They were both shaken when he finally called a halt to the lovemaking. His breathing was labored. So was hers.
'You make me forget myself, m'lord.'
He took that as a compliment. He lifted her off his lap, then stood up. Johanna was still rattled. Her face was flushed, and her hands trembled when she smoothed the hair back into her braid. He watched her try to right her appearance with vast amusement.
Women flustered easily, he decided. This one quicker than most.
'My hair's a sight,' she stammered out when she caught his smile. 'I've a mind to cut it… with your permission, of course.'
'What you do with your hair is no concern to me. You don't need my permission. I have more important matters to think about.'
He softened his rebuke with a quick kiss. Then he bent down, picked up the stone she wanted to give to Auggie, and handed it to her. He had to put the pebble in her hand. Aye, she was flustered all right, and damn, that fact pleased him. He winked at his wife and turned to walk back up the hill.
Johanna straightened the pleats of her plaid and then hurried to catch up with him.
She couldn't quit smiling. He knew his kisses had made mush out of her mind, she decided, because the look on his face was one of pure male satisfaction. She didn't mind his arrogance though.
Everything was going to be all right. Johanna did a lot of sighing on the way back up the hill. Yes, she thought to herself, she had made the right decision when she'd agreed to marry Gabriel.
Johanna was in such high spirits she barely minded Dumfries's bluster of growls each time she moved closer to Gabriel's side. Even the mighty beast wasn't going to ruin her good mood.
She brushed her hand against her husband's. He didn't take the hint. She nudged him again, and still he didn't catch on. She gave up trying to be subtle and took hold of his hand.
He acted as though she wasn't even there. His gaze was directed on the top of the hill, and she assumed his mind was already turned to thoughts of duties ahead. She didn't mind his inattention; and when they reached the cluster of workmen's huts, she pulled her hand away. She didn't think he would want to show affection in front of the clan. Gabriel surprised her by grabbing hold of her hand again. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze, then increased his stride until she was once again running to keep up.
Lord, she was happy. Aye, she'd done the right thing. She'd married a good-hearted man.
Chapter 7
'Twas the truth she was married to a gargoyle.
Johanna came to this depressing conclusion after living with her husband for three long months. Gabriel was downright mean-hearted. He was outrageously stubborn, horribly set in his ways, and completely unreasonable with his orders. Those were his better qualities. He treated her like an invalid. She wasn't allowed to lift a finger, was waited on hand and foot, and was always followed around by one of his men. She put up with the nonsense for a good two months before her irritation got the better of her. She did protest then, but to no avail. Gabriel wouldn't listen. His ideas about marriage were most bizarre. He wanted her protected under lock and key, and God's truth, whenever she went outside for a breath of fresh air, he tried to chase her back inside.
Dinners were insufferable. She was expected to maintain her dignity throughout the meal, while chaos ruled around her. None of the men she dined with had any manners. They were loud, rude, and made horrid, disgusting noises.
And those were their better qualities. Johanna didn't criticize the soldiers. She felt it would be better if she continued to maintain her separation from the clan whenever possible. In her mind, uninvolvement meant peace, and that was the one goal she longed to gain.
Since Gabriel still wouldn't let her go hunting, she spent most of the daylight hours alone. Her husband believed she was too fragile for the strenuous exercise of lifting a bow and arrow, she supposed, and how in God's name did one debate that ludicrous opinion? To keep her skill from becoming rusty, she fashioned a target on a tree trunk at the base of the hill and practiced there with her bow and arrows. She really was quite good with the weapon and was proud to boast she'd actually bested Nicholas a time or two in target games.
No one bothered her while she was at her task. The women ignored her most of the time. The Maclaurins were openly hostile. Several young women followed the example set by their unspoken leader, a tall, robust woman with ruddy cheeks and white-blond hair named Glynis. She did a lot of unladylike snorting whenever Johanna walked past. Johanna didn't believe Glynis was an evil woman, though. She just didn't have any use for her mistress. If her guess was true, Johanna decided she couldn't fault the woman. While Glynis was working from early morning until nightfall in the fields beyond the line of trees with the other women, tending the fertile fields and nurturing their crops, Johanna was leisurely strolling around the holding, giving the appearance, she was sure, of a lazy queen of the manor.
No, Johanna didn't blame the women for resenting her. Gabriel was in part responsible for their opinion of her because he wouldn't allow her to interact with any of them, but Johanna was honest enough with herself to acknowledge she'd allowed the separation and hadn't done anything to change the women's opinions of her. She hadn't tried to be friendly with any of them, following old habits without taking the time to question her own motives.
She hadn't had any close friends in England because her husband wouldn't have allowed it. Everything was different in the Highlands, she reminded herself. The clan wasn't going to vanish or move away.
After three months of solitude, she had to admit that, though her life was peaceful, it was also lonely and boring. She wanted to fit in. Just as important, she wanted to help rebuild what her first husband had destroyed. Gabriel was too busy with the reorganization to worry about her problems. She wasn't about to complain to her husband anyway. The problem was hers to solve.
Once Johanna named the dilemma, she set about solving it. She no longer wanted to separate herself from the clan and tried to join in whenever possible. She was shy by nature, almost painfully so, but she still forced herself to call a greeting whenever she spotted one of the women hurrying by. The MacBains always responded with a smile or a kind word; most of the Maclaurins pretended they hadn't heard her. There were some exceptions, of course. Leila and Megan, the two Maclaurin women who'd assisted with her bath on her wedding night, seemed to like her, but the others refused her every offer of friendship.
She was confused by their attitude. She didn't know what she could do to change their minds about her. On Tuesday, when Keith was assigned the duty of looking out for her, she put the question to him.
'I would like your opinion, Keith, on a matter worrying me. I can't seem to find a way to gain acceptance from the Maclaurin women. Do you have a suggestion to offer?'
Keith scratched his jaw while he listened to her. He could tell she was upset by his clan's behavior toward her, yet hesitated to explain the reason because he knew he would hurt her feelings. After several days spent protecting her, his own attitude had softened. She was still somewhat timid, but she certainly wasn't a coward as some of the Maclaurin women believed.
Johanna noticed his hesitation. She thought he didn't want to talk about the problem because they were within hearing distance of some of his clansmen.
'Will you walk with me up the hill?'
'Certainly, m'lady.'
Neither one said another word until they were well away from the courtyard. Keith finally broke the silence. 'The Highlanders have long memories, Lady Johanna. If a warrior goes to his death without avenging some slight, he still dies in peace because he knows that someday his son or grandson will right the wrong. The feuds are never forgotten, the sins never forgiven.'
She didn't have the faintest idea what he was talking about. He looked terribly earnest though. 'And not forgetting is important, Keith?'
'Aye, m'lady.'
