He hadn't raised his voice to her, but she acted as though he had by backing farther away from him. "My trunk, Quinlan?" she reminded the soldier.
"We left it behind with your saddle, mi'lady."
"Please go and get it for me."
Quinlan turned to Connor to judge his reaction to her request before answering.
His laird shook his head but remained stubbornly silent, much to Quinlan's consternation, leaving him to fend for himself. "It isn't possible for me to go and get it for you. We left it behind several hours ago, and we've traveled a fair distance since then, over rough terrain, if you'll remember. We had to leave it, mi'lady," he quickly added when he noticed the look in her eyes. "The wagon wouldn't have made it up the narrow climb."
"Why did you leave it behind without asking my permission first?"
"By your laird's command," he explained, thinking that important fact would end the discussion once and for all. He was mistaken. Lady Brenna wasn't ready to let it go.
"Didn't it occur to either one of you that there might be some important reason why I wanted to keep the trunk?"
If she'd given him time to think of a reply, Quinlan was sure he would have thought of something appropriate to say to her, but she didn't give him time. His mistress's outrage seemed to be gathering momentum as she continued. "My sister Joan gave me the trunk and I had planned to put my children's clothes inside. I treasure it."
Quinlan suddenly felt about as low and inadequate as an Englishman must feel every time he looked in a mirror. He turned to his laird again, willing him with his hard stare and a slight nudge to take over the battle. Damn it all, Quinlan wasn't married to the distraught woman. Connor was. Let him suffer her disappointment.
Connor continued to stay stonily silent, however. "Mi'lady, it was necessary," Quinlan said. "Isn't that right, Laird?"
Brenna didn't particularly care what her husband had to say about it. She was too disheartened to listen to anyone any longer. The injustices done to her in the past several days were taking their toll now, and she thought that if she didn't get away from her husband for a few minutes, she'd start screaming.
She didn't bother to excuse herself; she simply walked away. A sudden thought made her stop. "My saddle, Quinlan? Did you say you also left the saddle my dear sister Rachel loaned to me?"
"Did you have another one, Brenna?" Connor asked dryly.
Lord, how she hated his condescending, be-reasonable tone. "No, I didn't." she answered.
"Mi'lady, it was also necessary to leave your sister's saddle behind," Quinlan blurted out.
"I treasured it too," she whispered.
Quinlan's shoulders slumped. He had known she would say that.
"I cannot help but wonder why you didn't ask my permission first, though."
Quinlan vowed not to say another word. He stared at his laird, imitated his threatening stance by folding his arms across his chest, and simply waited.
Connor didn't take the hint fast enough to please his friend. "Wouldn't you like to answer your wife?" Quinlan sounded downright desperate.
Connor let his friend see his exasperation before turning to Brenna. "I wouldn't be laird if I asked permission before I made decisions, especially insignificant ones. You were merely curious, weren't you? You wouldn't show disapproval of your husband's actions in front of his followers. Isn't that right?"
She surprised him by agreeing. "Yes, I was simply curious, and no, I would never criticize you in front of your followers. Do you have the patience to endure one more question, husband?"
"What is it?"
"When do you suppose you'll leave me behind?"
Connor's mood darkened in the space of a heartbeat. He took a threatening step forward and briskly ordered her to come to him.
Quinlan moved back, looked to the heavens, and began to pray for divine intervention. His mistress had never seen Connor lose his temper, and though Quinlan knew his laird would never physically harm her, or any other woman for that matter, he could do considerable damage to her heart.
He wouldn't be cruel, though, and for that reason, Quinlan didn't try to intervene. The fat was in the fire now, and she had placed it there when she deliberately provoked her husband by asking him such an atrocious question. She would have to suffer the consequences of her actions, and by moving a little distance away from the two of them, Quinlan hoped she would realize he wouldn't, and couldn't, come to her assistance.
Connor didn't have any intention of losing his temper, for he knew that his bride was worn out. The shadows under her eyes indicated her exhaustion. He was fully responsible for her condition, of course, and believed the only thing he could do about it now was force her to bed. Getting her to relax enough to sleep was going to be a little more difficult. She'd have to get rid of the tension inside her first, and perhaps arguing would serve that purpose. A good fight always left him feeling relaxed, and while he admitted he didn't know anything at all about how gentlewomen like Brenna would react, he didn't believe there was any harm in letting her rail at him. Once she was rested, she would become reasonable again, or so he hoped, and then she would beg his forgiveness.
"You're being unreasonable, Brenna."
"I believe I'm being very reasonable."
"You do? Then explain your reason for asking me such a question. Did your sainted parents leave you behind?" He fully expected a denial, of course.
She gave him the truth instead. "As a matter of fact, they did." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Now Connor was going to have an even lower opinion of her dear parents.
"They didn't leave me on purpose. They just forgot. Surely you see the difference."
"Do you expect me to believe they forgot you? No parents would leave their child behind, even English parents."
"Your wife looks as though she means what she says," Quinlan interjected. "Did they leave you at home, mi'lady?"
She shook her head. "I spoke in haste."
"Then you exaggerated?" Connor asked, thinking he was being considerate because he hadn't asked her to admit she'd lied to him.
"You're making this more important that it was. I wish I'd never said a word now, because you're going to think ill of my mother and father. You just don't understand. It only happened a couple of times, and they were still loving parents. They had eight children, and with so many, they were bound to forget about one of us every now and again. It was all my own fault anyway. I should have stayed with the others."
"They left you twice?"
The bit of added information she'd mentioned had stunned him.
"You look furious, and I cannot imagine why. You weren't left behind. I was, and I assure you, it didn't bother me at all."
"Of course it bothered you," he countered. "Did they ever forget any of the others?"
"No, but I tended to wander…"
He wouldn't listen to any excuses. "Where did these loving parents leave you?"
The pigheaded man was never going to understand, and she was suddenly too tired to keep on trying to make him. Lord, he was a trial, and if she didn't find a little peace and quiet soon, she was going to start screaming like a madwoman.
Connor didn't look as if he was in any mood to leave, and so she decided she would.
He had other inclinations. He wasn't going to let her walk away from him until she satisfied his curiosity. "I want an answer."
"I have finished discussing this topic."
The look he gave her suggested she change her mind.
"Honestly, Connor, you're just like a flea chasing after a hound. My parents left me in the middle of the countryside. Are you happy now? Or was there something more embarrassing you wanted me to admit?"
She didn't wait around long enough to find out. She didn't bother to ask permission to leave either, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from bowing her head to both men before she walked away. She blamed the courtesy on her mother because she'd been relentless in her attempts to turn her daughters into proper ladies.