Chapter 1

"Is there anywhere private here at Gunn?"

Graeme paused in reaching for the keep doors and turned to Payton MacKay with surprise. "Private?"

"Aye. Somewhere I can talk to me sister alone to give her the news," he explained and then added, "'Twill be embarrassing

for Annella later does she faint or begin in keenin' over the loss in front o' everyone as she's like to do when I tell her.

So 'tis best to do it away from all."

"Ah." Graeme nodded with understanding, but his gaze moved to the two men behind MacKay. Symon and Teague. He wasn't surprised to see his friends showing the same discomfort he was feeling at the thought of a weeping woman. The two warriors had been with him for years, the three of them hiring themselves out to anyone with a need and the coin to pay them. They'd battled their way across the better part of Scotland, as well as more far-flung and exotic places. That being the case, none of them were used to dealing with members of the opposite gender. At least not ladies with their delicate sensibilities. They were more used to camp followers and tavern wenches who'd as soon scratch out their own eyes as let tears leak from them. Tough women who had fought to survive and would continue that fight all the days of their lives. Women for whom weeping and wailing would do little to make their lives better, so didn't bother with it as ladies were apparently wont to do.

At least that's what Payton claimed ladies were like. The man had spent a good deal of the past six months regaling their

traveling party with how sweet and sensitive his sisters, Kenna and Annella, were, and had made it obvious he worried over

how Annella would take the news that she was a widow. He seemed to think it would shatter her delicate sensibilities.

After sharing a grimace with Symon and Teague, Graeme shifted his gaze back to Payton. "There are gardens behind the keep.

The vegetable and fruit gardens closer to the kitchens are often crowded, but there is a floral garden beyond that should

suit your purpose."

"Good, good," Payton said, but it seemed obvious he wasn't eager to attend to the task ahead of him. Graeme understood that.

He himself wasn't eager to impart the news to his parents. His father would no doubt be fine and take it like a man, but his

mother...

Graeme didn't even want to consider her reaction. William had been her favorite son, her little angel. She would no doubt

be fainting and keening right alongside Annella for the next three days.

Shaking his head at the thought, Graeme finally opened the doors to the keep and led Payton and the other men inside.

"Damn me, Raynard! Ye're making me head ache with yer bellowing. Do you no' stop it, I swear I'll knock ye silly!"

Graeme's footsteps slowed, his gaze searching the great hall for the source of those words. It was a woman's voice, but her

accent was an odd combination of Scots and English. Rather like Payton, whose mother was English and father was Scottish,

so that his speech was not wholly one or the other, but—

His thoughts died abruptly as his gaze found the gathering of men crowded around the only trestle table presently set up.

As a couple of the men shifted, he caught sight of a woman. It was only the back of her that he briefly glimpsed before the

men moved again, hiding her from sight. Graeme was left with an impression of a short, shapely female in a dark gown, with

long blonde hair cascading down her back. But that image didn't at all match the words he'd just heard, he decided.

"Stop pokin' me with that damned needle, and I'll stop bellowin'!" a deep voice roared back.

"It'd serve you right if I did stop and let you bleed to death, ye big oaf. I've told ye and told ye that you drink too much

and need to cut back ere ye kill yourself with one o' your drunken falls. Yet here ye are! On the table again, me having to

sew ye up after ye passed out and fell on your own damned knife."

"The hell I did!" The man sounded outraged at the suggestion. "Somebody must ha'e stabbed me, I tell ye!"

A sharp snort of disbelief was followed by the demand, "Where's the knife?"

Curious, Graeme started forward again, toward where the men were gathered. He was vaguely aware that Payton and the others

were following him, but his attention was on the blade that was suddenly held aloft by one of the men at the back of the group.

It was passed overhead from man to man until it reached the woman who had asked for it. He knew it was her hand that was the

last to take it because the men had shifted once more, giving him a clear view of the petite blonde.

His gaze slid over the blade she now held aloft. It was bloodstained with a crushed and equally bloodied apple at its base,

he noted, as she held it up for the complaining man to see.

"'Tis your own damned knife, Raynard. Your apple's still on it." The woman's voice was filled with disgust.

"Nay, I—"

"There were three witnesses to your fall," the woman continued impatiently. "Sadly, they were behind ye and did no' ken about

your falling on your knife so left ye to sleep off the drink in the path. It was no' until sunrise someone noticed the blood

pooling around ye and brought ye in for sewing. Now quit your bellowin' and let me get on with this ere ye do bleed to death."

It appeared Raynard did not take direction well. The moment the lady bent to again set to work, he immediately resumed struggling

and hollering and making a hell of a racket.

"Should I knock 'im out, Lady Annella?" one of the men helping to hold down the furious Raynard roared to be heard over the noise as he and the others struggled to hold the man still for her to sew up.

Lady Annella shook her head and, in a brief silence as Raynard stopped his bellowing to suck in air, said, "Cook's bringing

me something to make him sleep."

"I dinna want to sleep!" Raynard bellowed at once.

"I dinna care!" Lady Annella roared right back, and Graeme had to bite his lip to keep a snort of laughter from slipping out.

But his urge to laugh faded quickly as he noted how much trouble the half a dozen men were having holding down Raynard.

Graeme was growing concerned the man might actually break free and strike out at Lady Annella when the kitchen door swung

open. Turning his gaze that way, he watched a short, round, gray-haired woman come rushing out with a pot in hand.

"Cook," Graeme murmured under his breath with affection.

"What?" Payton MacKay sounded distracted even as he asked the question.

Graeme's expression changed as he glanced to the man beside him and he arched one eyebrow. "Did I hear one o' the men call

that woman Lady Annella?"

"Aye." Payton frowned slightly as he admitted it.

It was Symon, his voice amused, who then asked, "No' yer sister and Graeme's sister by marriage, Lady Annella Gunn ?"

"Aye," Payton growled, looking a little annoyed now.

"The same lady sister ye've spent the last six months telling us was sweet, kind and delicate?" Teague asked pointedly.

Payton opened his mouth to answer, but then paused and simply stood there, eyes narrowing as he watched his sister.

Made curious, Graeme turned back to see that Cook had pushed her way through the men surrounding the trestle table to reach

the blonde and was holding out the pot.

Graeme would have assumed it held some sort of medicinal to put the man to sleep, except that the pot was handed over at an

angle that showed it was empty. He realized the pot itself was what Cook had been bringing to put the man to sleep when Annella

turned back to the still complaining Raynard and slammed it over his head. Even as the belligerent man went unconscious and

blessedly silent, the lady handed the empty pot back to Cook with a murmured, "Thank ye, Millie," then bent back to sewing

up her patient.

Graeme spun on his heel then and hurried past Symon and Teague, headed back the way they'd come. As quickly as he moved, he

barely made it out of the keep before the laughter burst from his lips.

Annella set the last stitch, and then quickly applied salve before straightening. Pain immediately shot through her lower back, her body's protest at being bent so long. It wasn't unexpected and Annella merely rubbed her back absently as she murmured an order that had several men moving to raise the unconscious Raynard to a sitting position. Once they had him seated upright with his arms held up and out of the way, she stepped forward to begin wrapping clean linen around his upper chest and back to cover the wound. Hers wasn't the only sigh of relief when the task was finally done and Raynard was laid back on the table.

They all then stood and stared at the man with dissatisfaction for a moment. He couldn't be left there, of course. Raynard

would definitely be in the way when people began to wake and wanted to break their fast.

"Should we take him to the barracks?" Angus finally asked.

Annella gave up rubbing her back and scowled down at the unconscious man, but nodded. "Aye. Take him to the barracks. But

have someone stay with him. He's not to get out of bed until I say so."

When Angus nodded that he understood, she grunted and turned away to begin gathering her tools and medicinals.

"I can do that, m'lady."

Annella glanced around with surprise to see her maid, Florie, slipping past the men now carrying Raynard away. The moment

she reached Annella's side, the petite brunette began snatching the various items she'd already gathered out of her hands.

Annella was so surprised to see her that she let her.

"What are you doing up?" she asked as the maid quickly began repacking the items in the bag Annella kept them in. Florie had been asleep on a palette in Annella's room when one of the servants had come knocking and let her know that Liddy in the village was "birthin' her bairn." Annella hadn't been concerned that the noise hadn't even made Florie stir. Aside from being a deep sleeper and hard to wake, the maid had been up with her the evening before last, helping her with the ailing blacksmith all through the night. That being the case, Annella had decided to let her sleep this night. Hence her surprise to see her up and about now.

"'Tis morning," Florie told her dryly and gestured around the great hall.

Annella glanced around to see that nearly every trestle table had already been reassembled. And while some servants and soldiers

were still working on setting up the last of them, everyone else was finding a spot to sit. There were even several people

milling about waiting for her to leave so that they could claim seats at the table Raynard had been lying on just moments

ago.

"Damn," Annella breathed. She hadn't realized it was so late. In fact, she'd been hoping to get at least an hour or so of

rest before starting the day. It looked like that wouldn't be happening though.

"Come." Florie closed the bag of medicinals, clasped it in one hand and Annella's arm in the other and began to urge her away

from the table. "'Tis to bed with ye now."

"Nay." Annella tried to pull her arm from Florie's grasp. "'Tis morning, and I've much to do today."

Florie scowled at her with exasperation. "Ye've been up all night, and that after being up all through the night before too.

Ye must rest, m'lady, or ye'll make yerself ill, and then what will we do?"

Annella hesitated at the words, but finally shook her head. "Today is market day in the village, and there are things Millie needs me to purchase for her to continue making our meals. We also need soaps and candles and—I'll go to bed early tonight to make up fer it," she interrupted herself to say when Florie opened her mouth on what would no doubt have been a protest. When the maid hesitated, obviously not convinced, Annella added, "I promise. I shall go early to bed tonight and rise later on the morrow to make up fer it."

Florie didn't look happy, but didn't protest further either and simply released her arm. "I'll take yer bag up to yer room.

Ye go sit yersel' at table. Cook already has food and drink fer ye to break yer fast with. No doubt she's just waitin' fer

ye to sit to bring it out."

"Thank you," Annella murmured and headed for the high table. She was almost to the spot where she normally sat when she realized

it wasn't empty as she would have expected. The high table was usually for the laird's family, honored guests and the more

senior soldiers, but Gaufrid, the old laird, never left his room now, and Eschina, Lady Gunn, never rose early. That left

only Annella's youngest brother-in-law, Dauid, who was away at the moment, and the senior soldiers—but they were the men who

had carried Raynard away and wouldn't have returned yet.

For one moment she thought perhaps Dauid was back and her mother by marriage must have risen early for a change. Not a happy thought. Annella didn't mind Dauid so much. He could be annoying and tended to follow her around like a pup. But his mother was a nasty old biddy, who liked to make any- and everyone unfortunate enough to encounter her as miserable as she was. Annella had made an art form of avoiding the woman. She'd become quite skilled at the endeavor these last six years. Her mind was even now searching for a way to avoid her. But as she gazed at the high table, Annella realized that her mother-in-law wasn't one of the people there. It was four men she didn't recognize. All were big and strapping with at least a week's worth of dust and dirt coating their long hair, clothes, and even their skin.

Guests then , she thought, and only then recalled Lady Gunn saying something about expecting her cousins at some point. Annella couldn't

recall when exactly Lady Gunn had said they would arrive, but had thought she had weeks yet to prepare. It seemed not, however.

This must be the cousins, freshly arrived from what she guessed had been a long journey. No doubt weary, hungry and in need

of drink, food, a bath and a bed in that order. She approached the table, mentally running through where to house the men

even as she offered a welcoming smile.

"Welcome, gentlemen, I'm—"

"Annella," the nearest of the four men said as they all got to their feet.

"Aye," she said with surprise, but supposed she shouldn't be. The cousins would have heard of her marriage to William Gunn

six years ago. "And ye're the cousins Lady Gunn mentioned were coming to—"

"Annella," the man said again, his tone this time more than a little exasperated. "'Tis I."

She paused at that, her mouth closing on the words that she hadn't got to say as she peered at the man. Under closer inspection, he did look familiar around the eyes. But between the dirt and dust coating his skin and the bushy beard and moustache covering the better part of his face, she just couldn't—

"It looks like yer sister does no' recognize ye," one of the other men said with amusement. He was the shortest of the four,

but only by an inch or two, and as big as the others when it came to wide shoulders and muscled arms. His hair appeared to

be darker than the others', although honestly, it might have just been dirtier. She couldn't tell. The only things not dust

or dirt covered were his eyes, which were a brown so dark they were almost black.

"And here we've heard nought these last six months, but how close ye and yer sisters were while growin' up, MacKay," another

of the men added. This one had his long hair pulled back into a ponytail, and his beard braided. She couldn't tell at all

what color his hair was, but his beard appeared to be lighter than the hair on his head and his eyes were blue. That was all

Annella noticed before his words made it through her weary mind. MacKay? She looked at the man who had first spoken with fresh eyes.

It had been six years since Annella had seen her brother, Payton. He'd been nineteen then, tall, strong and proud, but he

was stronger now, his chest and arms nearly twice the size they used to be. In fact, he was as big as their father now. Good

heavens!

"Payton!" she squealed, launching herself at her brother. She heard his muttered curse as he stumbled backward under her impact,

but he caught her and managed to stay upright. His arms closed around her briefly, before he just as quickly began to urge

her away.

"Nay, Nella, I'm filthy from the journey and will get muck and dust all over ye," he protested.

Annella gave a snort of laughter at that as he set her away. "Then 'twill go well with the blood and other muck already on

me gown."

Payton wrinkled his nose at her words, his gaze sliding over her gown, which really had very little blood or anything else

on it.

"What are ye doing here?" Annella asked finally, pulling his gaze back to her face.

"I—" He paused, frowned and then took her arm and said, "We should go to the gardens and—"

"Nay." Annella tugged her arm from his grasp when he tried to urge her away from the table. Frowning with concern now, she

asked, "What's happened?"

Payton glanced around with a scowl, and then muttered, "We really should talk in private, Nella. I have grim tidings and—"

Her eyes widened with dismay. "Grim tidings? What kind of—? No one has died, have they?" she interrupted herself to ask with

alarm.

The way Payton's mouth compressed suggested she had guessed right.

"Da?" she asked, her voice weak. Her father was an amazing warrior, strong and skilled, but even the strong and skilled could

take an unlucky blow.

"Nay," Payton said quickly, reaching for her arm again. "Come, we—"

"Ma?" she asked with horror, stepping back from him to avoid his hand.

"Nay, Mither is fine," he assured her soothingly, but that merely increased her horror.

"No' wee Kenna," she begged. "She's so young. No' e'en wed yet. She—"

"Our sister is fine," Payton said firmly.

Annella sagged where she stood, relief rolling over her like a warm breeze. Her parents and siblings were the most important

people in her life. That they were all alive and well was wondrous. In fact, she couldn't really think of anyone else who—

"Cousin Jo!"

"Nay," Payton said, beginning to sound impatient. "Annella, I really must insist ye come outside and—"

"Just tell me who the devil died, Payton," she snapped impatiently. "I've been up all night tending to one person or another,

am exhausted and cranky, and ye're just making me—"

"'Tis William," he shot out, his shoulders straightening and chin lifting as if bracing himself for something.

Annella stared at him blankly. "William who?"

"William Gunn," Payton said quietly, sympathy filling his face at first. But when she continued to stare at him blankly, some

of that sympathy slipped away and he prompted in a soft, grim voice, "Yer husband."

Annella blinked at those words. Her husband? Her husband, William Gunn, was dead? For a moment, her mind was completely silent,

and then a small burble of laughter slipped from her lips and she punched her brother in the arm in the same way she had when

they were children. "For heaven's sake, Payton! You scared me silly with yer nonsense about grim tidings and someone dying.

Why, this news is no grim at all. Good Lord."

Grabbing him by the ears, she pulled his head down until it was even with hers and bussed him on the cheek with a noisy, sloppy kiss. Still holding him by the ears, she then pulled back and said, "That's because I love and have missed ye." She gave him another wet one on his other cheek, and then pulled back to add, "And that's for bringing me such grand good news."

She added a quick peck to the tip of his nose when she saw the mingled shock and dismay on his face, then released him with

a chuckle and said, "Thank ye, brother."

Payton stared at her briefly, his eyes wide with horror, and then growled, "Annella MacKay Gunn. How could you say such things

about your husband? What kind o' wife thinks her husband's death is grand good news?"

Annella's eyes narrowed at the accusation in his tone. Propping her hands on her hips, she growled right back, "What kind

of husband marries a lass, dumps her in what is to be their shared chamber, and then flees the keep in the middle o' the night

to go on a ‘pilgrimage' that lasts six years ?"

Payton looked uncomfortable, but muttered, "Lots of men go on pilgrimages to the holy lands."

"Since my husband took the village lightskirts with him, I somehow doubt there was anything holy about his pilgrimage ," Annella said sarcastically and then glanced over the three men behind—and apparently with—her brother. The shorter one and the one with the ponytail were looking shocked and glancing worriedly from her to the last man, who was staring at her hard. He was the tallest of the four of them, having perhaps an inch on her brother. He also had just a touch more muscle than her brother. Not much, barely even noticeable really, but she was noticing. She was also noticing that while he was as dusty and dirt covered as the others from travel, it was doing nothing to hide the fact that he was an incredibly handsome man. Who was starting to frown, she saw, and Annella turned back to her brother, one eyebrow cocked in question.

Payton sighed unhappily. "Sister, meet Graeme Gunn, William's brother."

Annella's eyes widened slightly as those words snapped through her. Damn. The second son, born between William and Dauid.

The warrior. She felt a brief bite of regret for speaking so plainly about her husband, this man's brother, but there was

really nothing to do about it now. She couldn't, and even wouldn't, take back her words. Each one had been true, so she merely

gave him a solemn nod, and murmured, "My condolences, m'laird." She didn't wait to see his reaction, but simply headed for

the stairs, saying, "I'll go pack."

"Pack?" Payton sounded surprised. "For what?"

"For the journey home," she said, and then paused and swung back to survey him briefly. "Do no' fret. I ken you have just

arrived and no doubt are in need of a bath and good sleep ere you head out again, but that's fine. 'Twill be good to have

a day or two to pack and say me goodbyes before we go."

Nodding with satisfaction at that, she turned away again and continued on, saying, "Break your fast. I'll have rooms readied

for the four of ye."

"My apologies, Graeme."

Graeme pulled his gaze away from Annella's retreating figure and glanced to her brother at those words.

"My sister should not have—"

Graeme waved him to silence. He wasn't interested in the man's apology for his sister's words. "Did William really leave on

their wedding night?"

Payton's eyebrows rose. "You did not know?"

Graeme shook his head slowly as he recalled the wedding of his brother to his pretty young bride. "I left shortly after the

feast. Symon and Teague had made camp on the edge o' Gunn land and were waiting fer me. We had taken on a job with the Stewarts

and had to ride hard to reach the rendezvous point at the agreed time."

"Oh." Payton frowned slightly, and then sighed and said, "Aye. William was gone when everyone got up the morn after the wedding.

He'd left a note that he was heading off on a pilgrimage." Payton paused briefly before adding, "There were rumors whispered

around the keep that some lass from the village... Maisie, I think the name was, was missing and that someone had seen

her riding off with William in the middle o' the night."

"His wedding night," Graeme murmured thoughtfully and then speared Payton with hard eyes. "And he's been gone all this time?"

Payton's eyebrows rose slightly. "You did not ken that either?"

"Nay. I've no' been back at Gunn since the wedding, and ye did no' mention how long he'd been missin' when ye approached me to join the search fer him," Graeme pointed out. "I just assumed he'd left at some point this last year or mayhap the one before." He shook his head. "I find it hard to believe me parents waited six years ere sendin' a search party out fer him. Especially me mither. William was her favorite."

"It was no' your mother who arranged for us to search for William," Payton said solemnly. "It was me da."

When Graeme's gaze sharpened on him, Payton nodded firmly.

"The only reason he did not do so sooner was because he assumed your father must already have men out hunting fer him. It's

when me da came here to question yers on what news there was, and yer mother told him that no search had been mounted that

he sent me to find and invite ye to join me and our men in the search. He thought a member of yer family should be involved,

and at first Dauid was unwilling." He paused briefly and then added, "Which is why I was so surprised when we arrived at MacDonald

and he was there with you."

Graeme nodded. He, Symon and Teague had just finished a job for the MacDonald and were camping their last night on MacDonald

land when his brother had arrived. Dauid had obviously ridden hard to reach them. He'd barely blurted a rather garbled story

about William being missing and a need to search for him before falling asleep. Graeme had intended to question him further

the next morning, but Payton and his men had ridden into camp just as Graeme and the others were rising to greet the day and

he hadn't had the chance.

"When I told you we were heading out to look for yer brother William who was missing and you said ye kenned, Dauid had told ye, I just assumed he'd told you all," Payton said apologetically.

"Nay," Graeme murmured. "He did no' mention how long William had been gone."

When Payton just grunted at that, Graeme smiled faintly. He knew the man didn't like his younger brother. He didn't blame

him. Dauid had grown spoiled, arrogant and annoying as hell over the decade since Graeme had left Gunn. He had been nothing

but a trial during the last six months, which was why the minute they'd got off the ship that had brought them back to Scotland,

Graeme, Symon, Teague and Payton had left Dauid in charge of the men guarding the wagon carrying William's bones and ridden

on ahead.

Since the wagon moved slowly, he expected it would be at least four or five days before the traveling party arrived, his younger

brother with it, and they could lay William's bones to rest.

A William who had, apparently, abandoned his bride and ridden out to seek adventure with the village lightskirts.

Graeme scowled as the thought went through his mind. It just did not fit with the man he'd known his brother to be. Shaking

his head, he moved back to his seat at the table, grabbed up his watered ale and gulped down some of it as he considered what

he'd learned.

William had been missing for six years and his parents hadn't bothered to send out anyone to try to find him? Graeme was having serious trouble accept ing that. William had been clan chief here. His father had stepped down and passed on the title to him the week before the wedding. Gaufrid Gunn had never enjoyed the work needed to run the castle and its people, and had decided, since William was marrying, he should be laird as well. Which made it even harder for Graeme to accept that no one had gone out to look for William ere this. Hell, if he'd known his brother had been missing all this time, he would have gone in search of him himself years ago. And why the hell had a messenger not been sent to inform him?

"I suppose I should talk to Annella ere she gets too far in her packing."

Pulled from his thoughts, Graeme glanced to the man who had settled in the seat beside him and raised an eyebrow in question.

Payton shrugged and pointed out, "Well, she's a Gunn by marriage. She can't just hie off home to MacKay without the clan chief's

permission." He frowned slightly, and then added, "And she can't get permission until the next clan chief is named. I'm assuming

that would be you?"

Graeme straightened slightly in his seat. He'd been told from a young age that his older brother would inherit Gunn castle and the title of laird that went with it, while he would gain nothing and would either needs must become a priest or find some other way to make his way in the world. Graeme had never seen himself as a priest. Spending his life on his knees praying the day away... nay, that hadn't been for him. He wasn't a very pious man. But he was a hell of a soldier. He could wield a sword with deadly skill. So, he'd chosen work as a mercenary and had spent more than ten years knee-deep in bodies and blood, battling his way around the world. He'd even enjoyed it. At least for the first several years. The camaraderie of the soldiers as they sat around a fire of a night telling their tales of the fearsome battles they'd fought in. The thrill of winning fight after fight. The coin he'd made with his hard work...

But all of that had begun to lose its luster the last couple of years. The camaraderie had been lessened by the growing number

of new faces replacing the mercenaries who had been lost over time. The stories had begun to all sound the same. Even the

thrill of victory had waned a bit. As for the coin he made... Well, all he was doing was storing that away. A man didn't

need much coin to sleep on the ground rolled up in his plaid and follow whoever hired him into battle. He now probably had

enough to build his own manor, if not a keep. He just didn't have the land to put it on.

Aye. He'd tired of battle. Ten years of killing was long enough. Mayhap he would take up the mantle and become laird of Gunn. The only problem with that was that he'd then be expected to marry and produce

heirs. Graeme didn't have much interest in that.

It wasn't that Graeme didn't like women. He did. Very much. And he would like a son or two. But a marriage had never been contracted for him or Dauid when they were children as had been done for William. His parents hadn't felt it necessary since neither of them would be laird. So, he'd have to find and woo his own bride... which might be a problem. Unfortunately, he'd spent so long in the company of men that he'd quite forgotten how he should act around a lady. He also definitely didn't have the patience to deal with their weaker natures and simpering ways.

An image of Annella slamming a pot over Raynard's head flashed through his mind, followed by her cussing and bellowing at

the injured man ere that, and a small smile slid across his lips. Now there was a lady he wouldn't mind dealing with. Despite

all Payton had claimed these last six months, his sister was no weak, weeping female. She was strong and no-nonsense, and

really quite fetching even with her hair a mess, streaks of blood on her cheek and exhaustion hanging around her like a cloak.

Annella was a woman he might be able to woo.

"Well? Are ye the laird now that William is dead?" Payton asked, sounding impatient.

"We shall see," Graeme said mildly and stood up to head for the stairs. His parents had yet to make an appearance and he would

speak with them. He would give them the sad tidings of William's death. Once that was done and they had recovered from the

news, he would bring up who was to be the next clan chief. By rights it should be him, but Dauid had avoided talk of home

these last six months and he had no idea what had been going on since the wedding.

It was possible his father had reclaimed the title of laird after William's leaving and might not be willing to give it up

again. That didn't seem likely since he'd happily abandoned it six years ago, but it was still possible.

If his father had stepped in to take up the job of laird again in William's absence and was ready to be done with it, he would take on the job, Graeme decided. Then he would spend some time getting to know Annella better to see if they would deal well together. He suspected they would. He liked what he'd seen so far. He definitely found her appealing enough that he was sure he would enjoy her in his bed, and he'd liked what he'd seen of her spunk and no-nonsense attitude in dealing with the injured man. If they got on as well as he suspected they would, he'd then try to convince her to remain at Gunn and be his wife. It would save him having to hunt up and woo a bride.