"My wife will be over the first of the week to plant your flowers, Brenna."
"Thank you, Laird."
"Alec was thanking you," Connor told her.
"I realize that. I was thanking him for showing me such kindness."
"If I were not so grateful to you for coming to my daughter's assistance, I would have to take issue with you for believing Connor and I wouldn't notice anything was amiss. We notice everything."
"For two intelligent women, you both misjudged us," Connor said.
"Aye, you did," Alec agreed. He removed his hand and stepped back. "You do understand that it was our decision that allowed you to win your wager, but you need not thank us for our thoughtfulness.''
She laughed again. "You believe you let me win? I think not, Laird."
He raised his eyebrow. "We deliberately pretended not to notice."
"That is so," she agreed. "And you would be right to believe you favored the outcome if your observation had been what we wagered about. Jamie and I knew you would notice."
"What was the wager over?" Connor asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.
"Jamie was sure you wouldn't be able to keep silent and would demand to know what happened as soon as you looked at me. I wagered you wouldn't say a word, and if my memory serves me, I do believe that is exactly what happened."
"One is the same as the other," Connor argued.
"Is it?" she asked with an innocent smile and a look that told him she thought he was wrong.
"Admit it, Connor. The victory belongs to Brenna," Alec conceded.
"It does," Connor agreed.
"Will Jamie bring Grace with her when she plants my flowers?"
"No, I don't let my children leave my land. Connor, I'll be riding with my wife. I expect you to be there."
Alec shoved him once again to show his affection, before striding back toward his home. Grace must have been waiting just inside the doors, for as soon as Alec pulled one open, she ran to him and snatched her blanket out of his hand.
Once she and Connor were on their way, Brenna made herself more comfortable by shifting her weight on his lap and wrapping her arms around his waist.
"I was sorry I didn't get to say good-bye to Grace."
"She's busy explaining her conduct to her father now."
"What will he do to her? It was an accident, Connor. Surely Alec won't hurt her tender feelings."
"She and Dillon are not allowed upstairs alone. Alec will simply remind Grace to obey his orders."
"Are the other children as carefree?"
"No. The boys are shy of strangers, but God help you once they get used to you. They're far more devilish than Grace is."
"I fear she will always be my favorite."
Connor was deliberately trying to keep up the idle conversation so Brenna wouldn't notice the number of Kincaid soldiers riding escort. He didn't want her to become concerned about Alec's reasons. She might even assume MacNare was somehow responsible for his brother's outrageously protective gesture.
He knew he was going to have to put up with his brother's interference. He wasn't happy about it, though. Neither was Quinlan, but unlike his laird, he wasn't trying to hide his irritation.
"I would not make a favorite of one of my children," she assured him.
He didn't have anything to say about that. She wanted to keep him talking, in hopes that the conversation would take her mind off the pain nagging her now. Her head was throbbing, and her thigh was once again burning something fierce.
He realized what her goal was as soon as she shifted position in his lap again.
"I had already left home before Dillon and Grace were born," he remarked. "I am closest to Mary Kathleen, as I know her better than the others. Still, I will admit I have a special fondness for Grace, but only because she reminds me of someone else."
She tried to look up at him, but he gently pushed her face against his chest so she couldn't. She pinched him to let him know how much she disliked that and then asked him to tell her who Grace reminded him of.
"A child I once held in my arms."
He wouldn't tell her anything more, but the memory of the child he'd held had pleased him. The warmth in his voice told her so.
"Are you pleased Euphemia is coming to visit?"
"Yes. You aren't, though, are you?"
"Of course I am," she argued. "I'm just a little… apprehensive about meeting her. It's very important to win her approval," she added. "She's your mother, after all, and it would be very upsetting if she didn't like me."
"Why?"
She couldn't believe he needed to ask. "Because there must be harmony in your household, that's why, and it's up to me to see to her wishes. While she's in your home, she's mistress. Surely you understand now."
"You worry about every little thing. She'll like you just fine."
She wasn't as certain as Connor was, but she vowed to win Euphemia's love. Several minutes passed as she thought about different ways she could please the woman, and then she put the worry aside and moved on. She tried to think about the lovely time she'd had visiting with Jamie as a means of taking her mind off the pounding her thigh was taking. It didn't work.
"It's a good day for a walk, isn't it?"
He didn't answer her. She wasn't deterred. "I believe I'd like to walk for a little while. It will be nice to stretch my legs."
"No." He softened his denial by brushing his chin across the top of her head. "Would it help if I carry you facedown across my lap?"
His suggestion horrified her. She pictured herself flung over his knees with her head hanging down on one side of the stallion and her feet dangling down on the other, and she thought she might die of mortification then and there.
What a wonderful way that would be for her to meet his followers. "I cannot imagine what you think to help with your suggestion. I'm perfectly fine, thank you. I merely thought a walk would be invigorating on such a fine day. Forget I mentioned it."
She had placed pride above comfort, just as he had expected her to do. He moved his hand under her skirts to find out for himself the extent of her injury. He considered stopping to take a look, but quickly discarded the idea. Getting her cooperation would take him an hour, and in another ten minutes, they would reach the division between the lands and be home at last.
His touch felt like a caress. Still, she didn't like it. She went completely still and whispered, "Remove your hand."
"You've got a fair-sized bruise, don't you? Does it hurt?"
"It doesn't hurt at all. Please remove your hand. It's embarrassing."
Connor conceded.
"An Englishman would give his wife a little sympathy," she muttered.
"I'm not English."
"No, you're not," she agreed. "May I ask you questions about your home?"
"Yes."
"First, please tell me when we'll reach your land."
"Look to the rise above you and you'll see my sentries watching us."
She immediately straightened her appearance. She ran her fingers through her hair to get the tangles out, bumped Connor's shoulder as she smoothed her curls behind her, fixed the pleats of her plaid to her satisfaction, and pinched color into her cheeks.
"What in God's name are you doing?"
"Pinching myself."
He told himself not to ask. He did anyway.
"Because I don't want to look pale."
He shook his head. He had never heard of anything so preposterous.
"How long before we reach your fortress?" she asked.
"Very soon."
"Do you mean to tell me we live close to Alec and Jamie?"
"Yes."
"Will I be able to visit as often as I wish?"
"Yes."
Her enthusiasm made her forget her pain. He explained he hadn't built his home in the center of his property, but near the edge of his brother's land, instead. She assumed he'd done so to please Alec.