[Dalyia]

Chapter 9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Leave it for our dogs*" Crispin suggested.

Connor nodded before he walked away.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm not angry with you."

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

"Yes* but it was necessary."

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

"Yes."

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

"Don't think about it."

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

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

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

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

"How can you know for certain?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Would such a reaction change what happened?"

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

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

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

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

"Me."

"Gilly belonged to me."

"But you belong to me*" he reasoned.

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

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

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

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

"I didn't do it."

"Do what?"

"Throw it away."

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

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

"And what?"

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

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

"Is it important?"

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

She found herself fervently hoping so.

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

"Who did you say the soldiers came from?"

"Hugh."

"Is he an ally of MacNare's?"

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

"Is he your ally then?"

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

"I wouldn't trust him."

"I don't."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're certain of this?"

"Yes."

"Should women also fear this man?"

"No."

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

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

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

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

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