"If you kill my father's soldiers, I couldn't possibly marry you."
"Is that so?"
He sounded to her as if he wanted to laugh. She looked up to see whether he was smiling and was thankful she'd been wrong. He looked just as somber and mean as before.
"Yes, that is so. I told you you wouldn't understand. If you weren't a heathen…"
"I'm not a heathen."
She didn't believe him. The man was smeared with paint, after all. Only pagans would follow such ungodly rituals.
Connor had wasted enough of his time discussing the matter. He looked at Quinlan, fully intending to tell him to let the soldiers leave, though certainly not because of her weak protests. No, it was the fear he'd caused her that made him change his mind. Fear had its place, especially in the hearts of his enemies, but it would be wrong for a wife to fear her husband.
She wouldn't give him time to be magnanimous. "Wait," she cried out. "Is it important for you to marry me?"
He shrugged. She translated the rude action to mean, yes, it was important. "And you are unwilling to explain your reasons?" 'I need not explain myself to you."
"I think perhaps I'd best explain my intentions to you, though." she replied. "And then I believe you'll understand. If you aren't a heathen, how are you going to get me to marry you? Will you simply announce to your family and friends that you have taken a wife? Or will there be a ceremony with a priest to hear our vows and bless our union?"
"There will be a priest."
She frowned. "A priest in good standing with the church?"
He smiled then. He simply couldn't stop himself. Lord, she was suspicious. "A priest in good standing," he promised.
Victory was suddenly within her grasp. She said a quick prayer in thanksgiving to God for helping her, promised to get down on her knees later to beg His forgiveness because she'd believed He hadn't listened to her plea for assistance, and then said, "Exactly how do you plan to get me to repeat my vows in front of this man of God?"
"You will."
"Will I?"
She had him there. She couldn't possibly know how important it was for her to agree to marry him. He wasn't worried about the behavior of the priest or Brenna during the actual ceremony. He could be intimidating when he needed to be. It was Alec Kincaid who gave him pause. Connor was already standing on trembling ground with his brother, and if Brenna let Alec know she hadn't agreed, there would be hell to pay. He could deal with that, but if Alec wanted the pig MacNare to have her, Connor would have to go against him.
She was pleased to see his smile disappear. "Now I think you understand," she said. "I would like you to let the soldiers leave unharmed. Let them go to Laird MacNare or back to my father."
The innocent woman actually thought she was saving their lives. Connor knew better. MacNare would surely torture the men before he disposed of them, and although her father probably wouldn't be as twisted with his punishment, Connor assumed he would still kill them because they had dishonored him.
"And if I agree to this difficult bargain?" he asked, trying to keep his amusement out of his voice. "You'll accept this marriage? I want your agreement and your acceptance."
"There's a difference?"
"There is," he replied. "In time, you'll understand."
"Do you expect me to give you my promise without knowing exactly what it is I'm promising?"
"Do you expect me to let twelve cowards live when they poison the air I breathe?"
He was frowning at her now, and she couldn't help but worry he might be changing his mind. She decided not to press her good fortune. She had just won an important victory, hadn't she?
Still, she didn't feel like celebrating. "I'll agree and I'll accept."
"You have a kind heart."
She was astonished by his compliment. "Thank you."
"It wasn't praise," he snapped. "I want you to rid yourself of such a weakness."
He'd rendered her speechless. How could she possibly argue with such opinions?
His followers were just as odd as their leader. When they were ordered to let the soldiers leave unharmed, they didn't even try to hide their disappointment. They pouted like babies. She glared at the Highlanders while she was being pulled along by their leader. Quinlan had the gall to smile back at her.
The man she had just promised to accept didn't speak to her again until they were well away from the others.
"Brenna?"
"Yes?"
"I'm not always going to be this pleasant."
She could tell he was serious, but still she wanted to laugh until she cried. She was fast losing her control and forced herself to calm down. She needed to stay clearheaded so she could figure a way to get out of this nightmare.
Oh, Lord, what had she gotten herself into?
Damn it all, none of this was her fault. She knew the truth, though she doubted anyone in her family would understand, especially her father. On her way out the door to go to MacNare, hadn't she threatened to do something rash? Papa was surely going to think she'd done just that.
"If my father blames me for this marriage, you're going to have to set him straight. I didn't plan this, and you're going to tell him so. Promise me you will."
He didn't answer her. She knew he'd heard every word, though, because she'd shamelessly raised her voice. "Promise me," she demanded again.
He lifted her onto her horse, and while that was very thoughtful of him indeed, she didn't thank him.
She grabbed his hand as he let go of her waist. "Promise me?" she asked yet again.
"'Tis doubtful you'll ever see your family again. Your concern is foolish."
He thought he was very reasonable.
She thought he was deliberately cruel. Tears filled her eyes over the very idea that she might not see her family again.
She pushed his hand away. "I will see them again. You cannot expect me to… Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to walk away from someone when she's talking to you?"
Connor couldn't believe what he'd just heard. She had actually criticized him. No one had ever spoken to him with such open disapproval before, and a woman addressing him in such a fashion was simply beyond his comprehension.
Honest to God, he didn't know how to react. If she were a man, he knew exactly what he would do, of course, but she wasn't a man, and that made his dilemma confusing. Brenna certainly wasn't like any of the women he'd known. Most avoided him, and those who had more courage kept their heads lowered and their bearing humble in his presence.
His reaction to Brenna was bewildering. She made him feel like smiling, even when she was frowning at him. In truth, she was such a refreshing change from all of the others, he couldn't even begin to imagine her cowering before him, and though her bizarre behavior pleased him, he knew it would be a mistake to let her think she could always get away with such defiance. It would be a poor beginning at best. He was going to be her laird, and she needed to understand exactly what that meant. Appreciation would come later. He decided to be understanding now, so he put his hand on her thigh, gently squeezed, and stared into her eyes.
"You don't understand yet, and for that reason, I will be patient with you."
"Exactly what don't I understand?"
"Your position in my household. Soon you'll learn to value the great honor I've bestowed on you by marrying you."
Her eyes turned a deep violet blue. Lord, she was pretty when she was angry.
"I will?" she asked.
"You will."
She put her hand on top of his and began to squeeze. She wasn't at all gentle.
"Perhaps you should bestow this great honor on someone who does understand," she suggested.
He ignored her remark and continued on with his explanation. "Until you learn to appreciate the gift I've given you, I expect you to voice your opinions only when you are asked to do so. I cannot tolerate insolence. Now give me your promise."