"It's not that simple, Brodick."

"You still getting pressured to marry one of the MacPhersons?"

"Meggan MacPherson," he countered. "And I am still considering it. It would solve a lot of problems, and I have to do my duty as laird. I want their land and resources, and I also want peace. It seems the only way to get that is to join the clans by marriage."

"What's this woman like?"

"Admirable," he replied. "She wants the best for her clan. She's strong and stubborn," he added. "But she doesn't have Bridgid's…"

"What?"

"Fire."

"When will you decide?"

"Soon," he replied. "Enough talk about me," he added as he turned the conversation to what he considered a much more serious matter. "Did Gillian give you the names of the Englishmen?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"I forgot to ask," he admitted sheepishly.

Incredulous, Ramsey stared at him for several seconds and then snapped, "How could you forget?"

"I was busy."

"Doing what?" Ramsey asked before he realized how foolish the question was. Now he sounded as naive as Bridgid.

Brodick glanced at him. "What the hell do you think I was doing?"

"What I wasn't," Ramsey replied drolly.

They walked along in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Brodick had always been able to tell his friend whatever was on his mind, but he was hesitant now as he asked his advice.

"Marriage changes a man, doesn't it?"

"You should ask Iain that question, not me. I've never been married."

"But you're more astute about these matters than I am, and Iain's not here."

"Matters of the heart?"

"Yes."

"You've only been married one day," Ramsey pointed out. "What is it you're worried about?"

"I'm not worried."

"Yes, you are. Tell me."

"I've just noticed…"

"What?" Ramsey asked in exasperation.

"I'm… cheerful, damn it."

Ramsey laughed. Brodick didn't appreciate his friend's reaction. "Look, forget I said anything. I'm not used to talking about such…"

"You never talk about what you're thinking or feeling. I shouldn't have laughed. Now tell me."

"I just did," he growled. "I mean it, I'm cheerful, God help me."

"That is unusual," he admitted.

"That's what I mean. I've been married one day and marriage is already changing me. Gillian confuses me. I knew I wanted her, but I didn't know I'd become so possessive."

"You were possessive of her before you married her."

"Yes, well, it's worse now."

"She's your wife. It's probably just a natural inclination."

"No, it's more than that. I want to take her home and-"

Ramsey cut him off. "You can't, not yet. She's got to help me find the bastard who tried to kill my brother."

"I know she needs to stay here, but I still want to take her home, and if I could, I swear I'd keep her under lock and key," he admitted, shaking his head over his own foolish thoughts.

"So she'd be safe."

"Yes, and also because I don't like other men…"

"Staring at her? She's a beautiful woman."

"I'm not the jealous sort."

"Sure you are."

"She's turned my mind upside down."

"You sound like a man in love with his wife."

"Lovesick men are weak men."

"Only if they were weak before they fell in love," Ramsey said. "Iain loves his wife. Would you consider him weak?"

"No, of course not."

"Then it stands to reason that love doesn't make a man less than what he already is."

"It makes him vulnerable."

"Perhaps it does," Ramsey agreed.

"And if his mind is constantly consumed with thoughts of her, then he becomes weak. Is that not so?"

Ramsey smiled. "I'll tell you what is so. You love her, Brodick, and that scares the hell out of you."

"I should have broken your nose."

"Get the names first; then you can try. Are you certain that she'll tell you who they are?"

"Of course she will. She's my wife, and she'll do whatever I tell her to do."

"I wouldn't use those exact words when you talk to her. Wives don't like being told what to do by their husbands."

"I know Gillian," he said. "She won't refuse me. I'll have the names of all the Englishmen by sundown."

Chapter Twenty-Six

No one was more surprised than Brodick when his sweet, she'll-do-whatever-I-tell-her-to-do wife refused to give him the names of the Englishmen.

Astounded that she would deny him, he was at a loss as to what to do next. Gillian sat at the table with her hands folded in her lap, as calm as could be in the eye of his storm.

"What do you mean, no?" he demanded.

"You forgot to kiss me when you came inside. I think you should."

"What?"

"You forgot to kiss me."

"For the love of…"

He hauled her to her feet, planted a hard kiss on her mouth, and then sat her back down again. "You're going to tell me who those bastards in England are."

"Yes," she agreed, and then qualified her answer. "Eventually."

"What does that mean?"

She refused to answer. She picked up her brush and ran it through her hair. Damn, she looked pretty tonight, he thought. She wore a flowing blue sleeping gown that delicately clung to her soft curves. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were bright, and she smelled like roses. The woman was nearly irresistible. He glanced at the bed, then back at her before he realized where his thoughts were leading.

It was already way past sunset, and he still hadn't gotten the names from her, though in truth, he hadn't seen her since he'd left at dawn, and he'd been too busy until this minute to think about it. Now, however, he was determined to get what he wanted before they went to bed, and with that thought in mind, he said, "A wife must do whatever her husband orders her to do."

The command didn't sit well with her. "This wife doesn't."

"Damn it, Gillian, don't turn stubborn on me."

"A husband doesn't curse in his wife's presence."

"This husband does," he snapped.

She didn't like hearing that either. Tossing her brush on the table, she got up and took the long way around him to get to the bed. Then she kicked her slippers off and sat down.

Ramsey had been right after all. Some wives really didn't like taking orders from their husbands, and Gillian obviously fit into that category. He noticed the tears brimming in her eyes and knew he'd injured her feelings. Marriage was far more difficult than he'd anticipated.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Cry."

"I wouldn't think of it," she haughtily replied. She stood up, pulled the covers back, and got into bed.

He blew out the candles and was going to bank the fire in the hearth when she asked him to please add another log. "It's hot in here."

"I'm cold."

"I'll keep you warm."

When he sat on the bed to take his boots off, she rolled to her side to face the wall. In a whisper, she asked, "Are you sorry you married me?"

The question caught him off guard. Gillian was obviously feeling a bit insecure, and he knew he was responsible because he'd been acting like a bear from the moment he'd joined her.

"It's too soon to tell," he told her with a straight face.

She didn't appreciate the humor. "Are you sorry?"

He put his hand on her hip and forced her to turn toward him. "I'm sorry you're so stubborn, but I'm happy I married you."

"You aren't acting happy."

"You defied me."

"And you aren't accustomed to anyone refusing you, are you?"

He shrugged. " 'Tis the truth I'm not."

"Brodick, when we are with others, I will never argue with you, but when we are alone, I will tell you exactly what's on my mind."

He thought about that for a moment and then nodded. "Did something happen tonight that's upset you? When I left you this morning, you were happy."

"When you left, I was sleeping."