husband wouldn't want you to catch a chill."

She looked as though she hadn't heard him and her attention remained focused on her husband. The tension between the two continued to build, for their gazes were locked on each other. Connor's was challenging, Brenna's was defiant, and neither one of them appeared willing to back down.

"The air's damp tonight," Quinlan interjected in yet another attempt to get his mistress's attention. "We're in for a fierce thunderstorm." His last comment did the trick. Quinlan felt like sighing with relief when Lady Brenna finally looked at him.

"Of course it's going to rain, she said. It's a fitting end to a hellishly long day. Have you seen my trunk, Quinlan? I'm in need of my heavy cloak."

"You'll wear my plaid," Connor told her.

He hadn't raised his voice to her, but she acted as though he had by backing farther away from him. "My trunk, Quinlan?" she reminded the soldier.

"We left it behind with your saddle, mi'lady."

"Please go and get it for me."

Quinlan turned to Connor to judge his reaction to her request before answering.

His laird shook his head but remained stubbornly silent, much to Quinlan's consternation, leaving him to fend for himself. "It isn't possible for me to go and get it for you. We left it behind several hours ago, and we've traveled a fair distance since then, over rough terrain, if you'll remember. We had to leave it, mi'lady," he quickly added when he noticed the look in her eyes. "The wagon wouldn't have made it up the narrow climb."

"Why did you leave it behind without asking my permission first?"

"By your laird's command," he explained, thinking that important fact would end the discussion once and for all. He was mistaken. Lady Brenna wasn't ready to let it go.

"Didn't it occur to either one of you that there might be some important reason why I wanted to keep the trunk?"

If she'd given him time to think of a reply, Quinlan was sure he would have thought of something appropriate to say to her, but she didn't give him time. His mistress's outrage seemed to be gathering momentum as she continued. "My sister Joan gave me the trunk and I had planned to put my children's clothes inside. I treasure it."

Quinlan suddenly felt about as low and inadequate as an Englishman must feel every time he looked in a mirror. He turned to his laird again, willing him with his hard stare and a slight nudge to take over the battle. Damn it all, Quinlan wasn't married to the distraught woman. Connor was. Let him suffer her disappointment.

Connor continued to stay stonily silent, however. "Mi'lady, it was necessary," Quinlan said. "Isn't that right, Laird?"

Brenna didn't particularly care what her husband had to say about it. She was too disheartened to listen to anyone any longer. The injustices done to her in the past several days were taking their toll now, and she thought that if she didn't get away from her husband for a few minutes, she'd start screaming.

She didn't bother to excuse herself; she simply walked away. A sudden thought made her stop. "My saddle, Quinlan? Did you say you also left the saddle my dear sister Rachel loaned to me?"

"Did you have another one, Brenna?" Connor asked dryly.

Lord, how she hated his condescending, be-reasonable tone. "No, I didn't." she answered.

"Mi'lady, it was also necessary to leave your sister's saddle behind," Quinlan blurted out.

"I treasured it too," she whispered.

Quinlan's shoulders slumped. He had known she would say that.

"I cannot help but wonder why you didn't ask my permission first, though."

Quinlan vowed not to say another word. He stared at his laird, imitated his threatening stance by folding his arms across his chest, and simply waited.

Connor didn't take the hint fast enough to please his friend. "Wouldn't you like to answer your wife?" Quinlan sounded downright desperate.

Connor let his friend see his exasperation before turning to Brenna. "I wouldn't be laird if I asked permission before I made decisions, especially insignificant ones. You were merely curious, weren't you? You wouldn't show disapproval of your husband's actions in front of his followers. Isn't that right?"

She surprised him by agreeing. "Yes, I was simply curious, and no, I would never criticize you in front of your followers. Do you have the patience to endure one more question, husband?"

"What is it?"

"When do you suppose you'll leave me behind?"

Connor's mood darkened in the space of a heartbeat. He took a threatening step forward and briskly ordered her to come to him.

Quinlan moved back, looked to the heavens, and began to pray for divine intervention. His mistress had never seen Connor lose his temper, and though Quinlan knew his laird would never physically harm her, or any other woman for that matter, he could do considerable damage to her heart.

He wouldn't be cruel, though, and for that reason, Quinlan didn't try to intervene. The fat was in the fire now, and she had placed it there when she deliberately provoked her husband by asking him such an atrocious question. She would have to suffer the consequences of her actions, and by moving a little distance away from the two of them, Quinlan hoped she would realize he wouldn't, and couldn't, come to her assistance.

Connor didn't have any intention of losing his temper, for he knew that his bride was worn out. The shadows under her eyes indicated her exhaustion. He was fully responsible for her condition, of course, and believed the only thing he could do about it now was force her to bed. Getting her to relax enough to sleep was going to be a little more difficult. She'd have to get rid of the tension inside her first, and perhaps arguing would serve that purpose. A good fight always left him feeling relaxed, and while he admitted he didn't know anything at all about how gentlewomen like Brenna would react, he didn't believe there was any harm in letting her rail at him. Once she was rested, she would become reasonable again, or so he hoped, and then she would beg his forgiveness.

"You're being unreasonable, Brenna."

"I believe I'm being very reasonable."

"You do? Then explain your reason for asking me such a question. Did your sainted parents leave you behind?" He fully expected a denial, of course.

She gave him the truth instead. "As a matter of fact, they did." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Now Connor was going to have an even lower opinion of her dear parents.

"They didn't leave me on purpose. They just forgot. Surely you see the difference."

"Do you expect me to believe they forgot you? No parents would leave their child behind, even English parents."

"Your wife looks as though she means what she says," Quinlan interjected. "Did they leave you at home, mi'lady?"

She shook her head. "I spoke in haste."

"Then you exaggerated?" Connor asked, thinking he was being considerate because he hadn't asked her to admit she'd lied to him.

"You're making this more important that it was. I wish I'd never said a word now, because you're going to think ill of my mother and father. You just don't understand. It only happened a couple of times, and they were still loving parents. They had eight children, and with so many, they were bound to forget about one of us every now and again. It was all my own fault anyway. I should have stayed with the others."

"They left you twice?"

The bit of added information she'd mentioned had stunned him.

"You look furious, and I cannot imagine why. You weren't left behind. I was, and I assure you, it didn't bother me at all."

"Of course it bothered you," he countered. "Did they ever forget any of the others?"

"No, but I tended to wander…"

He wouldn't listen to any excuses. "Where did these loving parents leave you?"

The pigheaded man was never going to understand, and she was suddenly too tired to keep on trying to make him. Lord, he was a trial, and if she didn't find a little peace and quiet soon, she was going to start screaming like a madwoman.

Connor didn't look as if he was in any mood to leave, and so she decided she would.

He had other inclinations. He wasn't going to let her walk away from him until she satisfied his curiosity. "I want an answer."

"I have finished discussing this topic."

The look he gave her suggested she change her mind.

"Honestly, Connor, you're just like a flea chasing after a hound. My parents left me in the middle of the countryside. Are you happy now? Or was there something more embarrassing you wanted me to admit?"

She didn't wait around long enough to find out. She didn't bother to ask permission to leave either, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from bowing her head to both men before she walked away. She blamed the courtesy on her mother because she'd been relentless in her attempts to turn her daughters into proper ladies.

Owen called out to his mistress as she passed him. "Mi'lady, if you're looking for water, it's in the opposite direction."

She answered the soldier, but her voice wasn't strong enough to carry across the clearing.

"Now what?" Connor muttered as soon as he saw how startled Owen looked. The soldier glanced his way before chasing after his mistress.

Quinlan didn't dare smile, though he was vastly amused by the resignation he'd heard in Connor's voice. "Owen looked surprised. Your wife must have said something to alarm him."

"Of course she did," Connor replied. "Honest to God, Quinlan, she's a damned nuisance."

In Quinlan's estimation, she was still just about perfect. Connor didn't realize his blessing yet, but Quinlan could tell from the way Connor studied his wife with such a perplexed look on his face that he was already captivated by her. He obviously didn't like the way he reacted to her if his dark mood of late was any indication. From what Quinlan had observed about his mistress, he could only conclude she was having just as much difficulty understanding her reaction to her husband.

"She's going to cause quite a disturbance at home."

"I can't let that happen."

"I'm not sure you can stop it from happening," Quinlan said. "The men will have trouble concentrating on their duties. They'll want to spend their days staring at your wife, and their women won't like it much. Have you any idea how beautiful she is, or haven't you taken the time to notice?"

"I'm not blind; of course I noticed. Her appearance is yet another flaw I must contend with."

"I don't see it as such."

"You're a shallow man. That's why you don't see it as such."

Quinlan thoroughly appreciated the insult and smiled in reaction.

"Laird?" Owen shouted. "May I have a moment of your time? It's important."

He waited for Connor's approval before coming forward. "Mi'lady told me she wasn't going to the creek. She's going to get her trunk. Then she thought she might want to walk all the way back to England. Those were her very words to me, and given with a smile, mind you. I tried to dissuade her, but she wouldn't listen to reason. Do you think she really means to try?"

Connor didn't answer the soldier. He doubted Owen would hear a word he said anyway, as Quinlan's laughter was gratingly loud. He considered shoving his friend to the ground just for the sheer hell of it, then decided he couldn't really fault him. Connor would find Brenna's independence amusing too, if he weren't married to the impossible woman; but he was married to her, and that made everything different.

Why couldn't she be more agreeable? Her impulsiveness was going to drive him to distraction. She surprised him every time he turned around, and he didn't like it at all. She should be more predictable, shouldn't she? Oh, he should have known she was going to be trouble the minute he met her. Hell, his wife was thoroughly unique. Connor wasn't a fool; he realized his good fortune. Still, he wished she would hurry up and get used to him; once she did, she'd calm down enough for him to be able to concentrate on more important matters.

He was beginning to think he would never understand how her mind worked. How could he when she was constantly changing on him? One minute she was soft and willing, and the next, she was stubborn and difficult.

He couldn't be expected to put up with a whirlwind. Most men surely wouldn't have been as patient as he'd been, but he was finished with that now. He could take only so much provocation in one day, and he had had his fill.

"I wonder if Lady Brenna realizes she's going the wrong way," Quinlan remarked. "She'll be knocking on Kincaid's door if she keeps walking through the night."

"Mi'lady knows she's going north," Owen said. "She told me she's deliberately making a wide circle so as not to disturb the soldiers patrolling the creek."

Quinlan turned to Connor. "Shouldn't you go after your wife?"

"My brother's soldiers won't let her get far."

"I believe she expects you to come after her."

"The hell with that," he muttered.

He contradicted his own decision a second later, when he shoved the two men aside and went striding after his wife.

He had to go farther than he'd expected. He found her leaning against a tree a fair distance away from the clearing. She looked defeated. He didn't like to see her like that, especially when he realized he was largely responsible. Still, he was still thankful she wasn't weeping.

She put her hand up in a silent command to stop him from coming any closer, which he completely ignored, and as soon as he reached her, he lifted her into his arms.

He expected her to fight him; she surprised him by putting her arms around his neck and resting her head against his shoulder. She was suddenly soft and willing again.

"My brother told me no woman in her right mind would marry me, and if you really meant to go after your trunk, I would have to say…?"

"That I'm not in my right mind?" she responded. "If I'm demented, it's all your fault. You pushed me right over the edge, Connor."

He smiled in spite of himself. His wife said the most outrageous things to him.

"You meant to keep on walking?"

"No. I meant to have a few minutes alone. You knew that, didn't you?"

No, he hadn't known, but he decided to pretend he had. "Yes," he said.

"I was never alone, though. You knew that too, didn't you?"

"I did."

"Who are the two soldiers following me?"

"My brother's sentries. You're on Alec's land, if you'll remember."

She didn't remember any such thing. She yawned then and turned her attention to a more worrisome problem. "I seem to have misplaced my shoe. I can't imagine how it happened."

He didn't have any trouble imagining it at all. She was constantly leaving her things about. "I'll find it," he promised. "Brenna, what was it really all about back there? Do you know?"

"Do you mean to ask me if I had another reason for becoming upset?"

He had just asked her that very question, hadn't he? "Yes," he said.

She began to rub the back of his neck while she thought about how she could make him understand. Connor doubted she was even aware of what she was doing, but he found the caresses very pleasing.

"I understand now what was bothering me. I didn't understand then."

He rolled his eyes heavenward. Getting a straight answer out of her was turning into strenuous work. "And?" he prodded.

"The trunk and the saddle and my mare were all gifts from members of my family. You're trying to take them away from me, and I can't let you do that. I'm not ready to let go."

"Exactly what am I taking away?"

"My family."

"Brenna…"

She wouldn't let him continue. "You are trying to take them away, aren't you? And if I let you succeed, what will I have left?"

"Me."

The impact of what he said struck her, and yet she still tried to resist the truth. She didn't want him; she wanted her family.

"You have me." His voice was hard now, insistent.

She looked up at him then, and her childish resolution to cling to the old and the familiar seemed to lose its importance. The look in his eyes mesmerized her. There was such tenderness and vulnerability there.

"Do I have you, Connor?"

"Aye, lass, you do."

She smiled then, her doubts gone. He had surely spoken from his heart, or so she believed, and her own heart warmed in reaction. She had seen this side of him only once before, on their wedding night, when he'd taken her into his arms and made love to her. The warlord had vanished then, and she had embraced the man. Now he was giving her this magical gift once again. How could she resist him?

She nodded her acceptance, her mind at peace, because she finally understood that what she was doing was both holy and right, made so by the church and God himself the minute Father Sinclair had united them as husband and wife, and although she'd been telling herself she would make the best of her circumstances, she admitted now she hadn't really accepted the marriage.

It was time for her to stop fearing her future and let go of her desperate hold on her past, and as soon as she made the decision to do just that, the most wondrous thing happened to her. She willingly gave herself to him.

"You have me now, Connor MacAlister, because I have decided that you should."

She sealed her promise with a kiss, in spite of his specific order that she must never, ever kiss him without first gaining permission, and when she'd finished, she tucked her head under his chin and closed her eyes.

He was never again going to be surprised by anything she said, Connor thought. She'd decided? Aye, those had been her very words all right.

"You and I are starting over," she whispered.

Here we go again, he thought to himself. He still didn't understand what she was talking about, but if she'd asked him for his agreement, he would have given it just to make her happy. He really shouldn't have cared if she was happy or not, but he did care. He consoled himself with his hope that once she adjusted to her new life, she would stop having such peculiar ideas.

Connor leaned back against the tree and stared down at his wife. She seemed serene now, which meant he was finally going to get some peace and quiet and could figure out what in hell he would say to his brother tomorrow, and wasn't that all that mattered anyway?

"Connor?"

"Yes?" he asked.

"I'll take good care of you."

He was stunned by this promise, and though he probably should have been insulted, because it was his duty to take care of her and not the other way around, she'd sounded so sincere, he knew she meant to please him.

She fell asleep before he could set her straight. She moved closer to him until her soft mouth was pressed against the base of his neck. She tightened her hold on him as well, and he realized he liked the way she tried to get as close as she could to him. He liked the way she sighed in her sleep too. When her guard wasn't up and she wasn't trying to argue with him every other minute, she became sweet and loving. She was beginning to trust him, he knew, or she wouldn't have allowed herself to fall asleep in his arms, and with a smile. He realized he liked that most of all.

Connor didn't have any idea how long he lingered in the forest holding his wife. The sound of thunder rumbling in the distance forced him back to more practical matters, and he picked up her misplaced shoe and started back to camp.

He was in a much better mood by the time he reached the others. His men had built a tent large enough to accommodate three grown men and had covered it with thick animal skins loyal allies had given them on their way to collect Brenna. The tent had been strategically placed at the far end of the clearing, with the entrance facing the forest so that his wife would be assured of privacy when she awakened.

In one corner of the tent were the possessions Brenna had left by the creek. Connor added her shoes and stockings to the pile.

She was sleeping so soundly, she didn't stir at all while he saw to the task of removing her clothes. Too late, he realized he should have left her alone. As soon as he untied the ribbon holding the top of her undergarment together, the material parted all the way down to her waist, and a fair amount of her full breasts spilled out. It was impossible for him not to react physically. From the moment he'd awakened early that morning, he'd wanted her again; now the need consumed him. He fought his private battle for a long while, but in the middle of the night, while the storm raged around them, she moaned in her sleep, rolled over, and threw herself on top of him. He knew, then, the war wasn't finished. She couldn't even be cautious in her sleep.

His hand went to her thighs, and as he was parting them with the thought of entering her then and there, he realized what he was doing and forced himself to stop.

He jarred her awake trying to get her off of him before he hurt her. She sat up next to his side and, obviously disoriented by the pounding of the rain upon the skins, whispered his name.

"It's all right, Brenna. Go back to sleep." He sounded angry. He was sorry about that, but damn it all, he'd only just realized he had the discipline of a pig. She wasn't helping him regain his control, of course. One side of her chemise had just dropped down to her elbow, and God help him, it took all his strength not to tear the thing off her. Every time lightning streaked across the sky, light poured in through the opening, outlining her beautiful body.

She fell asleep sitting up. Had he not been observing her, he wouldn't have believed anyone could fall asleep so quickly.

"Lie down," he ordered with a gentle nudge.

He should have been more specific, he realized a scant second after she threw herself down on top of him again, hitting his chest hard enough to make him think she'd knocked herself senseless.

"Get off of me."

His gruff voice awakened her. "No," she whispered.

"No?

"No, thank you," she corrected. "I'm cold. Shouldn't you do something about it?"

God save him, she was even telling him what to do when she was half asleep.

"What would you have me do?"

"Put your arms around me."

He felt her shivering and immediately did as she had instructed him to do.

"Did I wake you, Connor?"

"No."

"Are you cold?"

"No."

She began to stroke his chest, hoping her gentle touch would calm him. Perhaps then he would tell her why he was acting so prickly.

"What are you doing?"

"Soothing you."

She had to be jesting with him. Soothing? She was slowly driving him out of his mind, and he was fairly certain she was doing it on purpose.

"Stop provoking me."

"What's wrong with you? You're acting like a bear."

He didn't try to address the ludicrous comparison she'd just made, concentrating instead on making her realize what she was doing to him. "I want to be inside you again. Now do you understand why you should get the hell off me?"

She didn't move. "Do I have a say in the matter?"

"Yes."

"Do you mean to say that if I told you no, you would honor my wishes?"

Hadn't he just said he would? "If you tell me no, I won't touch you."

She started drumming her fingertips on his chest. He immediately put his hand on top of hers to get her to stop. "You'd best learn to be cautious, Brenna."

She didn't pay any attention to his instruction. "In England, wives can't deny their husbands. My mother told me so."

"Some men think the way I do."

She was amazed. She suddenly felt as though he'd given her the wondrous gift of power over her own body, and she immediately wanted more. "Regarding other matters then, do I…"

"No."

"Why not?"

"You cannot deny a command given to you by your laird."

She'd already done exactly that on several occasions now and had suffered no ill effects from denying her laird's orders, but she was intelligent enough not to remind him. She couldn't stop herself from straightening out his rather twisted reasoning though.

"I didn't marry a laird. I married a man."

"It is the same."

No, it wasn't the same at all, she thought to herself. Oh, she knew what was expected of her when they were with other people, but when they were alone, he was simply her husband.

She didn't believe it would be a good idea to correct his backhanded reasoning now and would wait instead until he was in a better mood.

"If I were to tell you yes, I would like you to touch me again, would it end the same way? Would you turn away from me without saying a word?"

"Of course," he replied.

"Never mind then."

He was stunned by her denial and couldn't understand why his praise had angered her.

She moved away from him, closed her eyes, and said a prayer for patience.

He rolled over on top of her, careful to brace his weight with his arms as he stared down into her eyes. "I told you I wasn't disappointed."

"You were also angry though, weren't you?"

Aye, he had been angry, though not with his wife. His fury had been self-directed, and upon reflection, he realized it was purposeful as well, for he had it as a shield to guard himself against his own vulnerability. She had dared to touch his heart, and honest to God, he still didn't know how he'd let that happen. Damn it, he didn't even like her.

Connor was quick to recognize his lie and let out a low growl of frustration. He decided then that since what had already happened couldn't be undone, as long as he stayed in control in the future, he would be content.

"Are you ever going to answer me?"

He leaned down and began to nibble on her earlobe, feeling arrogantly pleased when he noticed she shivered in reaction. "What did you ask?"

She couldn't believe he would treat her concerns so lightly. She repeated her question and added a nudge to get him to pay attention.

"I wasn't angry with you."

He could see she didn't believe him. His wife obviously needed more praise for her performance, he supposed. He wasn't sure what to say that would make her happy. He had been satisfied. And well-served, he admitted. She surely knew he never would have left her until both of them had reached fulfillment. He wasn't at all used to explaining anything to anyone, however, and perhaps that was why he wasn't any good at it, he reasoned. He needed to say something now, though, and so he decided to sum up his reactions with one word that would certainly convince her she had proven satisfactory.

"Finished."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I was finished."

Because of their close proximity, he'd naturally been considerate and spoken in a low voice. His wife wasn't as considerate. She shouted her displeasure into his ear. "You are the most pigheaded, insensitive, barbaric…"

He clamped his hand down over her mouth before she could finish giving him her opinion. She could have come up with another hundred remarks too, if he'd kept silent and let her think of some, but he interrupted her concentration by asking her the most appalling question, and she had to think about giving him an answer sure to destroy his pride for a full month.

"Do you want me to make love to you again?" He lifted his hand away from her mouth.

"When hell freezes over." She didn't actually shout, but her voice was still loud enough for his men to hear.

"You will not shout at me ever again. Is that understood?"

"It is," she answered.

"My hearing is never going to be the same."

"I'm sorry. What you said took me by surprise and I… Finished, Connor? Is that how you thought to reassure me?"

"It was a compliment. I was obviously satisfied with you or I wouldn't have been finished. I'm a man of few words, Brenna."

"I've noticed."

He turned his attention to the rewarding pleasure of kissing her.

"I don't usually feel so unsure of myself," she whispered. "But it was my first time."

"I noticed."

He kissed his way down the side of her neck.

"Why are you doing that?"

"I like the way you taste."

She shifted her position to give him better access to her shoulder. "How do I taste?"

"Like honey."

He heard her sigh in the darkness. It would have been easy for him to take her by surprise, but he would never do such a dishonorable thing. Brenna was going to have to give him permission, and if she didn't give it soon, he would have to leave her while he had enough discipline.

"Do you know what I think?" she whispered.

"No, but you're going to tell me, aren't you?"

"I don't want you to-never mind. I mean to say that I…" She couldn't go on, for Connor had just reached the valley between her breasts, distracting her entirely.

"You're soft everywhere. You make me burn to have you."

She thought his words were wonderfully romantic. For a man of few words, he was doing exceptionally well at giving her exactly what she longed to hear.

"Is there anything you don't like about me?"

"Aye, there is," he whispered. "You talk too much."

"You turn my head with your flowery words, husband. Make love to me now."

"I'll hurt you."

He didn't seem concerned about her discomfort though, for he'd already pushed her chemise down to her hips. He paused to kiss each of her knees before finishing his task of ridding her of her undergarment.

His hands were everywhere. He stroked her legs, her thighs, her hips, and her breasts. His gentle touch was maddening and made her restless for more. She wanted to caress him with the same care he was showing her and was about to demand he let go of her when he snatched the very thought right out of her mind by leaning down and kissing her breasts. His tongue brushed over one nipple, and she thought she would die from the exquisite torment, and then he began to suckle. She squeezed her eyes shut and made a sound very like a whimper.

Her stomach was just as sensitive to his touch, and then he moved lower. She couldn't imagine what he thought he was going to do, until he was there, at the junction of her thighs. She kept her legs locked together to keep him from going further. He forced them apart and continued to do what he wanted to do, and she was soon too caught up in the rush of ecstasy his mouth and his tongue evoked to be properly appalled.

He made love to her in ways she'd never, ever imagined possible. She couldn't make herself stop arching up against him. She raised her knees and cried out when she felt herself begin to tighten around him.

He couldn't wait any longer to be inside her. He knelt between her thighs then, lifted her hips, and entered her with one powerful thrust. He tried to remember to be gentle with her, but damn, his control had deserted him again and it was impossible to hold anything back. He wanted it to last all night. She wouldn't let him slow down though. She drove him on with her sweet cries and her passionate kisses. He didn't know if he was hurting her or pleasuring her. Her climax forced his own, and once he'd given her his seed, he didn't have enough strength left to keep from collapsing on top of her.

She was in much the same condition. Her breathing was uneven, her heart was pounding a frantic beat, and she was trembling all over. It took her long minutes to make herself stop sighing and start thinking again. Then she wished she hadn't bothered. Reason meant worrying, and dear God, how could she ever look at him again after what she'd begged him to keep doing to her?

She had acted like an animal in heat, hadn't she? She was suddenly desperate for reassurance before her embarrassment turned into shame. She wouldn't beg or demand he convince her that what they'd done had been all right, or let him know she was at all embarrassed now. He might say things just to appease her then, and not mean any of it. She'd catch him by surprise, she decided, so that he wouldn't guard his reaction.

"Connor?" God help her, even her voice was trembling. "Are you dead then?"

He smiled against her neck. "No."

"Did you hurt me?"

She couldn't believe she'd asked him such an absurd question. She'd meant to tell him he hadn't hurt her, hadn't she?

It was apparent to him that she hadn't quite recovered from their lovemaking just yet. He was arrogantly satisfied, of course, because he was fully responsible for her condition.

His heat was making her drowsy. She didn't want to fall asleep before she'd gotten rid of her embarrassment and meant only to close her eyes so she could concentrate.

"Do you know what just happened?"

She smiled in anticipation, for surely he was now going to give her the reassurance she needed. She should have known better.

"Hell just froze over."