Netta didn't come inside. "Father Sinclair has arrived, but you needn't hurry to greet him. He's busy hearing confession in the lower bailey now and won't make his way up here for another hour or so."
"You're certain?" Brenna asked. "I wouldn't want to keep him waiting."
"If Fionna goes through with her promise to give her confession, I'm certain. She has enough sins to keep Father busy for the rest of the day."
"Talk like that will get you a long penance, Netta," she replied with a laugh.
"I'm only telling the truth, so it can't be a sin. Would you like my help getting dressed, mi'lady?"
"No, thank you."
Netta looked disappointed. "I'll go on down to the hall then. I'm dreading it though, because you-know-who is sitting at the table, acting like a queen."
"Are you referring to Lady MacAlister?"
Netta nodded. Brenna immediately scolded her. "You must honor and respect her," she said. "She's your laird's stepmother, if you'll remember."
"As you wish, mi'lady."
"I do wish. Please try, Netta. I know she can be difficult."
"Aye, it is difficult, especially since she took away all your nice improvements. The cushions weren't lumpy, mi'lady. They were perfect."
Brenna thanked her for her kind opinion and sent her away so she could get dressed. While she washed, she made her list of things she must do today. First and most important, she would take her husband aside and tell him about Raen. Yes, that was the most imperative duty she had, but if there was time and opportunity, she was also going to try to find out exactly how long Lady Euphemia would be staying.
As was her custom each and every morning before she left her bedroom, she said a quick prayer for assistance in getting Euphemia to like her.
God willing, today would be the day.
Talking to Connor came first, however, and even though she would have died of embarrassment if she'd been caught, she sneaked out so that she wouldn't be delayed listening to Euphemia complain. Luck was on her side; the elder woman faced the entrance and didn't see her.
Brenna wasn't particularly worried she would run into Raen, however, because he went riding every day and stayed away from the holding until nightfall.
By tonight, he would be gone… forever.
Where was Connor? She searched high and low for her husband. He had promised her he wouldn't leave, and she knew he would never break his word to her. He had gone either to the lake or the ruins, she decided, and she meant to find out which from Crispin. Fortunately, she located him in the lower bailey.
She waited by the side of the path for the commander to finish his conversation with two other soldiers, and then called out to him. "May I interrupt for just a moment, Crispin?"
"Certainly, mi'lady," he answered. He hurried over to her and bowed his head.
"I've looked everywhere for my husband. Do you know where he is?"
"He's gone, mi'lady. I'm not certain when he'll be back."
"Gone to the lake?"
"He went to Laird Hugh's holding. He should be away at least three or four days, perhaps more."
Her reaction thoroughly puzzled him. She looked as though she were going to faint dead away, and when she grabbed hold of his arm and gripped him so fiercely, he realized she was actually afraid.
"Where's Raen?" she asked. She frantically looked around her.
"He left early this morning, mi'lady. Three soldiers from Laird Finley's holding rode with him. They also were on their way back north. The higher their number, the better their protection," he added in the event she didn't understand.
She felt like weeping with relief. "Raen won't be back then, will he?"
"No, mi'lady, he won't."
"Thank God. I wanted to tell Connor, but he left, Crispin, before I could, and now I… Why did he leave? He told me he wouldn't."
Crispin patted her hand in an attempt to get her to let go of him. "Hugh died last night. It was important for your laird to pay his respects. Laird Kincaid will surely do the same."
It was suddenly all right again. Connor hadn't lied to her. He simply hadn't anticipated his friend's death.
"I'm sorry for Hugh's family. I hope he died peacefully."
"We were told he died in his sleep. Does this news please you, mi'lady? You're smiling."
She felt like a fool. "I'm pleased because my husband had to leave. He didn't lie to me. I'm not at all happy to hear about Hugh. I shall go and find Father and ask him to pray for his departed soul."
"Sinclair's hearing confessions. I'll send him to you as soon as he's finished."
She finally let go of the soldier. "I don't know what came over me. I was…"
"Afraid."
She slowly nodded. "Yes, I was. I'm not now."
She bowed to Crispin and started back up the hill. "Mi'lady? You were afraid of Raen, weren't you?"
She pretended not to hear him, but he followed her and repeated the question to her again. She turned around, smiled, and said, "I wasn't afraid."
He felt a stab of disappointment that she didn't trust him enough to tell him the truth.
"I was terrified."
He blinked. "Why, mi'lady?"
"I feel I should explain to Connor first when he returns, but I assure you, Crispin, if there was any possibility at all that Raen would be coming back before then, I would tell you everything. Do you understand?"
"I do," he replied. "Raen is Connor's stepbrother, and Connor should be the first to hear what you have to say. I'm only sorry you didn't tell him."
"I'm sorry too," she said, admitting only to herself she wouldn't have changed anything that had happened last night.
She tried to leave once again. "Mi'lady, what are your plans for today?"
It wasn't the question that made her laugh. It was the dread she heard in his voice. "Don't worry. I won't be riding the black today."
She stayed outside much longer than she'd intended, visiting with several ladies who had taken their sewing outside, and she didn't return to the keep until midafternoon. As she hurried inside, she rehearsed what she would say when she greeted Euphemia. "She best not call me a child again," she muttered.
Her bluster was short-lived, and with a sigh, she admitted the woman could call her child as often as she wanted, and she wouldn't say a word to her. Criticizing would never win her approval.
Dear heavens, how long was she going to stay? Brenna tried to think of a way to ask Euphemia, but no matter how she phrased the question, it sounded a mite eager.
She put the problem aside when she entered the great hall. "Good afternoon, Lady Euphemia. How are you feeling today?"
"Brenna, I know I've mentioned this to you before, but it seems I must mention it again. I prefer being called Lady MacAlister. I realize you don't know any better-you're just a child, after all-but I want you to try a little harder."
She took a deep breath. "Yes, Lady MacAlister. I'll try harder."
"Did you hear the sad news about Hugh?"
"Yes."
"It's a shame, isn't it? He led such a wasted life. Never did amount to anything or do anything worth remembering."
"I'm certain his family doesn't feel that way," she replied.
"He never married. No woman would have him. Oh, heavens, I wish I had remembered to tell Connor the news Raen gave the other day. It slipped my mind. I'll probably forget again by the time he returns. Age does that to a body, Brenna. It makes one forget little things."
"Perhaps if you told me, I would remind you if you should forget," she offered.
She stood with her hands folded together, waiting for Euphemia to invite her to join her at the table. She didn't dare sit without an invitation, for Connor's stepmother had berated her for doing that very thing just two days ago. She wouldn't make the mistake again. Getting along with the woman was proving to be her greatest challenge, she decided.