The MacAlister soldiers let out a cheer in greeting when their laird raised his hand.
"Do they always cheer you when you return home?"
"No, only when I've been away a long time."
"How long were you away then?"
"Almost three weeks."
What had he been doing all that while? She was just about to ask him when she remembered the blue paint on his face. She promptly changed her mind. If she found out he'd been raiding, her good mood would be ruined. She'd ruin his as well because she would feel compelled to let him know what she thought about that barbaric pastime.
She noticed how the soldiers stared at her when they rode past, and even though she smiled at them, they didn't smile back. She started worrying in no time at all.
"Will your followers dislike me because I was supposed to marry MacNare?"
"No."
"None of the six soldiers we just passed smiled at me."
"Of course they didn't."
"Why not?"
"Because you're my wife. They'll honor you."
"And if I'm not worthy of their honor?"
"You are."
She thought that was a very thoughtful, kind thing to say to her, and since Connor wasn't a thoughtful or kind man, she immediately became suspicious.
"Why?"
"Because I chose you."
"I chose you, remember?"
"You like to argue with me, don't you?"
She didn't believe his question merited an answer. "Will I like your home?"
"Of course."
"I can't wait to see it. Is it as appealing as Alec's home? I won't be disappointed if it isn't," she hastened to add. "I don't need it to be grand. Is it?"
Her enthusiasm made him smile. "Yes, it's just as appealing as my brother's home."
"You're proud of it, aren't you? I can hear it in your voice."
"I suppose I am."
"Is the hall as large as Alec's? I won't mind if it isn't."
"Because you don't need it to be as large."
"Yes."
"I cannot say for certain if it's as large. I've never taken the time to notice."
"What makes your home so appealing?"
"It's secure."
What did secure have to do with appearance? "But what does it look like?"
"Invincible," he answered.
She wasn't getting anywhere with him. She would have to wait and see for herself, she decided.
He thought he'd told her everything she needed to know. Although he felt his home was invincible, there was still work to be done on the wall. He was going to reinforce the wood with stone as his brother had suggested, and add yet another platform on the northern peak.
Brenna's excitement mounted as they rode along, and her mood was so improved, she couldn't stop smiling.
Connor's mood darkened as soon as the ruins of his father's home came into view.
"Who lived here?" she whispered as she stared at the charred remains of the vast structure.
"My father."
"Did he die there?"
"Yes."
"Did you live there with him?"
"Yes."
The coldness in his voice told her he didn't want to be questioned about his past. She had every intention of finding out everything she could about her husband so she would be able to understand how he had become such a hard, rigid man, but she knew she would have to be patient and undemanding, or he would never open his heart to her. She would first prove to him that she could be trusted, and eventually he would soften his attitude and begin to confide in her.
She couldn't stop staring at the destruction. Even after they had ridden past, she leaned into Connor's side so she could look behind him to study it.
She had seen the results of fire before, but there was something puzzling about the MacAlister ruin. It took her several minutes before she finally figured out what was missing. The burned crofter's cottage she'd once seen had quickly been overgrown by weeds. This ruin wasn't. There was a forest on three sides of it, yet not one vine had reached the hollowed-out remains. Obviously it had been carefully maintained, and perhaps that was why it seemed so eerie to her.
Why hadn't Connor ordered it torn down? Had he left it to be a reminder to himself and his followers? Patience, she reminded herself. In time she would have her answers.
She straightened up and turned around again. She slipped her hand into his free one, leaned back against him, and said a prayer for his father's soul. She added another one for his dear mother.
Her new home came into view a minute later. She started praying for herself then. She closed her eyes too, frantically hoping that what she believed she'd seen she really hadn't seen at all, but when she gathered enough courage to look again, the monstrous thing was still there, looming over her from the top of a hill like an angry gargoyle.
God really must have been furious with her to have put her in such an ugly place. She must have caused her parents far more worry than she'd ever realized, and saying that she was sorry hadn't been enough to appease him.
Get hold of yourself, she ordered. God wasn't responsible for this fortress; Connor was.
She took a deep breath and told herself to find something nice about her new home. She would study the fortress from bottom to top, and when she was finished, by God, she would be smiling with excitement.
It was gigantic. That was nice, wasn't it? It was, if bigger was indeed better, as Connor obviously believed.
It was also tall. The fortress was at least three-stories high, perhaps even four, though it was difficult to tell because she couldn't seem to find any windows to give her hints.
Still, it was big. And tall.
She finally spotted the windows. Relieved to see them, she felt like weeping with gratitude. She wasn't going to have to live inside a tomb after all. The windows were there all right, but they'd been covered with an ugly brown fabric, which actually matched the color of dried mud rather nicely; though why in God's name anyone would want them to was beyond her. She would take them down as soon as possible, and then it wouldn't look so bad, would it?
Of course it would. Flowers weren't going to help. She would need a miracle to turn this thing into a home.
She felt ashamed of herself. She wasn't concerned only about appearances, and she must adjust her attitude at once. She would start by calling the hideous monstrosity her home.
"Brenna, is something wrong?"
"Why would you think something was wrong?"
"You're panting, like you can't catch your breath."
She said the first thing that came into her mind. Thankfully, it wasn't a lie. "Your home has taken my breath away."
She probably should add a compliment or two so that Connor would know she appreciated his efforts. He was proud of his fortress, and a good wife would at least try to feel the same.
"It's very big."
He didn't have anything to say about that.
"Why, I don't believe I've ever seen one as big. It's also tall, isn't it?"
He didn't have anything to say about that either.
"Have you finished it then?"
"Are you asking if the back of the fortress is finished?"
No, she hadn't even thought about the back of the keep. She wanted to know if he'd finished the front. "Is it?"
"Yes."
"I see," she replied for lack of anything better to say. "Your rampart is very impressive, isn't it?"
"Perhaps."
"It's at least fifteen feet high. Odd that the wood turned such a brownish color, isn't it?"
He tightened his hold around her waist, pulled her back against his chest, and leaned down close to her ear. "Brenna?"
"Yes, Connor?"
"It's going to be all right."
It took her a full minute before she could nod her agreement. She added a silent prayer next for strength and endurance and vowed to make the best of her circumstances. She had never walked away from a difficult task before, and although the idea held a certain appeal now, she wouldn't give in to her hopelessness. Nothing was impossible to achieve if she worked hard enough and used the mind God had given her.