Johanna had run out of chores, and so she tried to think about other mundane things, for she believed that if she could block her fear, it would eventually go away.
"Gabriel's right," she whispered. "England is a world away from here."
I'm safe, she thought to herself, and Nicholas and Mama will continue to be safe in England as long as I remain silent.
Johanna put her brush down and made the sign of the cross. She prayed for courage first and divine guidance next, and last of all she said a prayer for the man who should have been king. She prayed for Arthur.
Gabriel came into the room just as she was finishing her petitions. He found his wife sitting on the side of the bed staring at the flames in the fireplace. He bolted the door, pulled off his boots, and then walked over to the opposite side of the bed. She stood up and turned around to face him.
She looked so damned sad to him.
"Nicholas told me King John is afraid of you."
She turned her gaze to the floor. "Where did he get that notion?"
"Johanna?"
She looked up at him. "Yes?"
"Eventually you will tell me what you know. I won't demand. I'll wait. When you're ready to confide in me, you will."
"Tell you what, m'lord?"
He let out a sigh. "You'll tell me what's scaring the hell out of you."
She thought about protesting, then changed her mind. She didn't want to lie to Gabriel.
"We are married now," she said. "And it isn't just your duty to protect me, Gabriel. It is also my duty to keep you safe whenever I can."
He didn't know what she meant by the outrageous remark. Keep him safe? Hell, she had it all backward in her mind. He was supposed to protect her and watch his own back. He would make certain he stayed alive long years so he could take care of her and Alex.
"Wives do not protect their husbands," he decided aloud.
"This wife does," she countered.
He was about to argue with her, but she turned his attention. She didn't say a word. She simply untied the belt to her robe and took the garment off. She wasn't wearing anything underneath.
His breath caught in the back of his throat. Dear God, she was beautiful. The firelight behind her cast a golden glow to her skin. There wasn't a single flaw to mar her appeal. Her breasts were full, her waist was narrow, and her legs were long.
Gabriel didn't remember taking his clothes off. He held her stare for long, silent minutes, until his heart was slamming inside his chest and his breathing was harsh with his arousal.
Johanna fought her embarrassment. She knew she was blushing because she could feel the heat in her face.
They both reached for the covers at the same time. Then they reached for each other. Johanna was still on her knees when Gabriel pulled her into his arms. He rolled her onto her back, covered her with his body, and kissed her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. She was desperate for his touch. She wanted him tonight. She needed his comfort and his acceptance.
He needed satisfaction. His hands roughly caressed her shoulders, her back, her thighs. The feel of her silky skin inflamed him.
Johanna didn't need to be coaxed into responding. She couldn't stop stroking him. His body was so hard, his skin so wonderfully hot, and the way he made love to her with his mouth and hands aroused her to a fevered state in bare minutes.
It wasn't possible to be inhibited with Gabriel. He was a demanding lover, rough and gentle at the same time. He stroked the fires inside her with his intimate caresses, and when his fingers penetrated her and his thumb rubbed against the most sensitive nub hidden beneath her sleak folds, she became wild.
He took her hand and put it on his hard arousal. She squeezed him; he growled low in his throat. He whispered erotic praise and instructions of how he wanted her to caress him.
Gabriel couldn't stand the sweet agony for very long. He roughly pulled her hands away from him, lifted her thighs, and thrust deep inside her. She cried out with pleasure. Her nails raked his shoulders, and she arched up against him to take more of him inside. He almost spilled his seed then and there. It took every ounce of discipline he possessed to hold back. His hand moved down between their joined bodies, and he stroked her with his fingers until she found her fulfillment. Then he allowed his own.
His orgasm consumed him. He groaned with raw pleasure as he poured his hot seed into her. She kept calling his name, and he called God's.
Gabriel collapsed on top of his wife with a loud, satisfied grunt. He stayed inside her, unwilling to let go of the bliss he'd just experienced.
Johanna didn't want to let go of her husband just yet. She felt cherished when she was being held by him. She felt safe too… and almost loved.
His weight soon became crushing. She finally had to ask him to move so she could draw a proper breath.
He didn't know if he had enough strength. That thought amused him. He rolled to his side, taking her with him, then pulled the covers up and closed his eyes.
"Gabriel?"
He didn't answer her. She poked him in the chest to gain his attention. He grunted in response.
"You were right. I am weak."
She waited to hear his agreement. He said nothing. "A northern wind could probably blow me over," she said, repeating the words he'd spoken on their first night as man and wife.
He remained silent. "I might even be a little timid."
Several minutes passed before she spoke again. "But the other things, they aren't true. I won't let them be true."
She closed her eyes and said her prayers. Gabriel thought she'd fallen asleep. He was about to do the same. Then her voice, whisper-soft, yet filled with conviction, reached him.
"I'm not a coward."
Chapter 8
"Who dared to call you a coward?"
Johanna was jarred out of a sound sleep by her husband's booming voice. She opened her eyes and looked at him. Gabriel was standing at the side of the bed, glaring down at her. He was fully dressed and looked furious.
He needed to be appeased, she decided with a yawn. She sat up in bed and shook her head at him. "No one called me a coward," she told him in a sleepy voice.
"Then why did you say…"
"I thought you needed to know," she explained. "And I needed to say the words."
He lost the edge of his anger. She tossed the covers back and started to get out of bed. Gabriel stopped her by pulling the covers up and ordering her to go back to sleep.
"You will rest today," he commanded.
"I have rested long enough, m'lord. It's time for me to begin my duties as your wife."
"Rest."
Lord, he was stubborn. The set of his jaw told her it would be pointless to argue with him. She didn't have any intention of lounging in bed all day, but she wasn't going to debate the issue with her husband.
He turned to leave. She stopped him with her question.
"What are your plans for this fine day?"
"I'm going hunting for more supplies."
"Like grain?" she asked. She got out of bed and reached for her robe.
"Like grain," Gabriel agreed.
Johanna put her robe on and tied the belt at her waist. He watched her lift her hair from underneath the collar. The action was feminine and graceful.
"How does one hunt for crops?"
"We steal them."
She let out a loud gasp. "But that's a sin," she blurted out.
Gabriel was vastly amused by the look of horror on his wife's face. Stealing seemed to upset her. He couldn't imagine why.
"If Father MacKechnie gets wind of this, he'll have your hide."
"MacKechnie's not back yet. By then all my sins will have been committed."
"You cannot be serious."
"I'm most serious, Johanna."
"Gabriel, you aren't just committing the sin of theft," she instructed. "You're also committing the sin of contemplation.''
She looked like she expected some sor
t of answer. He shrugged. She shook her head at him.
"It isn't your place to censure me, wife."
He expected an apology. He got a contradiction instead. "Oh, yes, it is my place to censure you, m'lord, when the topic is your soul. It is my place to instruct you, sir, for I am your wife, and I, therefore, must worry about your soul."
"That's ridiculous," he countered.
She gasped again. He almost laughed but stopped himself in time. "You think it ridiculous that I worry about you?"
"Do you?"
"Yes, of course."
"Then you are beginning to have affection for me?"
"I didn't say that, m'lord. You turn my words on me. I worry about your soul."
"I do not need your worry or your lectures."
"A wife is allowed to give her opinions, is she not?"
"Yes," he agreed. "When asked for her opinions, of course."
She ignored his qualification. "It is my opinion that you should barter for what you need."
He couldn't control his exasperation. "We don't have anything of value to trade," he told her. "Besides, if the other clans can't protect what they own, they deserve to have their supplies taken. It's our way, wife. You'll get used to it."
He was finished discussing the topic. She wasn't. "Such justification…"
"Rest," Gabriel ordered as he pulled the door closed behind him.
She was married to a stubborn man. Johanna decided not to bring up the topic of stealing again. Gabriel was right. It wasn't her place to instruct him or any of the other clansmen. If they all wanted to spend their eternities in hell, so be it. What did she care?
Johanna spent the morning practicing with her bow and arrows and spent the afternoon playing Auggie's senseless, yet vastly enjoyable, game.
Auggie had become her only real friend. He spoke only Gaelic to her, and she found the more relaxed she was, the less difficult the language became. The older man was patient and understanding with her and answered every question she put to him.
She told him how upsetting she found Gabriel's thievery. Auggie wasn't sympathetic and, in fact, championed his laird's cunning.
They were standing on the ridge, striking long shots while they discussed her worry. Most of the stones shattered from the force of the blow.
"The English destroyed our reserves. Our laird will make certain the clan doesn't go hungry this winter," he announced. "How can you call that a sin, lass?"
"He's stealing," she countered.
Auggie shook his head. "God will understand."
"There's more than one way into a castle, Auggie. Gabriel should find another way to feed the clan."
The old man positioned his staff against the round stone, braced his legs apart, and gave a swing. He squinted against the sunlight to see how far he'd hit the stone, nodded with satisfaction, and turned back to his mistress.
"My stone traveled thrice the distance of an arrow. Beat that one, little worrier. See if you can't put your stone right next to mine."
Johanna turned her attention to the game. She surprised a whoop of laughter out of Auggie when she matched his distance. Her stone came to rest just inches away from his.
"You've a knack for the game, lass," Auggie praised. "We'd best go back now. I've kept you from your duties longer than I had a right."
"I don't have duties," she blurted out. She tucked her staff under her arm and turned to her friend. "I've tried to take over the running of the household, but no one listens to me. The MacBains are more polite though. They smile while I instruct them, then go about their business without paying any heed to what I've said. The Maclaurin servants are far more rude, embarrassingly so. They completely ignore me."
"What does our laird have to say about this behavior?"
"I haven't told him. I'm not going to either, Auggie. This is my dilemma to solve, not his."
Auggie took hold of Johanna's arm and started down the steep hill. "You've been here how long now?"
"Almost twelve weeks."
"You were content for a time, weren't you now?"
She nodded. "I was content."
"Why?"
She was surprised by his question. She shrugged. "Coming here made me… free. And safe," she hastily added.
"You were like a dove with a broken wing," Auggie said. He patted her hand before continuing. "And as timid as I've ever seen."
"I'm not timid now," she countered. "At least not when I'm with you."
"I've seen the changes in you. The others haven't. In time I imagine they will notice you've got a bit of gumption."
She didn't know if she'd just been given a setdown or praise. "But the stealing, Auggie. What should I do about my husband?"
"Leave it be for now," he suggested. " 'Tis the truth I can't get riled up about a little thieving. My laird promised to bring me barley, and I'm anxious to have it, sin or not. It's for the making of my brew," he added with a nod. "The English drank all of my reserves, lass." He snorted with laughter, leaned closer to her side, and whispered, "They didn't get to the barrels of liquid gold though."
"What are barrels of liquid gold?"
"Do you remember the break in the pines beyond the ridge?"
"Yes."
"There's a cave directly behind," he announced. "It's full of oak barrels."
"But what's inside the barrels?"
"The water of life," he answered. "Brew as old as ten, even fifteen, years now. It should be tasting like gold I'll wager. One of these days I'll take you there to have a look for yourself. The only reason it's stayed untouched is because the English didn't know it was there for the taking."
"Does my husband know about the cave?"
Auggie thought about the question a long while before answering. "I don't recall telling him," he admitted. "And I'm the only one who remembers when the old Maclaurin chieftains stored the barrels there. They weren't telling, of course, but I followed them one afternoon without their knowing. I can be quiet when I set my mind to the task," he added with a nod.
"When did you last go inside the cave?"
"A few years back," Auggie told her. "Do you notice, Johanna, that when you wear the MacBain plaid you play a fair game, but when you're wearing the Maclaurin colors, you can't hit a thing?"
He was talking nonsense, of course. He liked to tease her. She thought it was just his way of showing affection.
As soon as they reached the courtyard, Auggie took off down the hill. She spotted Keith, bowed to him, and then hurried past. She'd felt uncomfortable around the Maclaurin soldier ever since he'd explained the real meaning behind the nickname the Maclaurin women had given her.
She also wanted to wash her hands before her husband came home and noticed how dirty they were. He could be very unreasonable about her appearance; but since he demanded little enough from her, she tried to please him whenever possible.
Johanna was just starting up the steps to her home when a shout sounded behind her. She turned and saw soldiers running toward her. Several had their swords drawn.
She didn't know what all the fuss was about. "Get inside, m'lady. Pull the door closed behind you." Keith shouted his instruction. Johanna wasn't going to argue with the soldier or question him now. She assumed they were under attack by intruders and hurried to do as she was ordered.
Then she heard the low, menacing growl. She turned around again. She spotted her husband's pet slowly making his way across the courtyard. She cried out at the sight of the beast. Dumfries was covered with blood. From the distance she could see his left hindquarter had been ripped to shreds.
The hound was trying to come home to die. Johanna's eyes filled with tears as she watched Dumfries struggle.
The soldiers made a wide circle around the dog. "Go inside, Lady Johanna." Keith bellowed his order. She suddenly understood what they meant to do. They were going to kill the wolfhound to put him out of his misery. The way they warily moved toward the hound told her they believed he might turn on one of them.
&n
bsp; Johanna wasn't about to let any more harm come to the dog. One soldier started to move forward with his sword raised to strike.
"Leave him alone."
The fury in her shout gained every soldier's attention. They turned to look at her, their surprise most evident in their gaping expressions.
A few of the Maclaurin soldiers actually backed away from the dog. The MacBain warriors didn't move from their positions, however.
Keith rushed up the steps. He grabbed hold of Johanna's arm. "You needn't witness this," he announced. "Please go inside."
She jerked her arm away from the soldier's hold. "Dumfries wants to come inside. He sleeps by the fire. That's where he's going. Hold the doors open, Keith. Do it now."
She shouted the last of her command before turning back to the other soldiers. She didn't believe Dumfries would allow any of the men to assist him. She knew the dog must be in terrible pain, for his gait faltered again and again as he slowly made his way over to the steps.
"M'lady, at least get out of his range."
"Tell the men to let him come inside."
"But m'lady…"
"Do as I've ordered," she commanded. "If anyone touches Dumfries, he'll answer to me."
The tone of her voice told Keith it was pointless to argue with her. He gave the command, then grabbed his mistress's arm again and tried to drag her back through the entrance.
"The doors, Keith. Keep them open."
Johanna didn't take her gaze off the dog when she gave the order. Leila and Megan, the two Maclaurin women assigned the duty of cleaning the great hall and the chambers above, came running to the doorway.
"Dear God," Megan whispered. "What happened to him?"
"Get back, m'lady," Leila cried out. "Poor Dumfries. He can't make it up the steps. They'll have to kill him…"
"No one's touching him," Johanna snapped. "Megan, fetch my needle and threads. Leila, there's a satchel under my bed filled with jars of herbs and medicines. Get it for me."