Her disappointment was softened by the recollection that she was only going to resort to such a drastic measure if Raen ever came near her again. Thankfully, she had a plan to keep him at bay.

Quinlan couldn't understand why his mistress looked so disheartened. "Did you wish to hold such a position of strength, mi'lady?"

She didn't answer him and, in fact, didn't say another word for a long while.

"If you have a problem and you cannot solve it on your own, then tell me what it is and I will be happy to take care of it."

She shook her head. "The problem is of a personal nature involving a family member."

Quinlan was relieved, and though he felt like smiling, he didn't, for fear he would injure her feelings and make her think her problem wasn't important to him.

"You're having difficulty with Euphemia, aren't you?" He didn't give her time to answer him but continued on with a suggestion he was certain would solve her worry. "It would be appropriate for you to speak to Raen about his mother. I'm certain he'll talk to her."

She shook her head again, though far more vehemently. "I should be able to solve this problem, and when Connor returns, I'll discuss it with him."

"As you wish, mi'lady."

She changed the subject then. "You know that ever since I arrived, I've been trying to understand how things are done here. There seems to be a set of regulations everyone else understands but me. I constantly fear I'll offend someone because of my lack of education about Highlanders, and I could certainly benefit from your instruction."

"I'll be happy to help in any way that I can."

"Will you and two others you select join me for the evening meal tonight? We could continue our discussion then, and I could learn about the MacAlisters. I'm one of you now and do want to fit in."

"I would be honored to join you at the table, and I'm certain the other two I choose will feel the same way."

And I'll be relieved, she thought to herself.

"I don't want to show any favoritism, however, and so, each night that Connor is away, if you would please select two other guests, then I could also become acquainted with some of my husband's followers."

"Certainly," he answered.

"When will Connor be home?"

"I cannot say for certain."

"It seems he's been away a long time. I need to talk to him."

He heard the desperation in her voice and decided then that Connor's stepmother must be giving her a very difficult time. He imagined the two women were involved in a minor power struggle and was somewhat surprised that Lady Brenna could become upset so easily. Perhaps her loneliness for her husband was making her anxious. She might even feel as though he had abandoned her. Connor had all but snatched her out of one life and put her down in the center of his.

Time was all his mistress needed to find her way. At least that was what Quinlan hoped would happen. Later that day, however, he began to think the problem was more serious than he'd first estimated. Netta caught him on his way up to the soldiers' quarters to tell him Lady Brenna was acting peculiar.

"She didn't hear me knock on her bedroom door, and when I entered, she let out a scream and jumped a foot. 'Tis the truth, she reached for her dagger. She looked terrified, Quinlan."

The cook's friend, Brocca, happened to overhear the conversation and quickly joined in. "Ada told me she's worried mi'lady might be ill. She isn't eating anything at all. It's too soon for her to be carrying a bairn," she added.

Quinlan knew there was a chance both women were exaggerating and decided to wait and see for himself. After observing his mistress push her food around on her trencher and barely eat a morsel, he realized they were right to be concerned. He decided he would take his mistress to see Lady Kincaid the following morning, believing that she would surely find out what was wrong, and if his mistress was really ill, then Lady Kincaid would know how to cure her.

Brenna had no idea Quinlan was so concerned about her. For the first time in several days, she felt much more relaxed. The two soldiers he had chosen to share the honor of dining at the table were older men, who took turns telling stories about the early days. Lady Euphemia was blissfully quiet. She seemed to enjoy the conversation, though. She looked as if she was hanging on every word, and every once in a while she would actually chuckle or nod when one of the guests related a humorous incident she apparently remembered.

Raen acted like an overindulged child who wasn't getting enough attention. He pouted all through the meal and kept his gaze directed on the table. He ate quickly, and when he was finished, he gave Brenna a hard scowl, slammed his goblet down, and went storming out of the hall.

None of the soldiers seemed at all bothered by Raen's insolence. Quinlan noticed how weary his mistress looked and decided to call a halt to the evening. A good night's rest might be all she needed to get her appetite back.

One of the older soldiers offered her his arm and escorted her up the steps. He stood at the landing until she entered her room. When she turned to call out her farewell at her door, she saw Raen lurking in the shadows behind the soldier's shoulder, but before she could demand to know what he was waiting for, he turned around and hurried into his chamber.

Netta was waiting for her inside the bedroom and called out her greeting before her mistress had even entered so that she wouldn't be startled again. Before Brenna could ask her why she was waiting for her, the servant explained Euphemia had ordered her to light the candles in the woman's bedroom each night and assist her in her preparation for bed, and if Netta was going to serve her laird's stepmother, she sure as certain was going to serve her laird's wife.

"Doesn't your husband mind waiting for you to come home?"

"It's an honor that I've been chosen to work in our laird's quarters. My Deverick is strutting around like a king, he is, telling everyone who will stop and listen how important he is because his wife has been give such a position in his laird's home."

Brenna felt blessed to have such a thoughtful woman serve her.

"You have a good heart, Netta."

"You'll turn my head with such praise, mi'lady. Would you like me to help you get ready for bed?"

"No, I'm safe now… I mean to say, I'm capable of taking care of myself. I do have a quick question to ask before you leave. I was wondering who would be able to make a wooden medallion for me."

"Alan's clever with his hands, and I think he's most qualified to do exactly what you're wanting. I'll be happy to take you to him tomorrow if you like."

Brenna thanked her once again, and as soon as Netta left, Brenna bolted the door. She worked on her sewing for another hour before she went to bed. She had just blown the candles out and pulled up her covers when she heard someone knocking on her door.

She didn't answer it.