Gavin knew what would happen if the bairn died on Kincaid land, however. After giving the pitiful infant one quick glance, he was convinced war was inevitable.

He commanded his troops to prepare for battle, sent two messengers to track Alec down, and then patiently waited for the McPhersons to attack.

The babe was fat and sassy four days later when the entire McPherson army came to demand the body for burial.

Gavin only allowed entrance to the laird and two others. With Marcus at his side, he waited on the steps of the castle.

Jamie had just put the baby to sleep on Alec's bed when she heard the shouts coming from the courtyard. She rushed outside to see what all the commotion was about, but came to a quick stop on the top step when she saw the three fierce-looking soldiers on horseback. She immediately knew they weren't Kincaid soldiers, as their dark plaid wasn't at all the same.

"I'll not leave without my dead," the burly man in the middle bellowed. "And when I come back, there'll be blood spattering your wails. Kincaid blood."

"Has someone died, Gavin?" Jamie asked.

The second-in-command answered her without turning around. Jamie thought he didn't want to take his gaze off the strangers. She certainly couldn't fault Gavin, for the strangers did look the type to strike a man down when his back was turned. "Laird McPherson has come to reclaim his son."

The anger in Gavin's voice startled Jamie. She caught the tension in the air, then realized the three strangers were all glaring at her. She straightened her shoulders in reaction to their rudeness.

"Is she the Kincaid's woman?" the man in the middle bellowed.

"She is," Gavin answered.

"Then she's the one who stole my son away."

Did the laird have to shout every word? Jamie couldn't believe this was the father of such a sweet-tempered babe. The chieftain was an old man, with bushy brows that hid most of his dark eyes. She guessed he smelled as rank as he looked, too.

Marcus turned around to look at Jamie. His face didn't show a hint of what he was thinking. "Go and get the bairn," he ordered.

"Be quick about it, woman."

Jamie had just started back into the castle when the laird shouted that order.

She stopped, then slowly turned around to face him again.

"I'll take my time," she said.

"I want my dead."

Her hearing was never going to be the same. The belligerent man was roaring like a wounded bear. Jamie tried to contain her temper. She told herself the man thought his son was dead, after all, and grief was robbing him of his manners.

Not a word was exchanged until Jamie came back outside. She carried the sleeping infant in her arms. The laird's son was completely covered by a thick woolen blanket to protect him from the biting wind.

The old laird's face showed no outward reaction. Jamie walked over to his side and pulled the cover away from the baby's face.

"Give him to me."

"You will quit your shouting this minute," she ordered in a low voice. "If you wake this child after all the trouble I had hilling him to sleep, there'll be hell to pay and you'll be the one paying it. Do I make myself clear?"

"Wake him up?"

"I just told you not to shout," Jamie reminded him in a near shout of her own.

She immediately regretted her outburst, for the infant opened his eyes and began to fidget in her arms. She paused to smile down at the child, then glared up at his father.

She missed the look of astonishment that crossed the laird's face when his little one moved.

"Now see what you've done? Your shouts have upset the baby," Jamie muttered. She moved the infant up against her shoulder and began to pat his back. The baby immediately let out a loud belch. "That's a good boy," she crooned after placing a quick kiss on the top of his bald head.

Her expression hardened when she turned back to the laird. "Why God blessed you with such a dear child I'll never understand. This little one has just had his noon feeding and if you get him riled, he's bound to throw up."

The chieftain didn't respond to her comments. Jamie reluctantly handed the infant to his father. She noticed the man's hands shook when he took hold of his baby. "I have instructions to give you before you leave," she told him.

The old warrior didn't say a word for a long while. He squinted down at his son while he tried to regain his control. He couldn't show any joy now, for to do so would certainly soften his position in front of the Kincaids, yet it was a nearly impossible feat that made his eyes bulge. The bairn let out another lusty belch in the sudden stillness, then smiled sweetly over his feat, as if he knew of his father's struggles and was deliberately testing his endurance.

"He ain't dead."

"You'll scream him to death if you keep up your shouts," Jamie announced. "Now pray give me your attention, sir. You will tell your wife to feed your son only goat's milk."

"I will not."

Jamie reacted as though she'd just been hit by lightning. Before the laird could react, she snatched the baby out of his arms, settled him back against her bosom, and began to pace alongside the laird's horse. "Then you can just go home without your son, McPherson. I won't let you kill him with your ignorance. Come back when he's old enough to fend for himself."

The laird's beady eyes widened in astonishment. He glanced over to Gavin, then back to Lady Kincaid. "Give him to me."

"You'll give me your promise to feed him only goat's milk first."

"He'll be getting his mama's milk, woman."

"He doesn't like his mama's milk."

"Have you just insulted my wife?"

Jamie wished she had the strength to beat some sense into the old man. "I'm telling you what you have to do to keep this baby alive," she shouted. "He cannot stand another bout of sickness." She moved closer to the laird, until she was just an inch or so away from his knee, then said, "Promise me."

His abrupt nod pleased her. She handed the baby back to his father, then started toward Gavin and Marcus. "You're the most ungrateful man I've ever met," she muttered.

"Ungrateful?"

He was back to bellowing. Jamie whirled around, her hands on her hips, and gave the warrior a look meant to burn. "Aye, ungrateful," she shouted back. "You should be expressing your appreciation, McPherson, not shouting at me."

The laird's eyes turned to slits again. Jamie knew his pride was somehow injured, but she didn't have the faintest idea why. "I'll have your apology for taking my son out of my home," the man bellowed. "It's war we're speaking of if I don't get what I want."

"What you need is a good kick in your backside, you old goat," Jamie shouted back. "And that's what you're going to get if you don't show some respect around me."

"You took my bairn."

She couldn't believe the man's stupidity. His horse was just as obnoxious as his master was, too. As soon as the old man let up on the reins, the animal tried to take a bite out of Jamie's shoulder. McPherson didn't seem to want to control his mount any more than he did his temper.

"You'll apologize," he roared.

Jamie slapped his horse away before answering that challenge. "How dare you ask for my apology? I didn't take your son away and you know it. You can sit there until you rot, but you aren't getting an apology from me."

The baby started to wail, disrupting Jamie's concentration. "Oh, take your son home to his mama," she ordered. "And don't you dare come back on Kincaid land until you've learned some manners."

The chieftain looked as if he was itching to strike her. He deliberately let up on his reins, just to be contrary. The horse immediately tried to get a taste of Jamie's shoulder again. She hit the horse, harder.

McPherson let out a roar in reaction. "She hit me horse," he shouted. "You seen it, men. The Kincaid woman hit me horse. 'Tis one thing to insult a man's wife, but to strike his horse-"