Chapter 11

"Are yer hands troublin' ye? Should I put some fresh salve on?"

Annella glanced up with surprise at that question from Florie, and then looked down to see that she was rubbing one cloth-covered

hand over the other. Her expression became something of a grimace as she peered at the white clubs her hands now resembled.

Her brother's skill at binding a wound left much to be desired. Unfortunately, Florie had taken one look at the bloody wound

on Graeme's head and had nearly dropped the pitchers and mugs she carried on the bedside table, before fleeing the room making

heaving sounds. She really had a problem with blood.

Sadly, the maid's defection had left Teague and her brother to tend to their wounds. Teague had actually done a fine job of cleaning Graeme's head wound, applying salve and wrapping linen around his head. He'd obviously tended to such tasks before. Annella supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Working as mercenaries, the men must have encountered and even received a lot of different wounds. She guessed it would have been more surprising had they not gained any skills in that area after ten years at war.

Payton, however, had never worked as a mercenary. He had spent the last several years laboring next to their father at MacKay,

learning all he would need to know to run the castle and clan when their father retired or died and he took on the job. All

of which meant that her brother had absolutely no skill in the healing arts. Hence, why her hands looked like they belonged

on one of those fabled mummies they supposedly had in the far-off land of Egypt.

Sighing, she let her hands drop back to her lap and said, "Nay. 'Tis fine, thank ye, Florie."

When the maid nodded and returned her attention to the cloth she was sewing, Annella glanced at her brother. A smile began

to tug at her lips as she took in the expression of deep concentration on his face as he cut the cloth Florie had given him

to work on. Honestly, he looked like a lad learning his numbers and—The thought died, her mouth suddenly turning down into

a scowl as she noticed that he had lowered his injured leg so that his foot rested on the floor. Again.

"Leg up," she ordered sharply. Thanks to his carrying her around and having to put weight on his sore ankle, Payton's injury

was as bad as it had been directly after he was hurt. He needed to keep it elevated.

Grumbling under his breath about bossy sisters and other things she didn't catch, Payton raised his leg and again rested his

foot on the small table she'd had Florie set before him to use to keep his leg elevated.

Sighing, Annella glanced around the solar. Her gaze skated over the bolts of cloth stacked against the far wall. Not for the first time, she thought how fortunate it was that Graeme had ordered them removed to the solar. He'd set men to the task the afternoon of the fire. He'd said it was because he thought the light was better in the solar for them to work on her gowns. The truth, however, was that he'd grown tired of tripping over the bolts of cloth stacked all around their bedchamber. Annella hadn't cared why he'd given the order, she'd just been glad to get them out, especially after the fire. As annoyed as she was with her husband for spending so much coin on the cloth, she would have been ready to kill someone had the expensive cloth gone up in flames.

Shifting abruptly in her seat, Annella peered down at her hands again. They were useless stumps at the moment. She couldn't

even cut cloth like Payton, let alone sew. And she had no idea how she was meant to eat, something that was presently on her

mind because she'd had naught but a couple of sips of honey mead that morning when she'd gone below to break her fast. Not

because she hadn't been hungry, but because Annella simply hadn't known how she could possibly eat the bread and cheese that

had been on offer. Picking up her mug had been hard enough. Food had seemed impossible. She'd have to sort it out at the nooning,

however, because her stomach was aching in a most unpleasant manner to let her know it was empty and unhappy with that state.

Deciding she needed to do something to distract herself from her hunger, Annella stood abruptly and headed for the solar door.

"Where are ye going?"

Pausing halfway across the room, Annella turned back, noting that while it had been sheer boredom that had driven him to offer

to help with cutting out panels for the dress Florie was working on, he appeared to be doing a fine job of it. The realization

made her smile as she answered his question.

"I was just going to check on Gaufrid," Annella explained, mentioning Graeme's father. Although the truth was that she really

wanted to check on the women she'd set to the task of tending him and make sure all was well and that they didn't need anything.

"I'll go with ye," Payton said eagerly, setting aside the cloth he'd been working on.

"There's no need to trouble yerself," Annella said with a frown of concern as he reached for the staff with a cross piece

at the top that she had given him to assist in getting around.

"Aye, there is," Payton insisted, using the crutch to help him get to his feet and then shifting it under his right arm to

aid him in walking. "Someone tried to poison you and yer husband last night, Nella. Then set yer bedchamber on fire with you

in it. Ye're no' to be without someone to watch over ye until we sort out who is behind these attacks."

"Never mind," Annella said with irritation as she moved away from the door. She wouldn't go if he insisted on accompanying

her. He really needed to stay off the leg for it to heal.

"Are ye sure?" Payton definitely sounded disappointed. Apparently, she wasn't the only one slowly going crazy being stuck

in this room.

"Aye. I'll check later," Annella said at once, moving back to her seat.

"No' alone. Ye can no' be alone until this is resolved," he reminded her solemnly.

As if she'd forget that, Annella thought with annoyance as she sat down. After a moment of just sitting there bored, she decided

to go through the events of the night before. Perhaps something would stand out to her that would help them solve this issue.

What seemed to strike her most clearly was how lucky they'd been. Of course, having someone who wanted you dead and was actively

trying to bring about that result was not good luck, but everything else had been, to her mind. First, she'd recognized the

smell of the poison among the sweeter notes of her beverage and had not drunk it. Second, while Graeme had taken a gulp, he'd

managed to bring it back up.

Of course, Annella hadn't been sure whether they'd been quick enough at the time, and had spent the rest of the meal eyeing him warily and asking how he felt. Not that they'd gone ahead to eat right away after that. First, Graeme had had her check the beverages of the other men at the high table to be sure their drinks had not also been dosed with the poison. Once assured that the drinks of the others appeared fine, he'd turned his attention to questions about who had brought or been near his ale and her mead. When no one seemed to recall seeing anyone near their drinks ere they'd joined everyone at table, Cook had been brought out and questioned. Unfortunately, she'd not been able to shed any light on the situation either. She'd been busy with meal preparations and knew nothing of the beverages. Neither had the servant in charge of the buttery.

Finding no satisfaction, Graeme and the men had begun to discuss who might wish her and him dead. When they hadn't managed

to sort that out, they'd moved on to discussing what should be done in light of this attempt. Having retired, Annella had

missed that part of the conversation, but the end result was apparently that Payton was to keep her close, while Teague and

Symon would trail Graeme around. The attempt to burn them alive had not changed that decision.

Of course, Payton wasn't the only one guarding her. There were presently two soldiers standing guard outside the door to the

solar who also would have followed her to Laird Gaufrid's room, had she gone.

Sighing, Annella shifted in her chair. She was restless now and also worried. She had no more idea who could have put the

poison in their drinks than the men did, but whoever it was had either been unskilled or so serious in their determination

to see them dead that they'd taken the risk of the scent giving away the attempt. Had they used a lesser amount of the poison,

she never would have smelled it. But the larger the dose the quicker the reaction, and the more likely the result would be

death. That was another bit of luck for them. Neither of them had suffered for it. At least she hadn't, and Graeme had claimed

that he was fine.

Then there was the fire. They'd been very lucky to escape it with the few injuries they had. Despite how annoying she found the state of her hands and the wrapping on them, Annella knew it could have been so much worse. Aye, so far, they'd survived two murder attempts with little issue. That didn't mean they would next time though... if another attempt was made.

Scowling, Annella stood and paced to the window. After years of rushing about running everything at Gunn, sitting about doing

nothing was grating on her. Added to that, she was extremely annoyed that she couldn't continue working on the gowns she'd

planned to make. She needed several new gowns if she was to visit her family, and Florie working alone with the little help

Payton could offer meant it would take forever.

Perhaps she should set several servants to the task to help Florie, Annella considered. Or even hire some villagers to the

task. The thought made her scowl as she realized she'd have to ask Graeme for the coin to do that. Something else that made

her want to grind her teeth. Annella was the one who had been in charge of the coin prior to this. Now Graeme held the purse

strings, and she had to ask him ere spending a single coin.

Her gaze narrowed suddenly as it caught on a soldier riding slowly across the bailey toward the front gate with a sac hanging

from his saddle. It looked like—

"Is that Raynard?" Florie asked, making her aware that the maid had joined her at the window.

"It looks like it," Annella acknowledged, her gaze narrowing on the man. He shouldn't really be riding. He was well enough now that he could be up and about so long as he didn't overdo it, but she had continued to order him to stay abed and told Angus to keep one man with him at all times to ensure he did as ordered and didn't drink. While some walking and movement would have been fine, bouncing around on horseback was not. Even the slow walk would need him to use stomach muscles better not tested until he was completely healed. However, a trot, canter or gallop could cause serious damage at this point.

"I wonder where he's goin'," Florie murmured with curiosity, and then asked, "Should he be ridin' yet?"

"Nay," Annella growled and whirled to head for the door. This time she didn't bother to answer her brother when he asked where

she was going. Leaving him scrambling for his crutch, she stormed out of the room. The two men set to guard her immediately

straightened from where they'd leaned against the wall on either side of the door and rushed to follow on her heels as she

hurried for the stairs. Annella ignored them. Her mind was flying this way and that as she tried to sort out where the devil

Raynard was going and why.

"Mayhap we've been lookin' at this the wrong way."

Graeme tore his gaze away from the men battling in the practice field and glanced at Symon at that comment. Arching one eyebrow

in question, he asked, "What mean ye by that?"

"Well, instead o' tryin' to figure out who might want ye dead, mayhap we should be lookin' into who would benefit if ye and yer lady wife were to die," he suggested.

Graeme considered that as he turned his attention back to the men. He'd been overseeing the men at battle-practice since becoming laird. He needed to know what skills there were among his men to use them effectively. While he'd started out just watching them practice attacking each other with whatever weapons they chose, more than a week ago he'd begun having them use different weapons each day to see which they were best at. First, he'd had them all battle with swords, then the mace, then the battle axe, followed by a day each for the spear, lance, crossbow, longbow and, today, daggers.

Today, however, he was having difficulty keeping his attention on the men. Instead, his mind was taken up with the murder

attempts on him and Annella. He knew it was on Teague's and Symon's minds as well. They'd been talking about who would have

gotten away with dosing their drinks at the table, or setting already dosed drinks there. A servant had been the only answer,

but what servant would want him and Annella dead? Now Symon was approaching the problem from a different direction... and

a good one too, he thought, and murmured, "Aye."

All three men nodded and considered the matter, and then Teague pointed out, "Dauid would become laird did ye die."

"Aye, but he's sweet on Lady Annella," Symon argued. "He'd ne'er poison her."

"Nay, ye're right," Teague agreed with a disappointed sigh.

Graeme glanced at his friends sharply. "Me brother is sweet on me wife?"

Symon raised his eyebrows in surprise and then glanced to Teague, before saying, "Did ye no' notice how he went on about how brave and brilliant she was when we sat around the fire of a night on the journey to find William?"

Teague nodded. "All he seemed able to talk about was Payton's sister."

"Aye, but that's because Payton was asking after her," Graeme said with a small frown. In his mind he remembered Payton asking

questions about his sister and then Dauid answering. Graeme had usually lost interest in the conversation rather quickly after

that and let it fade from his awareness as he sharpened his sword, cleaned and oiled his saddle or carried on various other

necessary tasks of a night.

"Aye, Payton would ask a question about her," Teague agreed. "But usually just the one, and that was enough to have Dauid

going on fer hours about how smart, strong and beautiful she was."

"Aye," Symon agreed. "'Twas obvious he more than admired her."

"Actually, I'm surprised he did no' kick up a fuss when he learned ye married her while he was abed," Teague commented. "And

if the poison had been in only yer drink, I'd ha'e bet on it being Dauid behind it. But since 'twas in both beverages, it

can no' be him."

Graeme was scowling at this when a shout drew his gaze toward the stables. For one moment, he was confused at what he was seeing. Two soldiers were running toward a rider even now exiting the stables at a trot that quickly became a canter as horse and rider passed the two almost panicked men, headed for the drawbridge. The guards immediately gave up the chase and rushed into the stables, shouting for horses to follow their "Lady."

Cursing, Graeme headed for the stables at a run.

Much to Annella's relief, Raynard was keeping his mount to a trot and not a canter or gallop... either of which could have

done his injury serious damage. Unfortunately, a trot was not much better for his wound, and she'd been determined to get

to him and stop his ridiculous ride as quickly as she could. However, while Annella had been quick about making her way out

of the keep and across the bailey to the stables, talking her guards into helping her onto her mare's back and then tying

her reins around her bandaged hands for her so they could ride out after Raynard had taken much longer. The two men hadn't

felt it was safe for her to ride her horse, let alone be outside the walls. They'd argued long and hard against both before

giving in to her demands. Too long. Aware that every moment could be doing more damage to Raynard, Annella hadn't had the

patience to then wait for the men. The moment they'd started away to collect and ready their own mounts, she'd ridden out

of the stables, headed for the gate.

Annella felt somewhat bad about that, but knew the men would catch up quickly. She was more concerned with Raynard and his

health. He had almost reached the far end of the large cleared area between the castle's outer walls and the woods by the

time she caught up to him.

"Where are we going?" Annella asked pleasantly once her horse was next to his.

Raynard glanced to her with a start. While he must have heard her galloping up to him, he obviously hadn't expected whoever was approaching to be Annella. He gave her a fierce scowl for her trouble, and then turned to face forward, saying nothing.

"Ye would no' be ignorin' yer lady, would ye, Raynard?" she asked, still keeping her tone deceptively pleasant.

"Ye're no' me lady anymore, m'lady. Yer husband, the laird, cast me out."

Annella was so stunned at this news that she unintentionally jerked on her reins. They immediately tightened painfully around

her bandaged hands. Though, judging by the mare's sound of protest, and the way she stiffened and jerked her head up and back,

Annella's hands weren't the only thing to suffer discomfort from the abrupt action. Recalled to the situation, she quickly

leaned forward and murmured soothingly as she ran one bandaged hand down the mare's neck to calm her. Then she had to urge

her to move more quickly to catch up to Raynard again.

"Why did he cast ye out?" Annella asked the moment she was beside him once more.

"Said ye do no' need a useless drunkard at Gunn," he growled.

Her mouth tightened. "Were ye drinkin' again?"

"No' since ye sewed me up," he said almost resentfully.

Annella sighed unhappily. Her husband was the most infuriating—

"Wife!"

She glanced around with amazement, thinking it was as if her thoughts had brought him to her. Graeme was still a good twenty feet back, but closing the distance quickly, with four men not far behind. Squinting, she managed to recognize her two guards and Teague and Symon, Graeme's friends, but also—whether he liked it or not—his guards until they sorted out the business of who had tried to poison them.

Mouth compressed, she waited for Graeme to reach them and then demanded, "Tell Raynard to get back to the castle." Her husband

first looked surprised and then glowered at her for the order. "Nay. He's a drunkard and a—"

"And ye're a new laird who has been away fer a decade, kens not what goes on here and does no' have the sense in his head

to ask," she snapped.

"The devil I ha'e!" he barked in surprise at the attack.

Annella clucked with irritation and pointed out, "Ye damned near started a war with our allies because ye could no' be bothered

to ask questions."

Discomfort crossed Graeme's face and he muttered, "I ha'e admitted that was a mistake and I should ha'e talked to Angus to—"

Furious that he still thought he should talk to Angus and not her, Annella continued over him, "Ye removed yer mother and

her maid from yer father's chamber—"

"O' course I did! She was makin' ye and me da miserable," Graeme protested, outraged.

"Aye, she was, and surely yer father and I would have been grateful that ye had her removed, except that ye did no' then have

the wit to replace her and her maid properly to tend to yer da."

"Bea was already there to tend him," Graeme countered quickly. "She was there ere I sent me mother and her maid to the cottage, and has been there every time I've visited me da since."

"Aye. Bea. A lone woman. On her own. With no right or way to send fer strong men to help when she needed it," Annella pointed

out with exasperation. "Were ye expecting her to stay in his chamber day and night, hefting yer father o'er her shoulder to

carry him to the tub to bathe? Or to a chair whilst she changed his bedding? Or to get him on the bedpan?"

"Er..." Realization battled with dismay on Graeme's face, but Annella wasn't done.

"And do no' let us forget the ridiculous amount o' coin ye wasted buying every last strip o' blasted cloth the cloth merchant

had in his wagon."

"I thought to please ye," he growled quietly. "Ye need new gowns."

"Aye. I do. But I do no' need a whole wagon full o' cloth to do it." Annella shook her head with disgust. "Did ye e'en look

at the cloth ere ye purchased it? Half is so ugly I would no' make an enemy wear it." Renewed fury flowing through her now,

she bellowed, "Do ye ken how long it took me to build up the coins in Gunn's coffers to a point that we would no' starve should

drought hit us? And then ye just throw it about like yer father did ere ye, depleting our coffers for naught."

She saw the shock on his face, but was on a roll. "And now ye've seen fit to cast Raynard out? Without kenning a thing about him, or the circumstances behind—" Annella's words ended on a gasp as he suddenly leaned over to tug the tied reigns from her bandaged hands, then pulled her from her horse to his.

"Escort Raynard back to the castle!" Graeme barked and then set his horse to gallop for the trees.

Annella looked over her husband's shoulder as he carried her off, not surprised to see that the men were surrounding Raynard,

but just sitting arguing as they watched Graeme ride off with her. She had no doubt they were disagreeing with leaving them

unguarded and debating whether to obey his order or follow them. When the men finally turned toward the castle, she shook

her head and thought, so much for their being guarded. Apparently, it was only her they thought needed protection and so long

as Graeme was with her, they would let her be. Although, if she was to be honest, she didn't really mind. It was a relief

to be free of being trailed about for a bit.

Sighing, she sagged in Graeme's lap and glanced with curiosity in the direction they were going. They were almost breaking

through to the clearing where they'd had their first picnic before Annella recognized where he was taking her. She stilled

at once in his arms, confusion rife within her. Her body was recalling the pleasure he'd given her on that picnic when he'd

taken her maidenhead. She nearly melted into him then, but her mind was still angry as hell at the man for making decisions

and giving orders without first looking into matters.

She was still trying to sort out how to react when he bent to ease her to the ground, then followed her down. Annella stood where he'd set her and watched silently as he tied his mount to the same branch of the same tree they'd tied the reins of their horses to on their first visit here. She then eyed him warily when he turned and walked back to her.

When Graeme took her arm gently and walked her down to the river's side, Annella went reluctantly, and just as reluctantly

settled on the large boulder there that he urged her onto. She watched warily as he shifted to stand directly in front of

her, but then he spoke.

"It was a mistake fer me to wage war against the Morgans. Ye're right, I should ha'e asked around and found out more ere challengin'

them to battle."

Annella swallowed, but didn't comment.

"And I can see now that while me intention was good in removin' me ma from the castle, me execution o' that left much to be

desired. As soon as we get back, I shall ensure Bea has the help she needs."

"I already did," she said, her voice a little sharp.

"Thank ye." Graeme's voice was solemn.

Annella shifted a bit impatiently, but otherwise didn't react.

"Now," he went on, "I'll admit that in me eagerness to please ye, I may ha'e gone a bit o'erboard in purchasin' everything

the cloth merchant had. Howbeit, I promise I will find a use fer every scrap o' cloth ye do no' care to use."

Annella stared at him wide-eyed, not because of his vow to use every scrap of cloth she didn't use, but because of his claim

that he'd done it in an eagerness to please her. That was really rather sweet.

Unaware of what she was thinking, Graeme said, "But I'd appreciate it did ye explain this business about me da throwin' coins about, and our starvin' in a drought."

Annella closed her eyes briefly, and then opened them and explained, "From what I have been told, yer da did no' just give

up running Gunn to William on a whim. He hated the business o' managing and taking care o' everyone, and he was horrid at

it." She hesitated, but then simply said, "The Gunn coffers were completely empty when I took over."

"When I returned home to Gunn fer the wedding, I suspected that things here were no' as well as they should ha'e been, but

I had no' realized it was so bad," Graeme murmured, with a small frown, but then said, "Even so, I'm sure William told me

back then that ye had a large dower. He thought that was why our da was pushin' fer the weddin' to happen sooner rather than

later when yer parents wanted to wait another year. William felt sure our da wanted the coin to replenish the coffers."

"Aye. I'm sure that is why yer da was pushing to get the wedding done," Annella agreed. "Gunn needed the coin. But the coffers must have been light or even empty fer a while. There was much that needed repair here when I took over the task o' laird. The drawbridge had several areas where the wood was rotting, the curtain wall had holes, and loose stones, the keep roof had a leak, as did the chapel, and..." She waved one bandaged hand unhappily, not even wanting to think about everything she'd tended to. "By the first year's end, the coffers were near empty again, and I've spent the last five years since then slowly building them back up so that we would have enough coin to feed our people should drought or root rot hit and affect our crops."

"I see," he said solemnly. "I did no' ken."

"Nay, ye did no' ken. Even worse, ye did no' ask ," she snapped. "Ye have no asked me aught since taking over. Ye've just stomped about—"

"I used me own coin to pay fer the cloth, no' coin from Gunn's coffers," he interrupted her.

"Yer own coins?" Annella repeated with confusion.

"I've been a mercenary fer ten years, wife," he pointed out gently. "I've made a lot o' coin o'er the years. I also had little

to spend it on since me life was made up o' riding from battle to battle, sleepin' on the ground wrapped up in me plaid and

eating the gruel and oat cakes whichever laird we were battling for supplied us." He paused to let that sink in and then added,

"I saved a lot of coin."

"A lot?" she asked weakly.

"Aye," he assured her. "Now tell me about Raynard."

Annella blinked, her brain struggling with the subject change. She wanted to ask him how much a lot of coin was, but Raynard

was important too, so she let go of her questions and said, "He may be a drunk now, but Raynard was once one o' the finest

soldiers at Gunn. And not that long ago either."

Graeme's eyebrows went up. "Really?"

"Aye," she assured him. "Raynard was yer da's second when I arrived. He was then mine fer the last six years until this past winter. He was strong, brave, honorable and reliable. There was no' a man among the soldiers he did no' ken everything about, from their family to their skills in battle. And there was no question he did no' ken the answer to, or could no' find the answer to if he did no' ken right off."

"What happened this past winter?" Graeme asked solemnly, when she paused for breath.

Annella felt her throat tighten and tears sting the back of her eyes. She had to stop and force herself to swallow to clear

the way to get the words out. "His wife, Ella... She was me friend," she admitted, blinking her eyes rapidly to keep the

tears at bay. Glancing away, Annella cleared her throat and said quickly, "Their cottage caught on fire in the night. Ella

and their newborn bairn died while Raynard was patrolling the wall in the place o' one o' the other men who was feeling poorly.

He's felt guilty e'er since. Thinking if he'd set someone else to the task and been there, he might have saved them or..."

Sighing, she shook her head.

"He started drinkin' to drown his guilt and sorrow," Graeme said solemnly.

"Aye, but I'm hoping with a little more time..." She paused and shook her head, acknowledging if only to herself that she

was beginning to lose that hope. Pushing her thoughts aside, she continued quickly, "It's only been nine months. I'm sure

he'll soon—"

She stopped babbling when he suddenly tugged her up off the boulder and against his chest. Her husband then closed his arms

around her and simply held on. Annella closed her eyes, realizing only then that the tears she'd been trying to banish had

spilled over. Her cheeks were wet.

Graeme held her in silence for a long time, and continued to hold her when he finally said, "Ye're right. I've been marchin' about makin' quick decisions and tossin' out orders without first findin' out how things are usually done, who were allies, or anything else."

"'Tis what warriors do," Annella excused him. She was warm in his embrace, her nose twitching as she inhaled his lovely scent.

"There's no time to second-guess or ask advice in battle and ye've been knee-deep in battle fer a decade, so 'tis habit fer

ye to make quick decisions with what little information ye ha'e."

A soft rumble of laughter had his chest vibrating against her. "It sounds to me like yer makin' excuses fer me, wife."

Annella blinked her eyes open with surprise. She was making excuses for him. Good Lord, a minute ago she'd wanted nothing more than to rake him over the coals for stupidly neglecting

to simply ask questions, and now she was making up excuses for him?

"But I promise ye, I'll no' be so free with coin in the future, and will ask Angus ere makin' any decisions until I better

ken—Oomph!" he gasped out when she suddenly pulled back and kicked him in the leg.

Grabbing his shin, he gaped at her with amazement. "What the devil was that for?"

"For saying ye'd talk to Angus ere making decisions," Annella growled, furious all over again.

"Well, who else should I ask?" he snapped, surprise giving way to anger.

"Me, ye daft bastard! Ye should talk to me! I was laird here fer six years ere you, and I was damned good at it," she informed

him proudly.

"Aye. Angus said ye were as fine a laird as could be," Graeme admitted, his anger quickly fading.

"Then why would ye no' come to me?" Annella asked with frustration. "I mean that was the plan, was it no'? I was to stay to help ye take up the position o' laird so the transition would be smooth as possible. Yet, ye've no' only no' come to me with questions, ye say ye should have talked to Angus. Ye ken he worked fer me , do ye no'?"

Heaving out a sigh, Graeme straightened and pulled her against his chest again. Holding her there, he said, "When I arrived

ye'd been carrying the weight o' three different positions here at Gunn. Ye hadn't slept more than an hour or two in as many

nights and that was apparently a common occurrence. Yer people were so worried, they slipped a tincture into yer drink to

make ye sleep and refused to allow anyone to wake ye."

Annella jerked back in his arms, her eyes wide. "I kenned it," she said with disgust. "Who was it? I'll ha'e 'em flogged."

"Nay. Ye'll no'," he said with amusement, tugging her back against his chest. "Cause ye ken they did it out o' love and respect

and worry o'er yer well-being." When Annella didn't argue and relaxed against him, Graeme continued. "Besides, I was grateful

to them. Ye were so eager to leave Gunn, I suspect ye would ha'e left that day had they no' ensured ye slept through it."

Annella merely shrugged in his arms, because honestly, had she not slept through it, she probably would have left that day.

"I'm aware me family has failed ye something awful these last six years. Ye were an innocent and eager young bride when ye arrived, and a day later ye were suddenly responsible for everything and every livin' soul here at Gunn. Ye took on those tasks without complaint, workin' yerself to exhaustion, and yer reward, I've been told, was to be barraged with insults and accusations from me mother."

Annella nodded solemnly. She didn't know what any of this had to do with his not coming to her with questions or for aid in

his taking over as laird, but Eschina had been brutal with her insults. Constantly reminding her that William had found her

so lacking, he'd ridden off with the village lightskirt. A frown started to tug at her lips as she recalled something that

had been tickling at her mind since Graeme had told her he didn't believe his brother had run off with Maisie. Tilting her

head back, she asked, "Did they find Maisie's body with William's?"

Graeme's eyes widened slightly at the question, but then he shook his head slowly, his expression suddenly thoughtful. "Nay.

In fact, from what we learned, he was actually traveling with two other men."

"Men?" Annella asked with surprise. As far as she knew no other men had left Gunn the night her husband had supposedly ridden

off with Maisie.

"Aye. We stopped at every village, cottage or shack we encountered on the way to Jerusalem to ask after William. We followed several leads that led nowhere. 'Tis why it took us so long to return," he explained, before continuing, "But we were a half day's journey from Jerusalem and beginning to think we would have to return to Gunn empty-handed when we reached a village where we were told three Scots had arrived there some years ago. All three were so ill they had trouble remainin' in the saddle. They stopped there in search o' a healer to help them, but they had camp fever—typhoid," he added the proper term. "The village elders could do little. All three died and were buried together."

Graeme smiled crookedly, and then admitted, "We were lookin' for a man and a woman, so nearly did no' trouble ourselves to

dig these men up to check to be sure one o' them was no' William. But Dauid insisted we should, pointing out that William

may ha'e joined the two other men fer safety on the journey."

He shrugged. "In the end, he was right. They were buried almost on top o' each other. Teague, Symon, yer brother and I were

removing the first two skeletons, when Dauid suddenly cried out, jumped into the grave we'd uncovered and took a ring off

o' the third skeleton. 'Twas William's signet ring, given to him when he became laird."

Annella took a moment to digest that and then frowned. "I wonder what happened to Maisie?"

Graeme shook his head slowly. "She may no' ha'e left with him that night. I've asked around about it since ye told me that,

and from what I can tell no one recalls who claims to ha'e seen them leave together. I suspect 'twas just a rumor started

because they both went missin' the same night. She may ha'e just left on her own," he suggested. "Or mayhap she did ride out

with him, but simply to catch a ride to Aberdeenshire or one o' the other port cities."

"Or mayhap she was traveling with them but died and was buried along the trail ere they reached the village where the rest

o' them died," Annella murmured.

"Mayhap," Graeme acknowledged reluctantly, but then shook his head, his expression troubled. "I still find it hard to believe William ran off with her. It was no' in his nature to dally with lightskirts."

Annella smiled crookedly and then just shrugged. It no longer mattered to her what William had done or not done. While his

defection had shattered her childish dreams of a fairy-tale marriage and hopes of a love match like her parents enjoyed, the

truth was she hadn't known her first husband. The only thing he'd really hurt was her pride.

Her thoughts scattered when Graeme suddenly drew his arms from around her to clasp her face in his hands. Tipping her head

up, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, then her nose before straightening and saying solemnly, "I will ne'er leave ye and

run off with a lightskirt, or any other woman, lass. I'm happy to be wedded to ye, and willin' to do what I can to make this

union a good one."

Annella felt herself melt under the words and his solemn expression, and a small smile tilted her lips before they were covered

by his mouth claiming hers.