Anger gave her the strength of five men. She drove her elbow into his side and blessedly got just the reaction she wanted. He grunted in obvious pain and let go of her. She moved back against the door of her bedroom and reached for her dagger. She felt a second's panic when she touched her side and realized the knife wasn't in the pouch looped to her belt, but Raen wasn't looking at her now or trying to grab her again.

He opened the door for her, bid her good night, and strolled away. He was whistling as he went down the stairs.

Shaking with rage and terror, she ran inside, bolted the door closed behind her, and broke into sobs.

What in God's name was she going to do?

The possibility that he might try to touch her again terrified her. She slept on Connor's side of the bed that night and didn't go downstairs until later than customary the following morning. She was, however, much calmer, because she realized that Raen wouldn't dare do anything inappropriate in front of witnesses and as long as she was never alone with him, she would be safe until Connor came home.

The minute she saw her husband, she was going to tell him exactly what had happened, but until he returned and sent Raen away, it was her duty to look out for herself.

Connor should be the first to know. Raen was his stepbrother, and it wouldn't be right to tell anyone else, unless it became absolutely necessary. She wasn't about to suffer so much as an obscene look from the vile man however. If he came near her, she would banish him from the keep immediately, providing she had the power to do so, and if Quinlan told her she didn't have the authority, she would either tell him what had happened or pack her satchel and move in with the Kincaids. Alec had told her he would never deny her anything.

She walked around in a rage most of the afternoon, and at supper that evening, she ignored Raen and urged Euphemia to tell her all about herself. Connor's stepmother seemed to enjoy being the center of attention and spent over an hour complimenting herself. Brenna pretended to hang on every word. She wasn't about to leave the hall unless her stepmother was with her, which soon became apparent to Raen, because he finally went outside to stretch his legs.

He dared to ask Brenna if she would like to accompany him, in a mocking tone and with a sneer that told her he knew what her game was and found it amusing.

"No, thank you," she answered without bothering to look at him. "I would rather listen to your mother. Lady Euphemia, you've had such an interesting life."

"I've had a tragic life," Euphemia corrected.

With Brenna's encouragement, she then proceeded to tell her all about the pain she had endured over the loss of her dear parents. No one had ever suffered the way Euphemia had, and no one had ever had so many crushing disappointments.

Euphemia didn't stop talking about herself for another hour or so. Brenna stayed by her side, pretending to be fascinated, and when, at last, she announced she was going up to bed, Brenna took hold of her arm and walked by her side.

"I meant to talk to you about the evening meals, madam."

"I meant to have a word with you too. Once again, I was disappointed, Brenna. Didn't you follow my instructions and get rid of the cook?"

"Yes, of course I did," Brenna lied. "I've come up with a plan I hope you'll approve. You are far more knowledgeable than I, and I could use your counsel."

"Don't berate yourself. You don't know any better."

Brenna didn't argue, but she didn't agree either. "I have asked five women to take turns preparing your evening meals, and I will let you decide at the end of the week who is the best skilled to suit your needs."

Euphemia shrugged with indifference. "Leave it to me."

"Thank you, madam."

Managing to get to her bedroom without offending the woman, Brenna leaned against the door and let out a loud sigh.

Netta stood at the hearth, warming herself in front of the fire. "Did Lady Euphemia go along with your plan to try five different cooks?"

Brenna smiled. "Yes, she did. Be sure to remind Ada she mustn't let Euphemia see her until the end of the week."

"She knows, mi'lady, and she's most appreciative of your efforts. She's worried though that Lady Euphemia will know she prepared all the meals through the week. Are you sure you wouldn't rather have someone else…"

"I'm certain," Brenna replied. "Ada's a fine cook. Our laird's stepmother likes to be difficult. I've decided we aren't being disloyal to our laird with our trickery," she added. "We're simply trying to make his relatives happy, that's all."

"None of us feel tricking Lady Euphemia is disloyal. Do you have any idea how long she and her son plan to stay?"

"No, but I assure you, that will be the first question I ask my husband."

"Is there something else bothering you? I noticed you barely touched your food tonight, and when you came inside the room a moment ago, your face was terribly pale."

Brenna wasn't about to tell her about Raen, believing it was up to her, not a servant, to solve this problem. To condemn the laird's stepbrother would have severe ramifications, she imagined; God only knew, she would have been sickened if one of her own brothers' wives cried out against another brother. As Connor's wife, it was her dreaded duty to tell him, no one else.

"I wasn't very hungry tonight," she said in answer to Netta's question.

The servant left a few minutes later. After bolting the door, Brenna sat down on the bed and worked on her sewing. Ada had given her a bright saffron-colored cloth to put on the table, and Brenna was trying to embroider the colors of Connor's plaid into a square in the center of the material. Because she wanted it to be perfect, she labored well into the night, making certain each one of the stitches was straight, and if she kept to her schedule, she would be finished in just a few more days.

She didn't plan to put it on the table until she had sewn into squares the plaids she'd cut and stuffed with sheep's wool, which meant she would have to sew at least one hour every morning, but if the weather proved accommodating, she meant to sit outside with the other women and get to know them at the same time.

She wasn't going to sit about all day long though, especially when the sun was out, and so she decided to allow one hour each afternoon to go riding. Learning how to ride bareback intrigued her, and as Connor's wife, shouldn't she know how?

Besides, how difficult could it be?

She almost killed herself-several times as a matter of fact-and all in the first afternoon she tried to ride bareback.

Davis swore to Quinlan that he never would have allowed his mistress to even look at their laird's stallion if he had known what she intended to do. She hadn't understood why her husband would leave the horse behind, and Davis was happy to explain that the stallion needed to rest and feed because he'd been ridden so hard. She suggested the beast needed a little pampering as well, and Davis hadn't disagreed with her.

When she asked him if she could take the stallion out for a little stroll, he made her give him every assurance she meant only to walk the black up the hill and back so he could get a little exercise and attention. The stallion had obviously taken to her. Why, the way he let her lead him to the stables on the very first day of her arrival proved he had accepted her, and hadn't her skill handling the horse been apparent to just about everyone?

Watching the docile way the animal pranced up the hill at her side had assured Davis he had made the right decision. His suspicions surely would have been aroused if Lady Brenna had asked him for a saddle, but she hadn't asked, now had she?