'What would you consider an insult then?'
'Destroying a man's crops, killing good horses. Those are insults. Killing a soldier is a much more grievous matter. I think perhaps you place too much value on marriage. You think like a woman.'
'I would never have gone to such lengths.'
'I'm my father's son. I am also a practical man.'
He had told her the truth, God help her for asking him to, and she suddenly felt like weeping again.
She tried to be practical about it all and told herself it could have been worse. She couldn't imagine how, of course. She didn't like being used. No woman did. She didn't think he would understand how she felt, though.
'In future, I win learn now to become practical,' she whispered. Her voice shook, and she didn't say another word for a long while because she knew she would start crying. She thought she'd rather die than let him know the damage he'd done to her hopes and dreams. She wasn't going to let him hurt her again, and if being practical meant she must give up her feelings and her heart, then she would be more practical than he was.
It didn't take her long to realize how foolish she was being. She didn't want to live without love, and that meant she was going to have to make Connor change his attitude, and how would she ever be able to do that?
The task was disheartening and seemed to be as impossible as making it rain on a sunny day. She squeezed her eyes shut as soon as she realized how teary she was becoming and tried to concentrate on her night prayers in hopes the ritual would occupy her thoughts.
Connor sought to close his mind against the hurt he'd just caused her so that ridiculous thoughts of guilt wouldn't bother him. It wasn't until he'd told her a fragment of the full truth that he realized how cold it made him sound to a woman as emotional as Brenna. She couldn't possibly understand, and he wasn't about to explain further.
His hatred for MacNare was burning him hollow inside, and though he still hadn't found any evidence to make him culpable in Donald MacAlister's death, Connor still wanted to believe what his father had suspected, that MacNare and MacNare's father, along with their relatives, had been involved in the planning of the attack on his home. He was determined to find the proof before he killed all those he suspected of participating in the slaughter, even if it took him long years to find the truth. Until then, he would have to be content with insignificant attacks meant solely to keep them enraged.
Alec was making his duty more difficult, of course. His brother knew what Donald MacAlister had said before he died, and Alec had also tried to find proof of MacNare's treachery. When he could find nothing, he decided that the suspicion was groundless. Now he wanted the strikes against the MacNare clan to stop. Connor knew he would have to accommodate his brother, but only for a while, until Alec became reasonable again. Gaining revenge wouldn't be forgotten, and Connor's hatred wouldn't lessen, but intensify. He was, after all, his father's son.
'When did you make your decision to marry me?'
Her question jarred him back to the present. 'As soon as I heard MacNare was marrying one of Haynesworth's daughters.'
Would the insults never stop? 'Then you didn't even know that I was the one sent to MacNare? Dear God, you didn't know, did you? The proposals had nothing to do with your decision. The jest's on you, Connor. I wasn't supposed to marry MacNare, Rachel was. She's the pretty one,' she instinctively added.
'Why didn't she come?'
'The king found out and put a stop to it. He wanted Rachel to marry a baron he favored.'
'And so your father substituted you.'
'Yes.'
He was astonished by the way things were done in England and appalled that a father could treat his daughters with such casual disregard.
'When did you find out you were going to marry him, Brenna?'
'That isn't important.'
'Answer me.'
'The day I left. Father told me what I was expected to do, and I took my leave a few hours later. It was wrong for you to make me think my proposals were why you came for me.'
'It wasn't wrong. It will prove convenient though.'
'How?'
'My brother,' he answered. 'He will wish to hear my reasons for marrying you.'
'And you plan only to tell him I proposed? But…'
He interrupted her. 'My brother will ask you if you did propose.'
'And if I refuse to answer?'
The thought was laughable. No man, let alone a woman, had ever refused Kincaid and lived long enough to tell of it. 'You won't,' he assured her.
'You show me little compassion, Connor.'
'Did your father show compassion when he substituted one daughter for another? Admit it, Brenna. His behavior was sinful, not mine. We don't treat our daughters with such disrespect.'
'Father had his reasons. I'm certain they were very important.'
'Did your king grant his permission?'
'There wasn't time enough to gain his permission. I'm certain he will be pleased.'
'I'm just as certain he won't be pleased at all. Don't rail against me or plague me with more questions, wife. I am your husband and your laird now, and you would do well to remember that. I saved you from a bleak future with a demon.'
She was suddenly too furious with him to guard her words. 'You have succeeded with your plan. No one will want me now. The very least you can do is let me go back home.'
'Give me a son. Then you can go.'
He regretted his cruelty as soon as the words were out of his mouth, but he wouldn't take them back.
And he would never let her go.
Chapter 6
She disliked him intensely until noon the following day. Then she remembered her plan to be practical. She really should try to get along with the vile man, shouldn't she? Besides, she wasn't one to wallow in misery for long periods. There were far more exciting things to think about, although admittedly, when Connor had promised her she could go back home as soon as she gave him a son, she was so outraged, she didn't believe she would ever be able to forgive him. What kind of monster was he to think she could leave her child behind?
He wasn't a monster, however. He was a man, that was all. And a stubborn, thoroughly impractical, and ignorant one as well.
Sufficient time hadn't passed to heal what she considered a grievous injury, but by afternoon she could at least look at him with less hostility.
She believed she'd come a long way in a very short while. She wasn't having murderous thoughts about her husband any longer, and she was beginning to notice he wasn't completely heartless and unfeeling. He seemed to be as concerned about Gilly as she was. He slowed their pace so her mare would be able to keep up, riding by Brenna's side all the while, and every once in a while, he actually looked worried.
After they'd crossed a wide meadow carpeted in rich green clover and purple heather she thought was too lovely to tread upon, Connor slowed the pace to a walk. He called a halt a few minutes later, as soon as they reached the protection of the forest.
'Quinlan, take the others and ride ahead. Wait for us near the crest.'
Brenna noticed the surprise in Quinlan's expression. He looked as if he wanted to argue with his laird, but after giving Brenna what she could only interpret as a pitying glance, he rode on ahead.
She wasn't left guessing why Quinlan was feeling sorry for her. Connor waited until his men were gone, then forced her to look at him. She imagined she saw ice chips in his eyes, so furious did he appear to be.
