She wouldn't have him insulted now. "Father MacKechnie is weary from the long journey, m'lord, and would surely appreciate food and drink. Please show him your hospitality."

MacBain nodded. He turned to Calum. "See to it," he commanded.

He thought his agreement over her request would ease her fears about him. He had just proven he could be an accommodating man, after all. Yet she still appeared ready to bolt. Damn but she was a timid thing. His pet wasn't helping matters much. She kept worriedly glancing down at the dog, and every time she stared at him, the hound growled at her.

MacBain considered grabbing hold of her, tossing her over his shoulder, and carrying her inside, then changed his mind. The thought amused him, but he didn't smile. He held his patience, put his hand out to her, and simply waited to see what she would do.

From the look in his eyes, she knew he had guessed she was afraid of him and that he was finding her timidity amusing, too. She forced herself to take a deep breath, then put her hand in his.

He was huge everywhere. His hand was at least twice the size of her own, and he certainly must have felt her trembling. He was a laird, however, and she assumed he would never have attained that position of power without gaining a few gentlemanly manners along the way, and she therefore assumed he wouldn't mention her shameful condition.

"Why are you shaking?"

She tried to pull her hand away. He wouldn't let go. He had her now, and he wasn't about to let her get away.

Before Johanna could come up with a suitable explanation to his question, he turned and pulled her along up the steps and through the doorway.

"Because of your unusual weather," she blurted out.

"Our what?" He looked confused.

"Never mind, Laird."

"Explain what you meant," he commanded.

She sighed. "Nicholas explained that the weather here is warm all year around… I thought he'd told you about his…" She started to say lie, then changed her mind. The laird might not understand how amused she'd been over her brother's outrageous fabrication about the Highlands.

"His what?" MacBain asked, curious over her sudden blush.

"He said it was unusual to have such cold winds here," she said.

MacBain almost burst into laughter. He caught himself in time. The weather was actually unusually warm for this time of year.

He didn't even smile. The lass had already shown she had tender feelings, and he didn't suppose laughing at her naivete would soften her attitude toward him.

"And you believe everything your brother tells you?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," she answered so that he would know she was thoroughly loyal to her brother.

"I see."

"The cold is the reason I am trembling," she said for lack of a better lie to tell.

"No, it isn't."

"It isn't?"

"You're afraid of me."

He waited for her to lie to him again. She surprised him with the truth. "Yes," she announced. "I'm afraid of you. I'm afraid of your hound, too."

"Your answers please me."

He finally let go of her. She was so surprised by his remark she forgot to let go of his hand.

"It pleases you to know I fear you?"

He smiled. "I already knew you feared me, Johanna. I'm pleased because you admitted it. You could have lied."

"You would have known I was lying."

"Yes."

He sounded terribly arrogant, but she wasn't offended-she expected arrogance in a man as big and ferocious look ing as this warrior. She realized she was holding onto him then and immediately let go. Then she turned to look around the entrance. To the right was a wide staircase with an ornately carved wooden railing. A hallway led behind the staircase, and on the left of the entryway was the great hail. It was in ruins. Johanna stood on the top step and stared at the devastation. The walls were charred from fire, and the roof above the hall, what little there was left of it, hung down in a long strip to rest against the blackened sides. The smell of old smoke still lingered in the air.

Johanna went down the steps and crossed the room. She was so disheartened by the sight of the destruction, she felt like weeping.

MacBain watched the change in her expression as she looked around the room.

"My husband's men did this, didn't they?"

"Yes."

She turned to look at him. The sadness in her eyes actually pleased him. She was a woman with a conscience.

"A terrible injustice was done here."

"That is true," he agreed. "But you weren't responsible."

"I could have tried to plead with my husband…"

"I doubt he would have listened to you," MacBain announced. "Tell me something, Johanna. Did he know his vassal was causing such havoc here, or was he ignorant?"

"He knew what Marshall was capable of," she replied.

MacBain nodded. He clasped his hands behind his back and continued to stare at her. "You tried to right the injustice," he remarked. "You sent your brother here after Marshall."

"My husband's vassal had become a demigod. He didn't wish to hear the news that Raulf was dead and he was no longer needed here."

"He was never needed here." MacBain's voice had taken on a hard edge.

She nodded agreement. "No, he was never needed here."

He let out a sigh. "Marshall had found power. Very few men can give that up."

"Could you?"

He was surprised by her question. He started to answer yes, of course he could, but he was new to his position as laird and honestly didn't know if he could step down or not.

"I've yet to be tested," he admitted. "I would hope, if it was for the good of the clan, I could do whatever was asked of me, but I cannot say for certain until I'm faced with such a challenge."

His honesty impressed her, and she smiled. "Nicholas was angry with you because Marshall had slipped away and you wouldn't let him go after him. He said the two of you argued, then you struck him into a sound sleep. When he next opened his eyes, Marshall was in a heap at his feet."

MacBain smiled. Nicholas had certainly softened the bloody tale.

"You're going to marry me, Johanna."

He sounded emphatic. He wasn't smiling now. Johanna braced herself against his anger and then slowly shook her head.

"Explain the reason behind your hesitation," he commanded.

She shook her head at him again. MacBain wasn't used to being contradicted, but he tried not to let his impatience show. He knew he wasn't very skilled in conversation with women. He certainly didn't know how to woo the fairer sex, and he knew he was making a muck out of this discussion.

Why in God's name had Johanna been given the choice in the first place? Nicholas simply should have told her she was going to get married, and that would have been the end of it. This discussion shouldn't even be taking place. Damn it all, they should be in the middle of their wedding ceremony, exchanging their vows.

"I don't like timid women."

Johanna's shoulders straightened. "I'm not timid," she announced. "I've learned to be cautious, m'lord, but I have never, ever been timid."

"I see." He didn't believe her.

"I don't like big men, even handsome ones."

"You think me handsome?"

How had he managed to turn her words into a compliment? He seemed surprised, too, as though he really wasn't aware of his own appeal. "You misunderstand, sir," she told him. "Being handsome is a mark against you." She ignored his incredulous expression and repeated, "And I especially dislike big men."

She knew she sounded ridiculous. She didn't care. She wasn't about to back down now. She looked him right in the eye while she folded her arms across her middle and frowned up at him. Her neck was already getting a crick in it from looking up.

"What think you of my opinion, m'lord?"

The challenge was there in her stance and her tone of voice. She was bravely standing up to him now. He had the sudden urge to laugh again.