What a wonderful way that would be for her to meet his followers. "I cannot imagine what you think to help with your suggestion. I'm perfectly fine, thank you. I merely thought a walk would be invigorating on such a fine day. Forget I mentioned it."

She had placed pride above comfort, just as he had expected her to do. He moved his hand under her skirts to find out for himself the extent of her injury. He considered stopping to take a look, but quickly discarded the idea. Getting her cooperation would take him an hour, and in another ten minutes, they would reach the division between the lands and be home at last.

His touch felt like a caress. Still, she didn't like it. She went completely still and whispered, "Remove your hand."

"You've got a fair-sized bruise, don't you? Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't hurt at all. Please remove your hand. It's embarrassing."

Connor conceded.

"An Englishman would give his wife a little sympathy," she muttered.

"I'm not English."

"No, you're not," she agreed. "May I ask you questions about your home?"

"Yes."

"First, please tell me when we'll reach your land."

"Look to the rise above you and you'll see my sentries watching us."

She immediately straightened her appearance. She ran her fingers through her hair to get the tangles out, bumped Connor's shoulder as she smoothed her curls behind her, fixed the pleats of her plaid to her satisfaction, and pinched color into her cheeks.

"What in God's name are you doing?"

"Pinching myself."

He told himself not to ask. He did anyway.

"Because I don't want to look pale."

He shook his head. He had never heard of anything so preposterous.

"How long before we reach your fortress?" she asked.

"Very soon."

"Do you mean to tell me we live close to Alec and Jamie?"

"Yes."

"Will I be able to visit as often as I wish?"

"Yes."

Her enthusiasm made her forget her pain. He explained he hadn't built his home in the center of his property, but near the edge of his brother's land, instead. She assumed he'd done so to please Alec.

The MacAlister soldiers let out a cheer in greeting when their laird raised his hand.

"Do they always cheer you when you return home?"

"No, only when I've been away a long time."

"How long were you away then?"

"Almost three weeks."

What had he been doing all that while? She was just about to ask him when she remembered the blue paint on his face. She promptly changed her mind. If she found out he'd been raiding, her good mood would be ruined. She'd ruin his as well because she would feel compelled to let him know what she thought about that barbaric pastime.

She noticed how the soldiers stared at her when they rode past, and even though she smiled at them, they didn't smile back. She started worrying in no time at all.

"Will your followers dislike me because I was supposed to marry MacNare?"

"No."

"None of the six soldiers we just passed smiled at me."

"Of course they didn't."

"Why not?"

"Because you're my wife. They'll honor you."

"And if I'm not worthy of their honor?"

"You are."

She thought that was a very thoughtful, kind thing to say to her, and since Connor wasn't a thoughtful or kind man, she immediately became suspicious.

"Why?"

"Because I chose you."

"I chose you, remember?"

"You like to argue with me, don't you?"

She didn't believe his question merited an answer. "Will I like your home?"

"Of course."

"I can't wait to see it. Is it as appealing as Alec's home? I won't be disappointed if it isn't," she hastened to add. "I don't need it to be grand. Is it?"

Her enthusiasm made him smile. "Yes, it's just as appealing as my brother's home."

"You're proud of it, aren't you? I can hear it in your voice."

"I suppose I am."

"Is the hall as large as Alec's? I won't mind if it isn't."

"Because you don't need it to be as large."

"Yes."

"I cannot say for certain if it's as large. I've never taken the time to notice."

"What makes your home so appealing?"

"It's secure."

What did secure have to do with appearance? "But what does it look like?"

"Invincible," he answered.

She wasn't getting anywhere with him. She would have to wait and see for herself, she decided.

He thought he'd told her everything she needed to know. Although he felt his home was invincible, there was still work to be done on the wall. He was going to reinforce the wood with stone as his brother had suggested, and add yet another platform on the northern peak.

Brenna's excitement mounted as they rode along, and her mood was so improved, she couldn't stop smiling.

Connor's mood darkened as soon as the ruins of his father's home came into view.

"Who lived here?" she whispered as she stared at the charred remains of the vast structure.

"My father."

"Did he die there?"

"Yes."

"Did you live there with him?"

"Yes."

The coldness in his voice told her he didn't want to be questioned about his past. She had every intention of finding out everything she could about her husband so she would be able to understand how he had become such a hard, rigid man, but she knew she would have to be patient and undemanding, or he would never open his heart to her. She would first prove to him that she could be trusted, and eventually he would soften his attitude and begin to confide in her.

She couldn't stop staring at the destruction. Even after they had ridden past, she leaned into Connor's side so she could look behind him to study it.

She had seen the results of fire before, but there was something puzzling about the MacAlister ruin. It took her several minutes before she finally figured out what was missing. The burned crofter's cottage she'd once seen had quickly been overgrown by weeds. This ruin wasn't. There was a forest on three sides of it, yet not one vine had reached the hollowed-out remains. Obviously it had been carefully maintained, and perhaps that was why it seemed so eerie to her.

Why hadn't Connor ordered it torn down? Had he left it to be a reminder to himself and his followers? Patience, she reminded herself. In time she would have her answers.

She straightened up and turned around again. She slipped her hand into his free one, leaned back against him, and said a prayer for his father's soul. She added another one for his dear mother.

Her new home came into view a minute later. She started praying for herself then. She closed her eyes too, frantically hoping that what she believed she'd seen she really hadn't seen at all, but when she gathered enough courage to look again, the monstrous thing was still there, looming over her from the top of a hill like an angry gargoyle.

God really must have been furious with her to have put her in such an ugly place. She must have caused her parents far more worry than she'd ever realized, and saying that she was sorry hadn't been enough to appease him.

Get hold of yourself, she ordered. God wasn't responsible for this fortress; Connor was.

She took a deep breath and told herself to find something nice about her new home. She would study the fortress from bottom to top, and when she was finished, by God, she would be smiling with excitement.

It was gigantic. That was nice, wasn't it? It was, if bigger was indeed better, as Connor obviously believed.

It was also tall. The fortress was at least three-stories high, perhaps even four, though it was difficult to tell because she couldn't seem to find any windows to give her hints.

Still, it was big. And tall.

She finally spotted the windows. Relieved to see them, she felt like weeping with gratitude. She wasn't going to have to live inside a tomb after all. The windows were there all right, but they'd been covered with an ugly brown fabric, which actually matched the color of dried mud rather nicely; though why in God's name anyone would want them to was beyond her. She would take them down as soon as possible, and then it wouldn't look so bad, would it?