The Wedding

by Julie Garwood

  “Thank you, Laird.”

  “Alec was thanking you,” Connor told her.

  “I realize that. I was thanking him for showing me such kindness.”

  “If I were not so grateful to you for coming to my daughter’s assistance, I would have to take issue with you for believing Connor and I wouldn’t notice anything was amiss. We notice everything.”

  “For two intelligent women, you both misjudged us,” Connor said.

  “Aye, you did,” Alec agreed. He removed his hand and stepped back. “You do understand that it was our decision that allowed you to win your wager, but you need not thank us for our thoughtfulness.”

  She laughed again. “You believe you let me win? I think not, Laird.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “We deliberately pretended not to notice.”

  “That is so,” she agreed. “And you would be right to believe you favored the outcome if your observation had been what we wagered about. Jamie and I knew you would notice.”

  “What was the wager over?” Connor asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.

  “Jamie was sure you wouldn’t be able to keep silent and would demand to know what happened as soon as you looked at me. I wagered you wouldn’t say a word, and if my memory serves me, I do believe that is exactly what happened.”

  “One is the same as the other,” Connor argued.

  “Is it?” she asked with an innocent smile and a look that told him she thought he was wrong.

  “Admit it, Connor. The victory belongs to Brenna,” Alec conceded.

  “It does,” Connor agreed.

  “Will Jamie bring Grace with her when she plants my flowers?”

  “No, I don’t let my children leave my land. Connor, I’ll be riding with my wife. I expect you to be there.”

  Alec shoved him once again to show his affection, before striding back toward his home. Grace must have been waiting just inside the doors, for as soon as Alec pulled one open, she ran to him and snatched her blanket out of his hand.

  Once she and Connor were on their way, Brenna made herself more comfortable by shifting her weight on his lap and wrapping her arms around his waist.

  “I was sorry I didn’t get to say good-bye to Grace.”

  “She’s busy explaining her conduct to her father now.”

  “What will he do to her? It was an accident, Connor. Surely Alec won’t hurt her tender feelings.”

  “She and Dillon are not allowed upstairs alone. Alec will simply remind Grace to obey his orders.”

  “Are the other children as carefree?”

  “No. The boys are shy of strangers, but God help you once they get used to you. They’re far more devilish than Grace is.”

  “I fear she will always be my favorite.”

  Connor was deliberately trying to keep up the idle conversation so Brenna wouldn’t notice the number of Kincaid soldiers riding escort. He didn’t want her to become concerned about Alec’s reasons. She might even assume MacNare was somehow responsible for his brother’s outrageously protective gesture.

  He knew he was going to have to put up with his brother’s interference. He wasn’t happy about it, though. Neither was Quinlan, but unlike his laird, he wasn’t trying to hide his irritation.

  “I would not make a favorite of one of my children,” she assured him.

  He didn’t have anything to say about that. She wanted to keep him talking, in hopes that the conversation would take her mind off the pain nagging her now. Her head was throbbing, and her thigh was once again burning something fierce.

  He realized what her goal was as soon as she shifted position in his lap again.

  “I had already left home before Dillon and Grace were born,” he remarked. “I am closest to Mary Kathleen, as I know her better than the others. Still, I will admit I have a special fondness for Grace, but only because she reminds me of someone else.”

  She tried to look up at him, but he gently pushed her face against his chest so she couldn’t. She pinched him to let him know how much she disliked that and then asked him to tell her who Grace reminded him of.

  “A child I once held in my arms.”

  He wouldn’t tell her anything more, but the memory of the child he’d held had pleased him. The warmth in his voice told her so.

  “Are you pleased Euphemia is coming to visit?”

  “Yes. You aren’t, though, are you?”

  “Of course I am,” she argued. “I’m just a little . . . apprehensive about meeting her. It’s very important to win her approval,” she added. “She’s your mother, after all, and it would be very upsetting if she didn’t like me.”

  “Why?”

  She couldn’t believe he needed to ask. “Because there must be harmony in your household, that’s why, and it’s up to me to see to her wishes. While she’s in your home, she’s mistress. Surely you understand now.”

  “You worry about every little thing. She’ll like you just fine.”

  She wasn’t as certain as Connor was, but she vowed to win Euphemia’s love. Several minutes passed as she thought about different ways she could please the woman, and then she put the worry aside and moved on. She tried to think about the lovely time she’d had visiting with Jamie as a means of taking her mind off the pounding her thigh was taking. It didn’t work.

  “It’s a good day for a walk, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t answer her. She wasn’t deterred. “I believe I’d like to walk for a little while. It will be nice to stretch my legs.”

  “No.” He softened his denial by brushing his chin across the top of her head. “Would it help if I carry you facedown across my lap?”

  His suggestion horrified her. She pictured herself flung over his knees with her head hanging down on one side of the stallion and her feet dangling down on the other, and she thought she might die of mortification then and there.

  What a wonderful way that would be for her to meet his followers. “I cannot imagine what you think to help with your suggestion. I’m perfectly fine, thank you. I merely thought a walk would be invigorating on such a fine day. Forget I mentioned it.”

  She had placed pride above comfort, just as he had expected her to do. He moved his hand under her skirts to find out for himself the extent of her injury. He considered stopping to take a look, but quickly discarded the idea. Getting her cooperation would take him an hour, and in another ten minutes, they would reach the division between the lands and be home at last.

  His touch felt like a caress. Still, she didn’t like it. She went completely still and whispered, “Remove your hand.”

  “You’ve got a fair-sized bruise, don’t you? Does it hurt?”

  “It doesn’t hurt at all. Please remove your hand. It’s embarrassing.”

  Connor conceded.

  “An Englishman would give his wife a little sympathy,” she muttered.

  “I’m not English.”

  “No, you’re not,” she agreed. “May I ask you questions about your home?”

  “Yes.”

  “First, please tell me when we’ll reach your land.”

  “Look to the rise above you and you’ll see my sentries watching us.”

  She immediately straightened her appearance. She ran her fingers through her hair to get the tangles out, bumped Connor’s shoulder as she smoothed her curls behind her, fixed the pleats of her plaid to her satisfaction, and pinched color into her cheeks.

  “What in God’s name are you doing?”

  “Pinching myself.”

  He told himself not to ask. He did anyway.

  “Because I don’t want to look pale.”

  He shook his head. He had never heard of anything so preposterous.

  “How long before we reach your fortress?” she asked.

  “Very soon.”

  “Do you mean to tell me we live close to Alec and Jamie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will I be able to visit as often as I wish?”

  “Yes.”

 
Her enthusiasm made her forget her pain. He explained he hadn’t built his home in the center of his property, but near the edge of his brother’s land, instead. She assumed he’d done so to please Alec.

  The MacAlister soldiers let out a cheer in greeting when their laird raised his hand.

  “Do they always cheer you when you return home?”

  “No, only when I’ve been away a long time.”

  “How long were you away then?”

  “Almost three weeks.”

  What had he been doing all that while? She was just about to ask him when she remembered the blue paint on his face. She promptly changed her mind. If she found out he’d been raiding, her good mood would be ruined. She’d ruin his as well because she would feel compelled to let him know what she thought about that barbaric pastime.

  She noticed how the soldiers stared at her when they rode past, and even though she smiled at them, they didn’t smile back. She started worrying in no time at all.

  “Will your followers dislike me because I was supposed to marry MacNare?”

  “No.”

  “None of the six soldiers we just passed smiled at me.”

  “Of course they didn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re my wife. They’ll honor you.”

  “And if I’m not worthy of their honor?”

  “You are.”

  She thought that was a very thoughtful, kind thing to say to her, and since Connor wasn’t a thoughtful or kind man, she immediately became suspicious.

  “Why?”

  “Because I chose you.”

  “I chose you, remember?”

  “You like to argue with me, don’t you?”

  She didn’t believe his question merited an answer. “Will I like your home?”

  “Of course.”

  “I can’t wait to see it. Is it as appealing as Alec’s home? I won’t be disappointed if it isn’t,” she hastened to add. “I don’t need it to be grand. Is it?”

  Her enthusiasm made him smile. “Yes, it’s just as appealing as my brother’s home.”

  “You’re proud of it, aren’t you? I can hear it in your voice.”

  “I suppose I am.”

  “Is the hall as large as Alec’s? I won’t mind if it isn’t.”

  “Because you don’t need it to be as large.”

  “Yes.”

  “I cannot say for certain if it’s as large. I’ve never taken the time to notice.”

  “What makes your home so appealing?”

  “It’s secure.”

  What did secure have to do with appearance? “But what does it look like?”

  “Invincible,” he answered.

  She wasn’t getting anywhere with him. She would have to wait and see for herself, she decided.

  He thought he’d told her everything she needed to know. Although he felt his home was invincible, there was still work to be done on the wall. He was going to reinforce the wood with stone as his brother had suggested, and add yet another platform on the northern peak.

  Brenna’s excitement mounted as they rode along, and her mood was so improved, she couldn’t stop smiling.

  Connor’s mood darkened as soon as the ruins of his father’s home came into view.

  “Who lived here?” she whispered as she stared at the charred remains of the vast structure.

  “My father.”

  “Did he die there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you live there with him?”

  “Yes.”

  The coldness in his voice told her he didn’t want to be questioned about his past. She had every intention of finding out everything she could about her husband so she would be able to understand how he had become such a hard, rigid man, but she knew she would have to be patient and undemanding, or he would never open his heart to her. She would first prove to him that she could be trusted, and eventually he would soften his attitude and begin to confide in her.

  She couldn’t stop staring at the destruction. Even after they had ridden past, she leaned into Connor’s side so she could look behind him to study it.

  She had seen the results of fire before, but there was something puzzling about the MacAlister ruin. It took her several minutes before she finally figured out what was missing. The burned crofter’s cottage she’d once seen had quickly been overgrown by weeds. This ruin wasn’t. There was a forest on three sides of it, yet not one vine had reached the hollowed-out remains. Obviously it had been carefully maintained, and perhaps that was why it seemed so eerie to her.

  Why hadn’t Connor ordered it torn down? Had he left it to be a reminder to himself and his followers? Patience, she reminded herself. In time she would have her answers.

  She straightened up and turned around again. She slipped her hand into his free one, leaned back against him, and said a prayer for his father’s soul. She added another one for his dear mother.

  Her new home came into view a minute later. She started praying for herself then. She closed her eyes too, frantically hoping that what she believed she’d seen she really hadn’t seen at all, but when she gathered enough courage to look again, the monstrous thing was still there, looming over her from the top of a hill like an angry gargoyle.

  God really must have been furious with her to have put her in such an ugly place. She must have caused her parents far more worry than she’d ever realized, and saying that she was sorry hadn’t been enough to appease him.

  Get hold of yourself, she ordered. God wasn’t responsible for this fortress; Connor was.

  She took a deep breath and told herself to find something nice about her new home. She would study the fortress from bottom to top, and when she was finished, by God, she would be smiling with excitement.

  It was gigantic. That was nice, wasn’t it? It was, if bigger was indeed better, as Connor obviously believed.

  It was also tall. The fortress was at least three-stories high, perhaps even four, though it was difficult to tell because she couldn’t seem to find any windows to give her hints.

  Still, it was big. And tall.

  She finally spotted the windows. Relieved to see them, she felt like weeping with gratitude. She wasn’t going to have to live inside a tomb after all. The windows were there all right, but they’d been covered with an ugly brown fabric, which actually matched the color of dried mud rather nicely; though why in God’s name anyone would want them to was beyond her. She would take them down as soon as possible, and then it wouldn’t look so bad, would it?

  Of course it would. Flowers weren’t going to help. She would need a miracle to turn this thing into a home.

  She felt ashamed of herself. She wasn’t concerned only about appearances, and she must adjust her attitude at once. She would start by calling the hideous monstrosity her home.

  “Brenna, is something wrong?”

  “Why would you think something was wrong?”

  “You’re panting, like you can’t catch your breath.”

  She said the first thing that came into her mind. Thankfully, it wasn’t a lie. “Your home has taken my breath away.”

  She probably should add a compliment or two so that Connor would know she appreciated his efforts. He was proud of his fortress, and a good wife would at least try to feel the same.

  “It’s very big.”

  He didn’t have anything to say about that.

  “Why, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen one as big. It’s also tall, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t have anything to say about that either.

  “Have you finished it then?”

  “Are you asking if the back of the fortress is finished?”

  No, she hadn’t even thought about the back of the keep. She wanted to know if he’d finished the front. “Is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see,” she replied for lack of anything better to say. “Your rampart is very impressive, isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “It’s at le
ast fifteen feet high. Odd that the wood turned such a brownish color, isn’t it?”

  He tightened his hold around her waist, pulled her back against his chest, and leaned down close to her ear. “Brenna?”

  “Yes, Connor?”

  “It’s going to be all right.”

  It took her a full minute before she could nod her agreement. She added a silent prayer next for strength and endurance and vowed to make the best of her circumstances. She had never walked away from a difficult task before, and although the idea held a certain appeal now, she wouldn’t give in to her hopelessness. Nothing was impossible to achieve if she worked hard enough and used the mind God had given her.

  She felt better once her resolve was back in place, and after they’d crossed the drawbridge, she looked at her new home with renewed interest. She smiled for the benefit of his followers. Like the sentries, they didn’t smile back. They didn’t frown or turn their backs on her, though. Perhaps they didn’t quite know what to make of her, she thought. She would have to convince them through her good works that she was worthy of their respect.

  “You’ve enclosed half the mountain, haven’t you?”

  “It isn’t a mountain, but a hill, wife.”

  “Why, there must be thirty huts inside the lower bailey alone, yet room for thirty more. Do your soldiers train inside the walls?”

  “Sometimes,” he answered as he led the way to the upper bailey.

  Brenna tried to see everything at once.

  Just before they reached the courtyard Connor called a halt. He dismounted and turned to assist her while he tried to answer the questions the men called out to him.

  He had only just let go of his wife when the crowd surrounded him. Holding the stallion’s reins behind his back, he started up the last of the incline. He assumed Brenna was right behind him, and when the reins were taken out of his hand, he thought Quinlan or Owen had taken over the duty of leading the horse to the stablemaster, for they were the only two soldiers the temperamental stallion would let near.

  Men and women pushed forward to speak to their laird. Brenna kept backing away so she wouldn’t get trampled. The stallion didn’t like the crowd pressing in on him any more than she did and reared up in protest. She grabbed hold of his reins before he did any damage to anyone, and forced the animal to back up with her. She was nearly lifted off her feet a couple of times, then was pushed backward as the disgruntled beast tried to charge her. The training her brothers had forced on her came to her assistance now. She refused to give in to the animal’s intimidating antics, and she tightened her hold on his reins and jerked his head down hard. After one last moment of struggle, the horse understood she meant to get her way.