“You do not give me commands, wife.”
“I cannot believe you take this opportunity to become surly, husband. I don’t have time to placate you today. I have important duties to see to,” she added. “I want Alex home. Do you want to shame me in front of my mama?”
She seemed appalled by that possibility. Gabriel let out a loud sigh. He barely remembered his own mother and therefore couldn’t imagine why Johanna would become so agitated over a visitation. It was obviously important that all go well, however.
And he did want his wife to be happy. He decided to tell her the true reason.
“Alex stays with his relatives until . . .”
“The wall’s taking forever,” she interrupted.
“There is another reason, wife.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t want him here until the Maclaurins and the MacBains have put their differences aside. I don’t want Alex to suffer any . . . slights.”
She’d been struggling to get away from his grasp until he gave her that explanation. Then she went completely still. Her expression was incredulous.
“Why would anyone slight Alex? He’s your son, isn’t he?”
“Probably.”
“You claim him. You can’t change your mind now. Alex believes you’re his father, Gabriel—”
He put his hand over her mouth to get her to cease her instructions to him. His smile was filled with tenderness, for it occurred to him that his gentle wife had never once considered denying Alex’s rightful place in their household. Hell, she was demanding fair treatment.
She deserved to understand his motives for keeping the boy away. Gabriel dragged her over to a chair. He sat down, then pulled her onto his lap.
She immediately turned timid. She wasn’t used to sitting on her husband’s lap. Anyone could walk in and see them together. She worried over that possibility for a moment or two, then pushed the concern aside. What did she care what others thought? Gabriel was her husband, after all. It was his right. Besides, she liked being held by him.
’Twas the truth she was beginning to like him more than she’d ever thought was possible.
“Quit daydreaming,” Gabriel ordered when he saw the look on her face. She did look as though she was dreaming as she stared off into space. “I want to explain something to you.”
“Yes, husband?”
She put her arm around his neck and began to stroke his skin. He told her to stop, but she ignored his command. He frowned in reaction.
“When the Maclaurins were in such desperate need of a leader to battle the English, they sent a contingent to me.”
She nodded, frowning now for she couldn’t imagine why Gabriel wanted to tell her what she already knew. She didn’t interrupt him, however. He looked intense, and it would have been rude for her to interrupt him with the news that she already knew the reason why he was now laird. Nicholas had explained the situation to her, and Father MacKechnie had been happy to give her more details.
There was also the fact that this was the first time Gabriel was taking the time to share his concerns with her. Whether he realized it or not, he was making her feel involved in his life and important.
“Please continue,” she requested.
“After the battle was finished and the English were no longer a threat, the Maclaurins were content to have me for their leader. Of course, they weren’t given the option,” he added with a nod. “They weren’t as receptive to my followers.”
“Didn’t the MacBain soldiers fight with the Maclaurins against the English?”
“They did.”
“Then why aren’t the Maclaurins thankful now? Have they forgotten?”
Gabriel shook his head. “Not all of the MacBains could fight. Auggie is one example. He’s too old for battle now. I thought, given time, the Maclaurins and the MacBains would learn to adjust, but now I realize that isn’t going to happen. My patience is at an end, wife. The men will either get along and work together or suffer my displeasure.”
He was growling just like Dumfries by the time he finished his explanation. She stroked the side of his neck. “What happens when you’re displeased?”
He shrugged. “I usually kill someone.”
She was certain he was jesting with her. She smiled. “I won’t allow fights in my house, husband. You’ll have to do your killing somewhere else.”
He was too stunned by what she’d just said to take exception to her command. Johanna had just called the keep her house. It was a first, for until this moment, she’d always referred to everything as his. Gabriel hadn’t realized how much her separation, deliberate or not, had bothered him.
“Is this your home?”
“Yes,” she answered. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Johanna, I want you to be happy here.”
He sounded puzzled by his own admission. She couldn’t help but become a little disgruntled over that notice.
“You sound surprised,” she said. Lord, he had beautiful eyes. She thought she could be content to look at her husband all day long and not grow bored. He really was a handsome devil.
“I am surprised,” he admitted.
He suddenly wanted to kiss her. Her mouth was so damned appealing to him. So were her eyes. They were the clearest color of blue he’d ever seen. Hell, he even liked the way she frowned at him. He had to shake his head over that foolish realization. Wives should never let their husbands see their displeasure . . . should they?
“Some husbands want their wives to be happy,” Johanna decided aloud. “My father certainly wanted Mama to be happy.”
“And what did your mother want?”
“To love my father,” she answered.
“And what do you want?”
She shook her head. She wasn’t about to tell him she wanted to love him. Such a declaration would make her vulnerable . . . wouldn’t it?
“I know what you want,” she blurted out in an attempt to take the attention away from her feelings. “You want me to sit by the fire and sew at night and rest my days away. That’s what you want.”
She’d become almost rigid in his arms. She wasn’t stroking his neck now either. She was pulling his hair. He reached up, took hold of her hand, and put it in her lap.
“Oh, I forgot one last thing,” she blurted out. “You’d like me to stay where you put me, isn’t that right?”
“Don’t jest with me, wife. I’m not in the mood.”
She wasn’t jesting with him, but she didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell him so. She didn’t want to goad his temper. She wanted him to stay in a good mood so he would let her have her way.
“There’s more than one way to skin a fish,” she announced.
He didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. He didn’t think she did either. For that reason he didn’t ask her to explain.
“I believed, given time, that we would get used to each other,” he told her.
“You make us sound like the Maclaurins and the MacBains,” she countered. “Are you getting used to me?”
“It’s taking longer than I expected,” he told her.
He was deliberately getting her riled. Johanna was trying not to let him see how upset she was becoming. The proof was in her eyes, however. They were now the color of blue fire. Aye, she was irritated all right.
“I haven’t had much experience with marriage,” he reminded her.
“I have,” she blurted out.
He shook his head. “You weren’t married. You were in bondage. There’s a difference.”
She couldn’t fault his reasoning. She had been in bondage. However, she didn’t want to dwell on her past. “And just what does my first marriage have to do with the topic under discussion?”
“What exactly is the topic?”
“Alex,” she stammered out. “I was explaining to you that there is always more than one way to skin a fish. Don’t you understand?”
“How in God’s name would I understand? No one skins fish here.”
She thought he was being deliberately obtuse. He certainly didn’t appreciate clever sayings. “I meant that there is always more than one way to attain a goal.” she explained. “I won’t have to use force to get the Maclaurins to behave. I’ll use other methods.”
She could tell he was finally considering the matter. She pressed her advantage. “You told me I should trust you.’Tis the truth you ordered me to,” she reminded him. “Now I will give you the same command. Trust me to take care of Alex. Please bring him home.”
He couldn’t deny her. “Very well,” he agreed with a sigh. “I’ll get him tomorrow, but he’ll only come here for a short visitation. If all goes well, then he’ll stay. Otherwise . . .”
“It will go well.”
“I won’t have him put in jeopardy.”
“No, of course not.”
She tried to get off his lap. He stopped her by grabbing hold of her.
“Johanna?”
“Yes?”
“Do you trust me?”
She stared into his eyes for a long minute. He believed she was thinking the question over before she gave her answer. The possibility chafed. They’d been married for over three months now, and that was surely time enough for her to learn to trust him.
“Your hesitation irritates me,” he snapped.
She didn’t seem particularly bothered by that fact. She touched the side of his face with her hand. “I can tell it does,” she whispered. “Yes, Gabriel, I trust you.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. The wonder in her voice, added to the show of affection, made him smile.
“Do you trust me?”
He almost laughed until he realized she was being serious. “A warrior doesn’t trust anyone, Johanna, but his laird, of course.”
“Husbands should trust wives, shouldn’t they?”
He didn’t know. “I don’t believe it’s necessary.” He rubbed his jaw, then added, “Nay, it would be foolish.”
“Gabriel?”
“Yes?”
“You make me want to tear my hair out.”
“Begging your pardon, mistress,” Hilda called out from the doorway. “May I have a moment of your time?”
Johanna jumped off her husband’s lap. She was blushing by the time she turned to the cook and bid her enter the hall.
“Who’s sitting with Clare?” she asked.
“Father MacKechnie’s with her now,” Hilda answered. “She wanted to speak to him.”
Johanna nodded. Gabriel stood up. “Why didn’t you tell me she was awake?”
He didn’t give her time to answer but started for the steps. Johanna hurried after him. “I promised her she could stay here,” she blurted out.
Her husband didn’t answer her. She pushed Dumfries out of her way and chased her husband up the steps.
“What are you thinking to do?” she demanded.
“I’m just going to talk to her, Johanna. You needn’t worry. ”
“She isn’t up to a long conversation, husband, and Father MacKechnie might be hearing her confession now. You shouldn’t interrupt.”
The priest was just opening the door to come out when Gabriel reached the chamber. He nodded to Father MacKechnie as he passed him. Johanna was right behind her husband.
“You will wait here while I talk to her,” Gabriel commanded.
“But she might be afraid of you, husband.”
“Then she’ll have to be afraid.”
He shut the door in his wife’s face. Johanna didn’t have time to be outraged over his rudeness. She was too worried about Clare MacKay.
She put her ear to the door and tried to listen. Father MacKechnie shook his head and pulled her away.
“Let your husband have his privacy,” he suggested. “You should know by now our laird would never hurt a woman.”
“Oh, I do know that,” Johanna rushed out. “Still, Clare MacKay wouldn’t know, would she?”
The priest didn’t have an answer for her. She turned the topic then. “Did you hear Clare’s confession?”
“I did.”
Johanna’s shoulders slumped. Father MacKechnie thought that was an odd reaction. “Confession’s a sacrament.” he reminded his mistress. “She wanted absolution.”
“At what price?” Johanna asked in a whisper.
“I’m not understanding your question, lass.”
“The penance,” she blurted out. “It was severe, wasn’t it?”
“You know I cannot discuss the penance,” he said.
“Bishop Hallwick liked to boast about his penances,” Johanna blurted out.
The priest demanded several examples. The one that most repelled her she saved for last. “One leg for one egg,” she said. “The bishop laughed after he suggested that punishment to my first husband to inflict upon a serving girl.”
Father MacKechnie plied her with questions, and when she’d given him her answers, he shook his head.
“I’m ashamed to hear this,” he admitted, “for I would like to believe all priests are good men doing God’s important work here. Bishop Hallwick will have his day of reckoning when he stands before his Maker and tries to explain away his deliberate cruelty.”
“But, Father, the church stands behind the bishop. He takes his penances from the good book. Why, even the length of the stick is given.”
“What are you talking about? What stick?” the priest asked, thoroughly confused.
She didn’t understand why he didn’t know what she was talking about. “The church dictates how a husband and wife should behave,” she told him. “A submissive wife is a good and holy wife. The church approves beating women and, in fact, recommends such punishment because women will try to rule their husbands if they’re not kept submissive.”
She paused to take a breath. Discussing the topic was upsetting to her, but she didn’t want the priest to see her distress. He might ask her why she was distraught, and then she’d have to confess a dark and surely mortal sin.
“The church frowns on murder, of course. A husband shouldn’t beat his wife to death. A stick is preferred over a fist. It should be wooden, not metal, and no more than this long.”
She held her hands out to show him the measurement.
