"Would it help if I carried you?"
His suggestion didn't sit well with her. "And have your followers think you married a weakling? I'll crawl first."
She straightened her shoulders, tugged her hand away from his, and tried to hurry past him. She didn't get very far. He caught her around her waist and forced her into his side. He didn't have to tell her to lean against him. She was too weary to even consider struggling. She sagged against him and let out a little sigh. She didn't dare close her eyes for even a second for fear she'd fall asleep on her feet if she did. God only knew, she'd done it before.
"You've had a difficult day."
"No, I haven't."
"Do you have to disagree with everything I say?"
"I was simply giving you my opinion. We've yet to argue, Connor. Once we do, you'll know the difference. Please let go of me as soon as we reach the courtyard. I don't want your followers to think I can't stand without assistance."
In frustration, she threaded her fingers through her hair, then grimaced as she touched her injury. "I never seem to say the right thing to you. Everything's so different here. I don't like chaos, and it seems to me that my life has been extremely chaotic since I met you. I want to live in peace."
"It's going to become much easier for you now."
She didn't look as though she believed him. "Do you promise?"
He smiled. "I promise."
She managed to smile back and relax. He didn't know if it had been his calm voice or his promise that had soothed her.
"I don't like surprises," she remarked as she moved closer to his side again. "Unless, of course, I know about them in advance."
She sounded sincere enough for him to think she didn't realize she'd just contradicted herself. "If you know in advance, it isn't a surprise."
"Exactly so," she reasoned. "Tell me how it will become easier."
"You won't have to worry about pleasing me. I'm rarely here."
"I don't worry about pleasing you now. But I don't understand why you're rarely here. This is your home."
"Yes."
"And I'm here."
"I realize that. We'll see each other now and again."
They had finally reached the courtyard proper. It was deserted.
"You mentioned you would only be here every now and again?" she asked, sorry her voice sounded so strained.
His mind was on an entirely different matter. Crispin's report that their ally to the south wanted Connor to see something that had been left at his border had made him curious, and he was guessing what the something might be. Because of the life he'd led, he was naturally suspicious and had already concluded the surprise wasn't going to be welcome. He wasn't an impatient man when important issues were at stake, and so he once again decided to wait and see before he contemplated his response.
Brenna's question pulled him away from his thoughts. "Exactly how often is 'now and again'?"
"Once or twice a month."
"You're serious?"
"I am."
The more he told her, the less she wanted to hear. "A husband should be home with his wife more often than twice a month."
"I have other more important duties."
She felt as though he were abandoning her. Worse, she believed he was eager to do just that.
"Why bother to come back at all?"
He decided to ignore the anger in her voice. "Several reasons come to mind. The most compelling one is you."
A little of her irritation eased away. "Me?" she whispered, hoping he would redeem himself by giving her some praise.
"I want children."
She wanted to throttle him. "You mentioned you did."
"I'm pleased you remember."
"I remember everything you said to me: you married me to insult MacNare, and you'll be happy to take me back to England as soon as I give you a son. I doubt I'll ever forget those two important facts. Your reasons make me feel so very worthy."
"Would you rather I lied to you?"
She shook her head. "I would rather we never, ever talk about this again. You may explain your duties and your expectations the next time you happen to pass by the area. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go inside."
"I will call my followers together and introduce you to them as soon as Donald returns with the younger soldiers."
"You needn't go to any trouble, Connor. I already have one black mark against me; I might as well have another."
"What black mark?" he called out.
He stood in the center of the courtyard, his attention fully on his wife. Her behavior was most perplexing. She'd hurried on ahead of him, but hadn't gone to the steps leading inside the keep. No, she'd gone to the center of the wall and was now pacing back and forth along the front of the keep.
It was obvious he'd upset her, and while he knew he was fully responsible, he couldn't understand how it had happened. His goal had been to soothe her, yet one word had led to another, and before he realized what the outcome would be, she was getting teary eyed. He believed he'd been thoughtful by telling her he wouldn't be home very often. Yet she acted as though he'd just betrayed her. How in God's name would he ever make sense out of her?
"Explain this black mark," he ordered when she didn't immediately answer him.
"I'm English, for the love of God, and everyone knows I was on my way to marry MacNare. Surely you understand what I'm up against? Oh, and I'm clumsy too," she told her husband. "I forgot about that. What have you done with your steps? I can't seem to find them."
"They're on the side of the keep," he answered.
"I fell down Alec's steps, remember?"
Crispin had just caught up with Connor and turned to his laird. "Mi'lady fell down steps?"
"It seems she did," he replied.
Connor would have taken the time to explain if he hadn't noticed his wife was about to go around to the wrong side of the keep. "The steps are on the opposite side, Brenna."
She promptly turned around. "They're supposed to be in the center of the front, facing the courtyard. Everyone knows that is the fashion these days. I'm wanting to sleep in a bed tonight and not on the floor, Connor. Do you have beds inside?"
She finally looked at her husband so he would see her frown and realized she wasn't up to hearing any more of his plans about their future. Hearing he would stop by every once in a while was more than enough for her stomach in one day. She noticed Quinlan and Crispin were standing next to her husband and promptly changed her frown into a smile. No doubt about it, Connor was turning her into a shrew. God only knew how long his soldiers had been observing her rant and rave like a lunatic. Although it was probably too late to change their opinion of her, she decided to give it her best try.
"It's going to be a fine evening, isn't it?" she called out, pretending everything was as right as could be and she hadn't been acting like a madwoman seconds ago.
"If you think so, mi'lady," Crispin called back. "What just came over her?" he whispered to Quinlan.
"We did," he answered. "I believe she only just noticed us and doesn't want us to know her husband offended her."
"I didn't offend her."
"It would seem to me that you did."
Connor shoved his friend aside on his way to intercept his wife.
She kept on smiling, even when she reached the top of the stone steps and noticed there wasn't a landing to stand on. She backed down a step and reached forward to grasp the handle to the entrance.
The door wouldn't open. It was either bolted on the inside or reinforced with iron or steel. She put both hands to her task, added her muscle, and finally got it open a crack. It still wasn't wide enough for her to squeeze through without getting crushed.
Connor came to her assistance. He heard her muttering to herself as he came up the steps behind her. He put his arm around her waist, pulled her back against him, and reached over her shoulder to open the door with one quick flick of his wrist.