Lairds' Brides Series - book 2 - The Wedding by Julie Garwood

[Dalyia]

Covering her up didn't make his primitive urges go away. Now all he wanted to do was tear the plaid and her gown off her.

He stared into the distance instead.

"I'm pleased you're thinking about this."

She certainly gained his full attention with her remark. "You are?"

"Yes."

He gave her a hard look. "Exactly what do you think I'm thinking about?"

"Comfort."

He didn't laugh. She wouldn't understand why he was amused* and God help him* he'd probably tell her.

"You still haven't explained what you want from me."

"When you were younger* didn't your mother…"

"She's dead."

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Because she died. What about your father? Didn't he ever comfort you."

"No."

"Why not?"

"He's dead. That's why not."

"Connor* wasn't there anyone you could turn to when you were a little boy?"

He shrugged. "My brother* Alec."

"Did he ever comfort you?"

"Hell* no." He was disgusted by the very idea.

"Wasn't there anyone who cared about you?"

He shrugged. "My stepmother* Euphemia* but she was in no condition to ever comfort me* or her own son* Raen* for that matter. My father's sudden death destroyed her* and she's been in mourning ever since. She cannot even bear to come back to my land. Her pain is still terrible."

"She must have loved your father a great deal."

"Of course she did*" he answered impatiently. "Does comforting take long?"

How in heaven's name was she supposed to know the answer to that question?

"I don't think so*" she decided. "Some husbands simply pat their wives on their shoulders as they walk past them to let them know they care about their feelings. My father did that very thing all the time* but now that I think about it* I must admit I'm not certain if he was offering my mother comfort or showing her affection."

She lifted her shoulders in a dainty shrug. Trying to make him understand was turning out to be more complicated than she'd expected. She tried to think of another example to give him. "Perhaps other husbands put their arms around their wives and…"

"Which do you prefer?"

"I beg your pardon?"

He repeated his question in a brisk* will-you-hurry-up tone of voice. "Do you want me to pat you or put my arms around you?" He was hopeless. Comfort needed to come from the heart* and Connor needed to feel it before he showed it. She guessed it was also an acquired art* learned after years of being loved and cared for by family members. And if she weren't so rattled about what was going to happen to her tonight* she probably would be able to explain it all quite nicely.

She couldn't even remember her new name now. "This isn't a lesson in sword fighting. You have to be sincere* spontaneous… and…"

She didn't continue because she couldn't think of anything else to say.

"You really don't have any idea what you're talking about* do you?"

She let out a long sigh. "No* not really."

He wasn't amused. "Then why in God's name have we been standing here?"

"I didn't realize how impatient you were* and I… Now what are you doing?"

"Lifting your hair up from under the plaid."

"Why?"

"I want to."

"Do you always do what you want to do? You do* don't you?"

"You'd be flat on your back now if I always did what I wanted to do."

She quit trying to push his hands away. There really didn't seem to be any reason for her to continue to argue with him anyway. Admittedly* she couldn't stop him from touching her—he was at least twice her size and strength* after all—but she protected the fragments of her pride by pretending she was in control of what was happening to her.

He made quick work of his task* and his hands were surprisingly gentle when he touched the sides of her neck. A shiver of pleasure raced down her back* and though it was a nice sensation* what was even more pleasing and surprising to her was that he corrected what bothered him instead of criticizing her. She had grown up constantly being told what was wrong with her—God only knew* something always did seem to be amiss—then being ordered to correct the flaw. She knew Connor wouldn't be any different. It was only a matter of time before he got the hang of it and fell into the same routine as her parents and brothers and sisters.

Connor wasn't going to wait any longer. He took hold of Brenna's hand and started walking toward the bed he'd prepared. He was a little surprised she didn't fight him now.

"I might as well warn you now that I'm rarely put together*" she suddenly blurted out.

"Your appearance doesn't matter to me."

"It doesn't?"

"Of course not."

She thought about that for a moment or two before realizing they were walking back toward camp.

"Where are we going?"

He heard the panic in her voice. God* he hated being patient. Were all virgins this impossible?

"What can I do to end this ridiculous fear of yours?"

"You could start by not snapping at me. It isn't ridiculous."

"Answer me."

"You could say something I might find… pleasant and hopeful about…"

"Mating?"

He thought of a thousand answers to give her* but all of them focused on how he would feel.

"Your hesitation worries me*" she whispered.

"It won't kill you."

"It won't kill me? That's it?"

He smiled over the outrage in her voice. "You'll like it. Eventually."

She gave him a look that told him she didn't believe him. She kept walking though* and that was all he cared about at the moment.

"It's messy* isn't it?"

"No* it isn't."

"I doubt I'll like it*" she whispered* for they were getting close to where his soldiers had bedded down for the night* and she didn't wish to be overheard. "I do want children* though."

"Exactly how did you plan to get them?"

She ignored the sarcasm in his voice. "Do you want children?"

"Of course. Why do you think I married you?"

"I don't know why. You promised to explain it all after we were wed."

"Later*" he promised.

"Any woman could give you children. Why did you choose me?"

They stopped talking and now faced each other in the center of the clearing. She looked around* saw the other soldiers feigning sleep on their blankets* and in the center of the circle of men was an empty bed* fashioned together with yet another plaid.

She was horrified. Did he really expect her to sleep there* in the middle of the others? Yes* of course he did* she realized. Honest to God* he really didn't have any idea about the needs of women* did he?

She couldn't make a scene. His men would hear her if she started ranting at their laird* and that would only embarrass her and make him angry.

What was she going to do? She wasn't about to let him touch her with his men pretending to sleep not five feet away. Yet how could she stop him? Connor didn't look as though he would be reasonable much longer. His stance was rigid* his frown intense* and now that she thought about it* hadn't he already given her enough time to calm her worries? He had wanted to comfort her* or at least had tried to give her what she wanted* and she couldn't even imagine any other man going to such lengths to accommodate her.

The truth made her smile. Good lord* he really had comforted her* and she hadn't even realized it. She sighed. Her husband wasn't such a bad sort* after all.

It wouldn't be right for her to argue with him now. No* she would be diplomatic instead. If she was clever enough* he might not even realize she was getting her way. She reached for his hand just as he was about to take off his boots* and bent down* picked up the blanket from the ground* and then whispered* "Please come with me."

"Now what's wrong?" he demanded in a near bellow.

"Brides always prepare the wedding bed. It's a tradition in England."

She could tell he didn't believe her lie. She walked away before he could stop her* paused once at the edge of the clearing to give him what she hoped was a come-hither smile* and continued on.

Connor didn't move. He stood there with his legs braced apart and his hands on his hips* staring after her* his attention on the gentle sway of her hips as she moved. Then he started counting to ten. When he was finished* he was either going to let the impossible woman leave or go after her and make hard* passionate love to her.

"I've never heard of this tradition."

Quinlan drawled out the remark. The soldier was sitting on the ground with his back against a tree trunk and his arms folded across his chest.

Connor turned his frustration on him. "If you say another word* I swear I'll kill you."

Quinlan ignored the warning. "Don't you think you should go to bed before it's time to get up?"

Connor took a threatening step toward his friend. Quinlan immediately straightened up. "She's only wanting privacy* Connor. That's why she's moving your blankets."

"I realize that*" he said. He hadn't realized it* of course* but he wasn't about to admit it to his friend.

He walked away without saying another word and caught up with Brenna near the lake. He wasn't at all amused that they'd come full circle and were now close to where they started.

"Were you planning to prepare our bed in England?"

[Dalyia]

Chapter 5

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"This will do*" she answered.

The isolated spot she'd chosen was a flat piece of nothing squeezed in between the pines. There was barely enough room for him to roll over. She seemed to like it* though* and for what he vowed was going to be the very last time* he let her have her way. He stood behind her as he removed his boots* all the while trying to control his temper.

She spread the blanket out on the ground* and though he was sure she would try to make an hour-long project out of the simple task* she surprised him by being quick about it.

When she was finished* she removed her slippers and then stood up* facing him. She moved closer* until her toes were touching his* and stared into his eyes* holding her breath while she waited for him to touch her.

He didn't move. Tension filled the air between them* her anxiety building as she stared into those dark* inscrutable eyes of his* looking for the first sign of displeasure. Lord* she couldn't stand the silence long.

"I had thought to keep my clothes on."

He slowly shook his head. "But then I thought to take them off*" she whispered.

And still he waited. She told herself she had made the decision and now it was up to her to keep her word. Her hands shook as she untied the belt at her waist* and the woolen material he'd draped around her fell in a swoosh to the ground.

She thought about moving to the side before she took her gown off* because the moonlight was blocked by the tree branches there and shadows would hide her nudity from him* but then she decided to stop being such a coward.

Should she tell him she wasn't wearing anything underneath her nightgown? No* she decided* he would find out soon enough. Her heart was pounding frantically* but her anxiety had faded a little—because he wasn't attacking her* she supposed—and somewhere in the back of her muddled thoughts was the realization that Connor wouldn't deliberately hurt her. She couldn't understand why she felt that way* but she did* and oddly* her hands weren't shaking nearly as much.

She felt she was in charge of what was happening to her* and that made all the difference.

She regarded him gravely while she gathered her courage and then slowly removed her nightgown. She kept her gaze on Connor all the while* searching for a hint of displeasure or disgust because her body was so terribly imperfect. She was fully aware of her flaws. Her breasts were too large* her hips too narrow* and her legs were too long for the rest of her body. He was bound to notice* she knew* and if he so much as frowned with displeasure* she thought she would close her eyes and die of shame.

He took his time looking at her. His gaze lingered on her parted lips* her full breasts* her narrow waist* the blond curls shielding her virginity* her long legs* all the while trying to remember how to draw a breath. Dear God* he hadn't expected such beauty. He was overwhelmed by her* for he had never imagined such a woman could exist* and if he weren't a practical man* he would have thought she wasn't English at all but a goddess sent down from heaven to reward him for the vengeance he had sought in his sainted father's name.

He was fast becoming desperate to take her into his arms and plant himself firmly inside her. He didn't give in to his body's demands yet* but stood where he was and let her take the lead once again. For some reason he didn't understand* she had gotten it into her head that she should be the one making the decisions tonight. He had come to this startling conclusion when he had hesitated instead of ordering her to remove her clothes and be damned quick about it. He had shaken his head at her to let her know he didn't care for her decision to keep her clothes on* but before he could explain exactly what he wanted her to do* she changed her mind.

And he got exactly what he wanted.

The blush covering her face reflected her embarrassment. She was trying to look defiant and not afraid* but she was worried. He could see it in her eyes* in the way she stood as straight and rigid as a spear* and in her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. Oh* yes* she really was perfect.

She must have believed he would become the aggressor now* and when he didn't reach for her* she slowly began to relax.

Why didn't he take off his clothes? She worried about that for a full minute before deciding to offer her assistance.

"I had thought you would remove your own clothes* but then I considered you might want me to assist you. Sometimes wives in England help their husbands disrobe."

She was obviously making it all up as she went along. If it helped relieve her fear* he didn't mind.

"Do you want me to undress you* Connor?"

He considered answering her* then decided what had worked before would work again* and so he simply nodded agreement.

She took another shaky breath* no doubt bracing herself for what she thought she would find* before she finally gathered enough gumption to reach for his belt. Her toes* as weightless as a butterfly's wings* brushed over his* and the second the knot was undone and his plaid began to drop to the ground* she took a quick step back.

He wasn't wearing any underclothes. She noticed that right away* God help her for being foolish enough to look* and she deliberately turned her attention to his chin until her heart calmed down. She'd only taken a glimpse below his waist before she forced herself to look away. It was still more than enough to make her want to run all the way back to England.

"Connor* are you certain this will work?"

The bewilderment in her voice amused him. God* she was innocent. And young.

He gently pulled her into his arms and held her tight against him. His head dropped down to the top of her head. "Yes*" he promised.

He was a little surprised he could speak at all. The feel of her soft breasts pressed against his chest demanded his full attention* and honest to God* he was beginning to believe the unbearable wait had been worth the trouble.

He couldn't wait any longer though. Neither his body nor his mind would allow another minute to pass without fulfilling all of his urges.

Connor had fully expected to be surprised again* and that he was* because once he'd convinced her to quit hiding in the crook of his neck and tilt her head up toward him* she let him kiss her. She didn't know what she was doing* of course. Her lips were closed tight against his* but with his gentle coaxing* she began to relax. Then he told her what he wanted her to do. She didn't fight him* just gave him a look that suggested she thought he was out of his mind to want her to do such a thing* and after he'd repeated his demand* she finally conceded to him and opened her mouth.

And then he kissed her the way he'd imagined he would from the moment he'd first seen her today. His tongue quickly moved inside her sweet warmth to stroke and explore. It was much* much better than what he'd imagined it would be. God* how he liked kissing her this way.

She liked it too. She wound her arms around his neck and began to stroke him* timidly at first* then far more boldly* until she seemed as eager as he was to experience more of the erotic pleasure.

Finally* she began to whimper low in her throat and move restlessly against him.

The temptation proved to be his undoing. He wanted to take her that very moment* and it took all he had to control his own response. He'd scare the hell out of her if he thrust inside her now* hurt her far more than was necessary too* because she still wasn't ready for him. She would be* he promised himself* even if the agony of slowing down killed him.

He was being very deliberate now. He kept up his tender assault on her senses* determined to make it impossible for her to think about what was going to come. Only when she conceded to the demands building inside her would she be able to welcome his invasion without too much discomfort. He tried to overwhelm her* to flood her senses with his touch* his taste* his scent. His mouth assaulted hers again and again* until his own desperation to be inside her overrode all other considerations. His control slipped further away with each kiss they shared* each little moan she gave.

He was aroused to a fevered pitch. He didn't give her time to protest* but kept her fully occupied with his kisses while he lifted her into his arms and moved to their bed. He tried to be gentle with her* at least he thought he tried* even remembered to brace his weight with his arms so he wouldn't crush her as he came down on top of her. His body covered every inch of hers* and God* she smelled so damned good and felt so incredibly right in his arms. He buried his face in the crook of her neck* inhaled her wonderful scent* and let out a loud groan of sheer ecstasy.

She was overwhelmed by what was happening to her. She had expected it would all be over and done with by now and she would be in terrible pain. She hadn't expected to like it or crave all the glorious sensations coursing through her body. Yet she yearned for even more from him* and how was that possible? She didn't know if she was pleasing him—she hoped she was—and she wanted to ask him to tell her what he wanted her to do* so he would also be shaking from her caresses the way she shook from his.

Once his hard body came down on top of hers* thinking became too complicated. He was whispering hot* sensual words close to her ear* which only made the yearning deep inside her more demanding.

His hands were everywhere. She shouldn't let him touch her breasts* meant to tell him to stop* even as she arched up against him in silent demand for more and more and more.

She tried to stop him when his hand moved between her thighs. He wouldn't be stopped though. It was much too late for that. He needed to know if she was ready for him* God help him if she wasn't* and as soon as he felt the wet opening he most wanted to invade* the demands of his body took over.

He tried to make his invasion swift. He moved between her thighs and thrust deep with one powerful surge. She cried out in agony* and the sound echoed through the pines. Only when he was completely surrounded by her tightness did he force himself to stop and allow her time to get past the pain. He couldn't suppress his groan of male satisfaction* or was it a shout? He was too shaken by her to know exactly what he was doing now. He could only feel* and dear God* this had to be heaven* so perfect was each sensation. And new. For the first time since he'd begun to take women to his bed* he found he was consumed by passion.

She was consumed by pain. She struggled against him and demanded that he stop at once* crying all the while* but then he let out a shout and went completely still* and she wasn't certain if he was angry or as disappointed as she was.

Connor finally realized she was crying. He immediately stopped and tried to calm her. "It's going to be all right. The pain will leave."

"How do you know it will leave?"

"I know."

He sounded terribly certain. She decided to believe him* admitting that even now the throbbing wasn't quite as intense. She still didn't like it much* though* and hoped it would all be over and done with soon. She was about to ask him to please hurry up* but then he kissed her again and she was suddenly more interested in kissing him back than talking.

He continued to stroke her and kiss her until he felt her relax her grip on him.

Then he was moving* though slowly at first* vowing he would end it if she asked him to* even if it killed him. Yet instead of fighting him or making impossible demands* she put her arms around his neck once again.

He wanted more than her acceptance* however* because he'd felt her passion before he'd hurt her* and he craved to feel it again. In between hot kisses* he whispered sensual promises and praise* most of which didn't make any sense at all* but she didn't seem to notice or mind. His patience was blessedly rewarded when she began to move against him.

Connor braced his weight with his arms and lifted up to look into her eyes. There were tears there* yet there was passion as well* wasn't there? God* he hoped so. He didn't want to keep on hurting her* vowed once again to end it quickly with one hard push to give her his seed if her pain persisted* even as he wondered how he would ever find enough discipline to leave her now.

"Should I stop?" His voice was rough with emotion.

He sounded angry. She looked at his face and saw that his jaw was clenched tight* and there were beads of perspiration on his forehead. Had she done something wrong? She could barely think about it* the throbbing inside was insistent now* yet surprisingly pleasant. She shifted beneath him* drew her knees up just a little to bring him deeper inside her* and felt a burst that was far better than simply pleasant. She couldn't stop herself from moving once again.

He let out a low groan. "Have I made you angry?" she whispered.

He shook his head before repeating his question. "Do you want me to end it?"

"No*" she said.

He slowly withdrew* smiling because she instinctively tightened her legs around him* trying to keep him inside* and then he pushed forward again* all the while watching her expression for the first sign of discomfort.

She squeezed her eyes shut* let out a sweet moan* and ordered him to do just that once again.

It was all the encouragement he needed. He moved again and again* more forcefully with each thrust* and oh* how he loved the way she clung to him and made those erotic sounds in the back of her throat.

He still believed he was the one in control. He knew exactly what would happen to her; she would concede everything to him soon* her body* her mind* and her heart. Her orgasm would consume her* and as she was in the midst of her climax* he would give her his seed.

He would be well served* of course. And satisfied. Just as he had always been.

He continued his pace until she was writhing in his arms. Her hips were forcefully arching up to quicken his pace* and then he became even more demanding.

She let him know how much she liked what he was doing by scoring his back with her nails and crying out with pleasure. "Oh* God."

"Nay* lass. Connor."

She didn't understand what he was saying to her because the hot sensations overwhelming her senses were so excruciatingly wonderful; she wanted to tell him so* but her voice got lost in her cries for more.

Her need fed his own. She suddenly became the aggressor* not he* stroking and caressing* touching him in ways he'd never been touched before.

She drew him down for a long* wet* open-mouth kiss* wild now* uncontrolled with her demand* forcing him with her uninhibited response to give her everything* and he was powerless to stop what was happening to him. Her passion ignited his own* and even that part of his mind he had always held back* he willingly gave to her.

His world came apart. He thrust deep* hard* over and over again* his movements uncontrolled now* for he was overwhelmed by her* and with one last surge forward* he poured his seed into her* shouting her name* over and over again* in acceptance and surrender. In that instant when their hearts seemed to beat as one* and their souls felt as though they were entwined* she found her own fulfillment.

She clung to her husband as though her life depended upon it* terrified by what was happening to her* and then she heard him call her name* felt him tighten* and she suddenly stopped fighting her own surrender. Tremor after tremor of ecstasy poured over her* yet all the while Connor was there with her* holding her tight* telling her it was all right by simply chanting her name.

[Dalyia]

Her climax seemed to last forever* yet it was over all too soon. Weeping softly against his shoulder because it had been so incredibly beautiful* she felt exhausted* replete* and very proud of herself.

It took her several minutes to stop shaking and draw a proper breath. Connor* she noticed* was still taking deep* shuddering breaths. The entire experience had been far more demanding for him than for her* she thought* before realizing she was still taking gasping breaths too.

He continued to hold her until she began to relax in his arms and her legs dropped down to his sides; then he tried to leave her by rolling over on his side. She wouldn't let go of him. He thought about moving her arms away so he could get up* because he knew he needed time alone to figure out what had just happened to him* but then he felt her tears on his skin and decided to wait another minute or two.

He'd hurt her* yes* of course he had. She'd been a virgin* and it was inevitable that she would have difficulty accepting him* but once she had adjusted* had he continued to hurt her? Hell* he'd been rough with her all right; he should have been able to control himself* and if she hadn't been so hot and tight* he probably would have. What had she expected? She'd given herself wholeheartedly to him.

She'd been perfect. Connor suddenly realized what he was doing and had to shake his head over his own thoughts. What was wrong with him? Now he was trying to blame her for taking away his discipline and trying to claim his heart* God help him* when he had willingly given both to her.

He really needed time to recover. She wasn't going to let go of him* though* and so he decided he would have to wait until tomorrow to figure it all out. Perhaps by then he would have reclaimed some of his control. He'd given her that too. No wonder he felt so vulnerable now* and if that wasn't disgusting* he didn't know what was. His strength was gone* and he was suddenly too exhausted to think about anything important. He inhaled her wonderful feminine scent* found it mingled with his own* and if he didn't force himself to go to sleep soon* he knew he was going to get hard again and hurt her all over.

She didn't want to sleep just yet. She wanted a tender word from him so she would know he'd been pleased with her. She needed his assurance now* and only when his breathing became deep and even did she realize she wasn't going to get it.

She moved away from him* sat up* and nudged him. He didn't even open his eyes.

She didn't want to give up. The pride she'd felt just minutes ago was quickly fading* and damn it all* she wanted to keep on feeling wonderful about what had happened* not sorry. Didn't he understand she needed praise and comfort to give her the reassurance she ached for?

No* of course he didn't know. The insensitive bear didn't even know what comfort was.

She decided to give him one last chance to redeem himself and poked him hard in his shoulder. She'd already made up her mind that as soon as he opened his eyes* she would bluntly ask him if he had been as pleased with her as she'd been with him. He'd tell her yes* of course* and she'd finally be content.

Connor still didn't open his eyes* but he did move. He rolled over* away from her.

She saw the damage she'd done to him and thought her heart might stop beating then and there. Bright red marks streaked his broad shoulders and back. She hadn't drawn blood with her nails* but the marks were vivid enough to make her think it would take a long while for them to fade away.

How could she have done such a thing? She'd acted like a wild animal* and not at all like the well-bred lady she'd been raised to be. No wonder Connor was ignoring her. He had to be disappointed in her. In truth* she couldn't blame him.

She didn't know how she was ever going to face him again. She was going to have to* of course* unless she died of embarrassment before morning.

First things first* she told herself. She would go back to the water* wash his scent away* and get dressed.

She felt better because she had something to do. She tried not to make any noise* though she was pretty certain she could step all over him and he would continue to sleep. The second she moved* she grimaced in pain. She paused to glare at Connor* because he was responsible for her discomfort* then reached for the plaid he'd given her. She saw the spots of blood on the wool right away. She didn't panic* and in fact wasn't even surprised* because her mother had told her there would be blood* and pain* but the dear woman had exaggerated about it all being over and done with as quick as a blink. Brenna had to admit that some of her discomfort was her own fault. Her mother had also instructed her to stay perfectly still throughout the ordeal* promising that if she did* it wouldn't be so terrible after all* and Brenna hadn't stayed still* now had she? When would she start listening to her elders?

Still* it hadn't been that horrible. She admitted the truth on her way back to the water. She continued to fret while she washed every spot of skin he'd touched* which meant taking another full bath* because he'd touched her everywhere* and then she got dressed. She was thankful she'd left her clothes on the bank* especially her undergarments. Yawning now from sheer fatigue* she folded his plaid into a square with the intention of giving it back to him in the morning* then put on a clean* ivory* ankle-length chainse and covered it up with her dark* midnight blue bliaut.

"I'm pathetic*" she muttered in disgust.

She removed a wooden necklace from inside her right shoe* where she'd carefully hidden it* and held it gently in her hand* treating it with as much care as she would a king's crown of jewels. The round wooden medallion was a gift from her father* and though it wasn't valuable by a thief's measure* which was exactly why her father had had it made out of wood* it was more precious and valuable to her than anything else she owned because of what the disk represented. Her father had had the wooden medallions made for all of his children* even his sons* and each one of the disks had a different design etched into the wood. Brenna's was the outline of the sun. All of her sisters and brothers recognized each other's designs* her father had insisted they memorize them* and when he had given Brenna her medallion* he gave her the same instructions he'd given the others. If she was ever in trouble* she need only send the medallion to one of her brothers or sisters and he or she would immediately come to her assistance. Their loyalty was to one another* he'd explained* first and always* and her father wanted to make certain that after he and her mother had passed on* their children would look out for one another.

Brenna admitted* though only to herself* that she had a tendency to become preoccupied and misplace her possessions* and for that reason she always put the medallion in her shoe at night. She wouldn't dare be careless with her father's dear gift.

Holding the link to her family made her ache to be with them again. Suddenly it all became too much to bear* and she began to sob with heartache and loneliness. Although she tried* she couldn't make herself stop. She sat down on the slope* giving in to what she considered the inevitable after the hellish day she'd had* and stared at her treasure until her tears were spent. The precious lifeline to her family was secured by a leather necklace. She made certain it was knotted securely before slipping it around her neck and tucking it under her clothing. It rested between her breasts* directly over her heart* exactly where it belonged.

Much to her surprise* weeping had proved to be a healing balm* and though she found it quite peculiar* she actually felt better by the time she was finished. She was also able to look at her situation with more practicality and less emotion. The wooden disk represented her past* but Connor was part of her future now* wasn't he?

She should probably learn to be loyal to him* shouldn't she? Love wasn't all that important* was it? Her mother certainly hadn't thought so. Why* she hadn't truly loved their father for years and years. Eventually* her heart did soften to his hard ways* and the two of them certainly got along well enough.

Connor had already proven he would treat her kindly. The way he'd touched her* with such care and tenderness* was evidence enough. His hands fit the rest of him* she thought. They were big* callused* hard* strong* yet he'd been so very gentle when he'd caressed her.

The memory made her sigh. It was promptly followed by a loud yawn. She didn't want to avoid Connor any longer. She needed sleep and his warmth now. The tender words of assurance would have to wait until the obtuse man finally realized what a valuable asset she was. She was going to have to prove herself to him* of course* but she was up to the challenge* and God willing* she would be a good wife and mother.

She stood up when she heard Connor. He barely made any noise at all* but it was still quite enough for her to recognize where the sound was coming from. She hurriedly wiped her face dry of any remaining tears* straightened her appearance as best she could without her brush and mirror* and then started toward him.

He stopped when he reached the break in the trees. He didn't dare get any closer to her just yet* because the urge to take her into his arms and make love to her again needed to be controlled first* then discarded* before he took another step. He couldn't force himself to stop thinking about it* though. He'd tell her it had been damned inconsiderate of her to stay away from his bed for such a long while* of course* probably just a scant second before his mouth devoured hers so she couldn't start arguing with him again. He loved the way she'd tasted* the way she'd felt.

God* but she was pretty. He couldn't seem to get past the revelation. It wasn't simply her appearance he found himself drawn to like a besotted boy. No* it was far more than that. She was such a sensual woman. The graceful way she moved* the warmth in her welcoming smile* the delicate look of her* all appealed to him* but what captivated him most was the air of dignity and strength in her bearing. She made him believe she fully understood the power she would wield as his wife.

And if he ever weakened* would she wield that power over him? The thought made him frown.

The longer she stared at him* the faster her heart beat* so overwhelmed was she by the sheer beauty before her. Connor was almost completely shrouded in the thick mist gathered in the trees. She was suddenly reminded of the giants of ancient times her father had told her bedtime stories about* and surely Connor was every bit as magnificent as his ancestors were* perhaps even more so. There wasn't a fold of fat anywhere. She understood why he radiated such strength and power now. The splay of muscles in his upper arms and thighs was evidence enough. Muscles rolled under skin that glistened when he put his hand out to her.

She immediately walked forward and placed her hand in his. "I thought you were sleeping*" she whispered.

"I cannot rest until you do."

"Why is that* Connor?"

He liked the way she said his name in such a familiar* intimate way. God* he was weary tonight. He had to be exhausted to be thinking about such foolishness now.

"I'm responsible for you* that's why. What were you doing? You were gone a long time."

He knew exactly what she'd been doing* of course* the proof of her weeping still lingered in her eyes* and the only reason he'd asked the question was to see if she would admit her weakness to him.

"I was crying like a baby. Why does that amuse you?"

"I smiled because you told me the truth."

"I always try to tell the truth. Lies become too complicated. Do you always walk around without any clothes on?"

She sounded worried about the possibility. "Only when I'm chasing after inconsiderate wives*" he answered.

He didn't mean to sound surly. She didn't seem to notice* however. Her mind was somewhere else. He wasn't left guessing what she was thinking about.

"Why did you marry me?"

"I'll explain tomorrow."

He started to turn* intending to drag her back to the bed* but she stopped him by tugging on his hand.

"You promised me you would explain directly after our marriage was blessed. You don't believe I'll like hearing the truth* do you? Could that be the reason you're putting it off?"

"Come back to bed. Then I'll explain."

"You'll only fall asleep before…" She stopped trying to explain when he lifted her up into his arms. His skin was so wonderfully warm* she wanted to press herself against him. She didn't give in to the temptation though* but put her arms around his neck and stared directly into his eyes.

"Why were you weeping?"

"I was thinking about my family."

"I'm your family now."

The gruffness in his voice actually comforted her* and she knew she had to be exhausted to have such a strange reaction. She hadn't wanted to tell him her worry* but heaven help her* the way he stared at her made her want to blurt out every little concern she had.

"I disappointed you*" she whispered.

"No."

"No?"

"You didn't disappoint me."

She waited for him to explain. He didn't say another word* which really shouldn't have surprised her* as she already had noticed he wasn't one to embellish any of his remarks. The flaw obviously extended to compliments as well. She was feeling inordinately pleased with herself now* and all because she hadn't disappointed him.

Oh* yes* she was weary tonight. It had been a long* difficult day* after all* and that was why she was being so emotional.

He carried her back to his blankets and set her on her feet again. When she tried to turn away from him* he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her long and hard.

Her knees went weak* and when he let go of her she gracefully collapsed to the bed.

She regained her strength a minute later. After he'd stretched out on the blankets* she tried to kneel over him. He was having none of that. He pulled her down beside him* forced her back up against his chest* and wrapped his arms around her.

He wasn't about to let go of her. He knew she hadn't forgotten his promise to tell her exactly why he'd married her* and he wasn't at all certain how she would react to hearing a few of his reasons. He didn't want to have to get up and chase after her again. Women* he had learned* could be peculiar about matters that really shouldn't concern them. They tended to get their feelings injured quite easily; at least Alex's wife* Jamie* did. Brenna seemed to be even more emotional. Not only did she appear to get her feelings injured* she also insisted on telling Connor about it. The fact that she'd told him she believed she'd disappointed him was proof enough.

He was astounded she'd needed his reassurance. She hadn't tried to hide her vulnerability at all.

Yes* she astounded him all right* and pleased him more than he could ever have thought possible.

"Connor* you were going to tell me…"

"I wanted sons."

"And daughters*" she reminded him.

"And daughters*" he agreed. "I told you my reason earlier."

She tried to turn so she could look at him* but he tightened his hold on her* making movement impossible.

She gave up trying. She rested the side of her face on his upper arm* smiling because it felt so hard and warm against her cheek* then yawned loudly.

"But why did you marry me? You could have married any woman from the Highlands."

"You asked me."

"Please don't use that excuse. We both know you would never have held a child to her word."

"No* I wouldn't."

"Do you remember any of it? Surely you…"

He remembered every detail of the meeting with her father* of course. "Are you going to keep me awake all night?" he asked* irritably.

"No* of course not. I didn't mean to stray from the topic. I'm concerned your reason for marrying me has something to do with my father. Is that true?"

"No*" he answered. "My feud is with MacNare. He went after Quinlan's family. He burned their home* destroyed their crops* and killed their stock. He wanted their land to add to his own. I had only just heard about this atrocity when another one of my followers came to me with a similar outrage to report."

"And because your men are loyal to you* you went to war on their behalf."

"Yes."

"There had to be another reason as well* for surely others have come to you in the past with stories of mistreatment* If you married each time* you'd have ten wives by now."

"I have another reason* but I don't wish to discuss it now."

"Someday will you explain?"

"Yes."

"All right then. Will you explain what our marriage has to do with your war?"

"It's simple* Brenna. MacNare wanted you."

"And so you took me away from him. Why didn't you just kill me?"

"I don't kill women."

"I didn't mean to insult you. You tell me you don't kill women* but you have no concerns about using them* do you?"

"When it's necessary."

"Why didn't you simply continue to war against him? Were your losses too substantial?"

"If a Highlander has vengeance in his heart* no loss is substantial. I was fortunate though. There were injuries* but none of my own died. My brother ordered me to end the feud. Alec has become what some would call a mediator in our land* and he has the power behind him to force others to do what he considers just. Marrying you was my last…"

"Insult?"

"It is* only if you choose to think it is."

"What would you consider an insult then?"

"Destroying a man's crops* killing good horses. Those are insults. Killing a soldier is a much more grievous matter. I think perhaps you place too much value on marriage. You think like a woman."

"I would never have gone to such lengths."

"I'm my father's son. I am also a practical man."

He had told her the truth* God help her for asking him to* and she suddenly felt like weeping again.

She tried to be practical about it all and told herself it could have been worse. She couldn't imagine how* of course. She didn't like being used. No woman did. She didn't think he would understand how she felt* though.

"In future* I win learn now to become practical*" she whispered. Her voice shook* and she didn't say another word for a long while because she knew she would start crying. She thought she'd rather die than let him know the damage he'd done to her hopes and dreams. She wasn't going to let him hurt her again* and if being practical meant she must give up her feelings and her heart* then she would be more practical than he was.

It didn't take her long to realize how foolish she was being. She didn't want to live without love* and that meant she was going to have to make Connor change his attitude* and how would she ever be able to do that?

The task was disheartening and seemed to be as impossible as making it rain on a sunny day. She squeezed her eyes shut as soon as she realized how teary she was becoming and tried to concentrate on her night prayers in hopes the ritual would occupy her thoughts.

Connor sought to close his mind against the hurt he'd just caused her so that ridiculous thoughts of guilt wouldn't bother him. It wasn't until he'd told her a fragment of the full truth that he realized how cold it made him sound to a woman as emotional as Brenna. She couldn't possibly understand* and he wasn't about to explain further.

His hatred for MacNare was burning him hollow inside* and though he still hadn't found any evidence to make him culpable in Donald MacAlister's death* Connor still wanted to believe what his father had suspected* that MacNare and MacNare's father* along with their relatives* had been involved in the planning of the attack on his home. He was determined to find the proof before he killed all those he suspected of participating in the slaughter* even if it took him long years to find the truth. Until then* he would have to be content with insignificant attacks meant solely to keep them enraged.

[Dalyia]

Alec was making his duty more difficult* of course. His brother knew what Donald MacAlister had said before he died* and Alec had also tried to find proof of MacNare's treachery. When he could find nothing* he decided that the suspicion was groundless. Now he wanted the strikes against the MacNare clan to stop. Connor knew he would have to accommodate his brother* but only for a while* until Alec became reasonable again. Gaining revenge wouldn't be forgotten* and Connor's hatred wouldn't lessen* but intensify. He was* after all* his father's son.

"When did you make your decision to marry me?"

Her question jarred him back to the present. "As soon as I heard MacNare was marrying one of Haynesworth's daughters."

Would the insults never stop? "Then you didn't even know that I was the one sent to MacNare? Dear God* you didn't know* did you? The proposals had nothing to do with your decision. The jest's on you* Connor. I wasn't supposed to marry MacNare* Rachel was. She's the pretty one*" she instinctively added.

"Why didn't she come?"

"The king found out and put a stop to it. He wanted Rachel to marry a baron he favored."

"And so your father substituted you."

"Yes."

He was astonished by the way things were done in England and appalled that a father could treat his daughters with such casual disregard.

"When did you find out you were going to marry him* Brenna?"

"That isn't important."

"Answer me."

"The day I left. Father told me what I was expected to do* and I took my leave a few hours later. It was wrong for you to make me think my proposals were why you came for me."

"It wasn't wrong. It will prove convenient though."

"How?"

"My brother*" he answered. "He will wish to hear my reasons for marrying you."

"And you plan only to tell him I proposed? But…"

He interrupted her. "My brother will ask you if you did propose."

"And if I refuse to answer?"

The thought was laughable. No man* let alone a woman* had ever refused Kincaid and lived long enough to tell of it. "You won't*" he assured her.

"You show me little compassion* Connor."

"Did your father show compassion when he substituted one daughter for another? Admit it* Brenna. His behavior was sinful* not mine. We don't treat our daughters with such disrespect."

"Father had his reasons. I'm certain they were very important."

"Did your king grant his permission?"

"There wasn't time enough to gain his permission. I'm certain he will be pleased."

"I'm just as certain he won't be pleased at all. Don't rail against me or plague me with more questions* wife. I am your husband and your laird now* and you would do well to remember that. I saved you from a bleak future with a demon."

She was suddenly too furious with him to guard her words. "You have succeeded with your plan. No one will want me now. The very least you can do is let me go back home."

"Give me a son. Then you can go."

He regretted his cruelty as soon as the words were out of his mouth* but he wouldn't take them back.
And he would never let her go.

[Dalyia]

Chapter 6

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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.

[Dalyia]

"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.

[Dalyia]

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.

[Dalyia]

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.

[Dalyia]

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."

[Dalyia]

Chapter 7

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Brenna was in a fit mood the following morning. The rain had ended* the sun was bright* and no one* not even Connor* could put a wrinkle in her happiness.

It kept getting better too. Although the men smiled while they watched her eat her morning meal* they didn't comment on her appetite* and after she returned from the creek dressed in the MacAlister plaid* Quinlan complimented her on the perfect pleats she'd made in the woolen material. He seemed to think she'd only just acquired the art.

She felt it was her duty to correct him. "My father made Rachel learn how to fashion a plaid because she was supposed to marry Laird MacNare* but Mother thought it would be a good idea for all of her daughters to master the technique. My parents did like to get as much as they could for their coins."

"Your sister was promised to MacNare?"

She nodded. "She was indeed. Connor might have ended up married to Rachel. She's the pretty one in our family*" she thought to add.

Quinlan couldn't imagine there was any other woman more pleasing to the eye than his mistress. He had already noticed she wasn't vain* and her comment only confirmed his belief.

"Will it be another long day's ride?"

"No* mi'lady. We're very close to home now."

The news thrilled her. Her smile proved to be contagious* for when Quinlan glanced at the others* they were all smiling too.

She excused herself from his company as soon as she spotted Connor leading his horse across the clearing. She ran to her husband* put her arms around his neck* gave him an enthusiastic good morning kiss* and then remembered she shouldn't show him any affection in front of others. Surprisingly* he neither snapped nor growled at her. 'Twas a fact he kissed her back.

He did criticize her afterward* of course. It seemed to be a natural inclination of his* she decided and was* therefore* unperturbed.

"You are without discipline." He then lifted her up onto his horse* swung up behind her* and settled her on his thighs. "Aren't you going to argue with me?"

"It's too fine a day to argue. You are wrong* of course. I have as much discipline as you do."

"I haven't seen any yet. Stop twisting about and lean back against me."

"My rope's twisted." After explaining her problem* she pulled the necklace up* straightened the rope* and then let the wooden disk drop back down under her plaid.

"What in God's name is that thing?"

"Have you only just noticed it?"

"No. I've only just decided to ask you about it."

"The necklace is a gift from my father. I have my very own design to prove it belongs to me* and if I'm ever in trouble* I need only send the disk to one of my sisters or brothers for immediate assistance. Father had them made for all of his children."

"Get rid of it."

Her gasp was enough to upset the stallion. He reared his head up and let out a snort of indignation. She reached down and patted him. "I'll do no such thing* Connor. I plan to have one made for you too."

"You will not."

"It's a tradition."

"It's an insult to me* wife."

"We shall discuss this matter when we are home."

"We're through discussing it."

She didn't disagree with him. He was wrong about that too* she thought to herself. The man was going to listen to reason and accept the tradition* even if it took her a good week of nagging. "Why are we waiting?"

He knew she was deliberately changing the topic* but he went along just to get her to stop arguing with him. He wanted her cooperation today. She was about to meet Kincaid* and that would be unsettling for her. His brother did have a way of terrifying everyone he met. It was yet another reason why Connor so admired him.

"Owen went to the creek to collect whatever was left behind."

"That was thoughtful of him*" she replied. "Still* your men shouldn't leave their things about for anyone to take."

He thought she was jesting* and he waited for her to laugh. She didn't* though* and once he realized she was sincere* he didn't explain it to her. A minute later Owen returned with his mistress's belongings. He put them in her satchel* then tied the baggage to Aeden's horse. She never noticed. Connor wasn't at all surprised* of course* for his wife seemed to walk around in a daze most of the time.

His thoughts returned to Alec then. "You will meet my brother today. He won't hurt you."

She thought his remark extremely peculiar. "I would never worry about such a thing."

"You will when you meet him. You'd best find some of this discipline you boast of having* Brenna. Do not disgrace me by crying or fainting."

She rolled her eyes heavenward. "I shall like him because he's your brother* and it's my duty to get along with all of your family. He won't intimidate me."

"Yes* he will. He isn't as pleasant as I am."

She burst into laughter. He gave up trying to caution her then and turned his attention to more important matters* such as learning how to be diplomatic before it was time to explain his actions to the man who ruled the Highlands.

A full hour passed in silence before she spoke again.

"Connor?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever seen me cry or faint?"

"No."

"Then please explain your reason for insulting me? I'm most curious to hear it."

He didn't answer her.

If he wouldn't explain* the least he could do was apologize. She knew she would never get him to* though* because he was too stubborn to ever admit he might have misjudged her.

Proving him wrong would be enough to repair the damage he'd done to her pride. It would be easy to accomplish* for she had been properly trained and fully understood what was expected of her. She would let Connor see how unafraid she was when she greeted his brother. Surely* she would like him. He was part of her family now* after all* and God willing* if she could just remember not to speak until she was spoken to and behave with a little humility* he would like her too.

A few minutes later* the fortress came into view. Her breath caught in the back of her throat at first sight of the magnificent structure. A tall stone wall surrounded the fortress that must have taken half a century to build. Two soldiers* wearing expressions as cold and forbidding as the wall they guarded* watched them cross the drawbridge.

She thought it odd they didn't speak to Connor* then decided they were waiting for him to give them permission.

There were hundreds more of the frightening warriors inside the lower bailey. None of them welcomed Connor either.

"Is one of those men scowling at us your brother* perchance?"

"No."

"Is it always so quiet here?"

"No."

Connor wasn't in the mood to expound. She decided to follow his example and not say another word. She would have held to her decision too if she hadn't been taken by surprise when they reached the upper courtyard and she saw the beautiful flowers bordering the front of the castle.

"It's lovely here*" she whispered. "Who planted the flowers?"

"Jamie."

She vowed to keep quiet. "I hope he was well rewarded for his efforts."

"Not he* she*" Connor corrected. "Don't step on them or you'll never hear the end of it."

"Servants may voice their opinions then?"

"Jamie isn't a servant. She's mistress here."

She would have fallen off the horse if Connor hadn't tightened his hold around her waist. "Mistress?"

"You'll like her."

She didn't even try to pray for patience. "I will not like her. You're going to have to make her leave* Connor. There can only be one mistress in my home."

"Jamie is mistress of Alec's home."

"Then why did she plant flowers for you? It was of course very thoughtful of her* but I cannot help wondering why she went to such trouble."

He finally understood what was at the root of her misconception. "This isn't my land. It's Alec's. How could you think it was?"

She felt like screaming but didn't dare speak above a whisper because of the audience watching them like hawks. "I'll tell you exactly why I thought it was your home. I was told we were going home* that's why* and since no one bothered to inform me you meant to pay a call on your brother* I naturally concluded this belonged to you."

"It doesn't."

"So I now understand*" she agreed. "It would have been thoughtful of you to mention our destination."

Connor didn't respond to her veiled criticism.

The courtyard was quickly filling up with warriors. All of them were dressed in plaids with muted colors so similar to Connor's she knew she was going to get them mixed up and not be able to tell a Kincaid soldier from a MacAlister.

They were all staring at Connor and her. She straightened her spine until it felt as though it was going to snap* stared straight ahead* and tried to look serene. The welcome they were receiving was most discouraging. Was everyone who lived in the Highlands always in such a bad mood? These soldiers surely were. Their attitude was also puzzling. Connor was Alec's brother* for heaven's sake* not his enemy. Didn't the difference matter to these heathens?

Her husband dismounted first before turning to assist her. She stared into his eyes* looking for a sign that everything was going to be all right. He didn't blink or give her any indication at all of what he was thinking. She didn't squeeze herself up against him as she wanted to* but walked behind her husband with her hands down at her sides* her head held high* and her gaze fully directed on the center of his back.

Quinlan and Aeden moved to flank her on either side* while Donald* Owen* and Giric followed behind. When they reached the steps leading up to the entrance* Connor continued on* but Brenna and the others were forced by Kincaid soldiers to stay behind.

His brother obviously wanted to speak to Connor in private before she was introduced to him. She hoped they took a long* long while* as she now dreaded her audience with Alec Kincaid. The possibility that one brother might actually hurt another hadn't entered her mind. Then she heard god-awful shouting coming through the doors and she could think of nothing else.

She assumed Alec started yelling first because she didn't recognize the voice* but Connor quickly joined in* and it was soon impossible for her to understand a word of what the two of them were ranting and raving. She tried to concentrate. If they would slow down their speech or hurl their accusations in softer voices* surely she would be able to translate enough of their garbled Gaelic to understand what Alec was so furious about.

The heated discussion lasted for more than fifteen minutes. The longer Brenna was forced to wait* the more nervous she became. She moved only once in all that while. When the doors had closed behind Connor* Quinlan had deliberately brushed her arm as he turned around to face the crowd. She and Aeden had then turned with him* which she immediately regretted* of course* because she had to suffer the Kincaid soldiers' close scrutiny again.

None of them was glaring at her* though. She tried to take that as a good sign. She was careful to hide her fear from them* guessing that that was what they were all searching for* but the effort was incredibly exhausting.

The wait was finally over. The doors opened* and she was summoned inside. She wanted to shake her head* pick up her skirts* and run as fast as she could in the opposite direction.

She went in instead. She was so rattled* she barely paid attention to her surroundings. The great hall was on her left. She stopped at the stone steps leading down into the huge room and waited to be called forward.

Neither Connor nor his brother had noticed her yet. She looked at her husband first to make certain he was all right. He didn't look any worse for wear* she decided* and he wasn't bleeding anywhere that she could see. He didn't look very happy* of course* but then he rarely did. He didn't look angry either* only mildly irritated.

She had delayed looking at his brother for as long as she could* and finally gathered enough courage to turn to him. She still wasn't prepared. Alec Kincaid was a ferocious-looking warrior with piercing gray eyes and a scowl on his face she was sure would make Satan shiver.

"This isn't over* Connor. I will decide what to do after I speak to the woman."

He sounded as mean as he looked. Brenna gripped her hands together behind her back and tried to get her heart to stay inside her chest. God help her* she couldn't seem to get past her initial reaction to him. 'Twas the truth* he continued to terrify her* even after he'd quit his scowl and looked at her.