them to let them know they care about their feelings. My father did that very thing all the time, but now that I think about it, I must admit I'm not certain if he was offering my mother comfort or showing her affection.'
She lifted her shoulders in a dainty shrug. Trying to make him understand was turning out to be more complicated than she'd expected. She tried to think of another example to give him. 'Perhaps other husbands put their arms around their wives and…'
'Which do you prefer?'
'I beg your pardon?'
He repeated his question in a brisk, will-you-hurry-up tone of voice. 'Do you want me to pat you or put my arms around you?' He was hopeless. Comfort needed to come from the heart, and Connor needed to feel it before he showed it. She guessed it was also an acquired art, learned after years of being loved and cared for by family members. And if she weren't so rattled about what was going to happen to her tonight, she probably would be able to explain it all quite nicely.
She couldn't even remember her new name now. 'This isn't a lesson in sword fighting. You have to be sincere, spontaneous… and…'
She didn't continue because she couldn't think of anything else to say.
'You really don't have any idea what you're talking about, do you?'
She let out a long sigh. 'No, not really.'
He wasn't amused. 'Then why in God's name have we been standing here?'
'I didn't realize how impatient you were, and I… Now what are you doing?'
'Lifting your hair up from under the plaid.'
'Why?'
'I want to.'
'Do you always do what you want to do? You do, don't you?'
'You'd be flat on your back now if I always did what I wanted to do.'
She quit trying to push his hands away. There really didn't seem to be any reason for her to continue to argue with him anyway. Admittedly, she couldn't stop him from touching her-he was at least twice her size and strength, after all-but she protected the fragments of her pride by pretending she was in control of what was happening to her.
He made quick work of his task, and his hands were surprisingly gentle when he touched the sides of her neck. A shiver of pleasure raced down her back, and though it was a nice sensation, what was even more pleasing and surprising to her was that he corrected what bothered him instead of criticizing her. She had grown up constantly being told what was wrong with her-God only knew, something always did seem to be amiss-then being ordered to correct the flaw. She knew Connor wouldn't be any different. It was only a matter of time before he got the hang of it and fell into the same routine as her parents and brothers and sisters.
Connor wasn't going to wait any longer. He took hold of Brenna's hand and started walking toward the bed he'd prepared. He was a little surprised she didn't fight him now.
'I might as well warn you now that I'm rarely put together,' she suddenly blurted out.
'Your appearance doesn't matter to me.'
'It doesn't?'
'Of course not.'
She thought about that for a moment or two before realizing they were walking back toward camp.
'Where are we going?'
He heard the panic in her voice. God, he hated being patient. Were all virgins this impossible?
'What can I do to end this ridiculous fear of yours?'
'You could start by not snapping at me. It isn't ridiculous.'
'Answer me.'
'You could say something I might find… pleasant and hopeful about…'
'Mating?'
He thought of a thousand answers to give her, but all of them focused on how he would feel.
'Your hesitation worries me,' she whispered.
'It won't kill you.'
'It won't kill me? That's it?'
He smiled over the outrage in her voice. 'You'll like it. Eventually.'
She gave him a look that told him she didn't believe him. She kept walking though, and that was all he cared about at the moment.
'It's messy, isn't it?'
'No, it isn't.'
'I doubt I'll like it,' she whispered, for they were getting close to where his soldiers had bedded down for the night, and she didn't wish to be overheard. 'I do want children, though.'
'Exactly how did you plan to get them?'
She ignored the sarcasm in his voice. 'Do you want children?'
'Of course. Why do you think I married you?'
'I don't know why. You promised to explain it all after we were wed.'
'Later,' he promised.
'Any woman could give you children. Why did you choose me?'
They stopped talking and now faced each other in the center of the clearing. She looked around, saw the other soldiers feigning sleep on their blankets, and in the center of the circle of men was an empty bed, fashioned together with yet another plaid.
She was horrified. Did he really expect her to sleep there, in the middle of the others? Yes, of course he did, she realized. Honest to God, he really didn't have any idea about the needs of women, did he?
She couldn't make a scene. His men would hear her if she started ranting at their laird, and that would only embarrass her and make him angry.
What was she going to do? She wasn't about to let him touch her with his men pretending to sleep not five feet away. Yet how could she stop him? Connor didn't look as though he would be reasonable much longer. His stance was rigid, his frown intense, and now that she thought about it, hadn't he already given her enough time to calm her worries? He had wanted to comfort her, or at least had tried to give her what she wanted, and she couldn't even imagine any other man going to such lengths to accommodate her.
The truth made her smile. Good lord, he really had comforted her, and she hadn't even realized it. She sighed. Her husband wasn't such a bad sort, after all.
It wouldn't be right for her to argue with him now. No, she would be diplomatic instead. If she was clever enough, he might not even realize she was getting her way. She reached for his hand just as he was about to take off his boots, and bent down, picked up the blanket from the ground, and then whispered, 'Please come with me.'
'Now what's wrong?' he demanded in a near bellow.
'Brides always prepare the wedding bed. It's a tradition in England.'
She could tell he didn't believe her lie. She walked away before he could stop her, paused once at the edge of the clearing to give him what she hoped was a come-hither smile, and continued on.
Connor didn't move. He stood there with his legs braced apart and his hands on his hips, staring after her, his attention on the gentle sway of her hips as she moved. Then he started counting to ten. When he was finished, he was either going to let the impossible woman leave or go after her and make hard, passionate love to her.
'I've never heard of this tradition.'
Quinlan drawled out the remark. The soldier was sitting on the ground with his back against a tree trunk and his arms folded across his chest.
Connor turned his frustration on him. 'If you say another word, I swear I'll kill you.'
Quinlan ignored the warning. 'Don't you think you should go to bed before it's time to get up?'
Connor took a threatening step toward his friend. Quinlan immediately straightened up. 'She's only wanting privacy, Connor. That's why she's moving your blankets.'
'I realize that,' he said. He hadn't realized it, of course, but he wasn't about to admit it to his friend.
He walked away without saying another word and caught up with Brenna near the lake. He wasn't at all
