"Brocca's husband is waiting to find out if you want one of his hound's pups or not," he repeated.
"Why would he want to give me a pup?"
"It's all he has to give."
"But why…"
"It's a gift, Brenna. You've shown his wife kindness and he wishes to repay you."
"How thoughtful of him," she replied. "Would you mind having a hound inside?"
He shook his head. "I'll tell him you'll be happy to have the pup then. Try not to lose him, all right?"
"For heaven's sake," she muttered. "You're really doing your best to put me in a bad mood, aren't you?"
He didn't bother to answer her. He surprised her when he pulled her close to his side and put his arms around her shoulders.
"You aren't disappointed it's a hound?"
She gave him a curious glance. "No, of course not. Why would you think I would be?"
His voice was filled with laughter when he answered her. "It isn't a piglet."
"You do remember meeting me," she cried out.
He opened the door for her before explaining. "Of course, I remember. I also remember holding you in my arms. You weighed less than my plaid. I think you were about Grace's age."
"No, I was much older."
"You smelled like the piglet you had rolled up in your skirts."
"I couldn't have. I had just had a bath. My sister told me so."
"You were trying to tell me what to do even when you were a baby. I really should have known then."
She was having difficulty paying attention to the conversation, for his eyes were filled with such warmth, she really couldn't think about anything else. Lord, he was handsome. "Known what?" she asked him in a breathless whisper.
"That you were going to be trouble."
She thought that was about the nicest thing he had ever said to her, and it wasn't until she had let out a loud sigh in appreciation and told him thank you that she realized he hadn't given her a compliment.
He didn't laugh at her. In fact, he pulled her into his arms, leaned down, and whispered, "You're welcome."
She didn't know he was going to kiss her until he was doing exactly that. She felt as though she was being crushed against his hard chest, so powerful and fierce was his grip, yet his mouth was surprisingly gentle against hers. His tongue thrust inside to deepen the kiss, arousing a response she didn't expect or understand until it had ended and he was pulling back away from her.
Everything was suddenly different. She wanted to hold on to him for the rest of her life, and while she wanted to believe it was only because she was so relieved to have him home again to deal with Raen, she knew there was another reason as well.
She was in love with him.
The realization didn't make her happy. It made her miserable. How had she managed to make such a foolish mistake? He didn't love her; he just put up with her, that was all, so that he could have heirs.
He watched her closely, frowning with concern over the tears he saw in her eyes. "Mind telling me why you're crying?"
"It happened too soon," she stammered out. "I knew better, Connor, honestly I did."
"Brenna, what are you talking about? What happened too soon?"
She finally came to her senses. She wasn't about to admit she loved him and thought she'd rather stand naked in front of a church full of strangers than admit her mistake. Being vulnerable was bad enough, boasting of it would be horrible.
He wouldn't understand if she tried to explain it to him anyway. She doubted he could ever love her. So caught up was he in the past, he simply didn't have room in his heart for anything else.
"Will you answer me?" he demanded.
"I missed you," she blurted out. "I didn't want to, but I did anyway. You were gone a long time."
Her answer seemed to satisfy him. He kissed her once again, briefly yet with just as much passion, and then followed her inside and up the stairs to the main floor.
"While you were away, I gathered all the bits and pieces of information from the older men and women here and was finally able to put it all together."
"What did you put together?"
"Your past," she answered. "I know what happened to your father. I just wanted to tell you I understand why the ruins are still standing. You intend to keep them there until you've gained justice in your father's name."
"I would have explained if you'd asked."
"Then I will ask you my questions in future. Don't frown, Connor. I want you to be in a good mood when you see my surprise."
He braced himself for what he was about to see, gave her an abrupt nod to let her know he would try to be pleased, and then said, "Quinlan assures me you haven't done anything. damaging."
"Damaging? For heaven's sake, why would you think such a thing?" she asked before she remembered his reaction to the holes in his courtyard. "I plan to cover the mess made outside," she explained then. "After the soldiers put the posts down inside to brace the structure I thought to have constructed, and I…"
"Brenna?"
The warning was there in his eyes and in his voice. "Yes?"
"We aren't going to talk about it now."
"No, of course not. Smile, Connor. This is your homecoming. Besides, Euphemia may be inside, and I won't have her thinking we aren't happily wed."
His laughter surprised her. "Why does it matter what she thinks?"
How could he be so dense? "I must make her like me because she's your stepmother. You did tell me to honor her."
"I did?"
"Yes, or maybe I told you I would. It doesn't matter. She deserves our respect."
"Yes," he agreed.
Connor pulled the door open and waited for her to go ahead of him. She didn't budge. "I have one favor to ask you. Tonight, when we sit at the table together…"
"Yes?" he prodded.
She blushed while she blurted out the instruction to him. "Please look at me often, and don't frown at me. Try to hang on my every word, all right?"
Fortunately, she didn't require an answer, for she hurried on ahead into the entrance. A crowd of soldiers waiting for their laird bowed to her as soon as they saw her. She greeted each one by name, which surprised and pleased her husband, until he realized he was already looking at her and smiling and surely appeared to be hanging on her every word.
"Brenna, wait for me in the hall while I settle a few matters."
She bowed to him for the benefit of his followers and hurried inside. Her thought was to stand in front of the hearth so that she could see his immediate reaction to her additions.
She was halfway across the chamber before she realized everything was all wrong. She stared in disbelief, for the chamber was once again as stark and forboding as when she'd first seen it. Even the rushes were missing from the floors.
What in heaven's name had happened? Where was the lovely cloth she'd worked so hard to finish before Connor returned?
"Mi'lady?" Netta whispered from the archway leading to the back door.
Brenna gave the entrance a quick glance, saw that Connor was still fully occupied listening to the petitions of his soldiers, and then hurried over to the servant.
"What happened, Netta? Where are all the cushions?"
"Lady Euphemia had a fit when she sat down on one. She declared it was far too uncomfortable for anyone to suffer, and after trying out each one, she ordered them removed at once. She told me to burn them, mi'lady, so you wouldn't be embarrassed in front of your husband."
"The cloth… what about the cloth we put on the table."
Netta shook her head. " 'Twas an accident," she whispered. "At least that is what Lady Euphemia told me. She insisted on having wine with her nooning meal. The color's red, if you'll remember, mi'lady, but she misjudged her reach for her goblet and she spilled it everywhere. She insisted the goblet knocked the pitcher over. Oh, mi'lady, it's ruined now. I know you stayed up half of every night our laird was away so you could finish the stitches, and it looked so lovely too, mi'lady. Why, even Quinlan remarked that it was."