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?