Chapter 17

Annella stood in the silence that fell over the room once Graeme pulled the panel shut, a little bewildered at why he'd gone

from passionate to surly so quickly. But then she was distracted by the sound of his footsteps moving away. She shouldn't

hear that. Frowning, she donned her sleeping gown as quickly as she could. She stepped into it and dragged it up over her

hips, then stopped to slide the hand on her injured side into the sleeve. Annella then gently tugged the gown up into place

on that side, before working her other arm into its sleeve as well.

Donning it like this was much easier than it would have been trying to pull it on over her head, and she was rather impressed

with herself for thinking of it. Of course, Annella couldn't tie the drawstring around the collar easily with only one hand,

but she did her best as she crossed to the entrance to the secret passage.

She wasn't surprised to find that the panel was cracked open. Annella had expected as much when she was able to hear Graeme moving away. In fact, she could still hear his footsteps in the distance. She glanced around briefly as she debated whether to close it properly or just leave it ajar for his return, but then paused as her gaze landed on her husband's plaid lying in a heap next to the bed where it had fallen.

Clucking her tongue in exasperation, Annella hurried back to the bed and snatched up the plaid. Graeme's belt and sheathed

sword hit the floor with a jangle and thud as she straightened with the cloth in hand. She stared at them with amazement.

The daft man had gone out without—not only his plaid, but—his bloody sword!

Muttering under her breath about the idiocy of men, Annella quickly hung his plaid around her neck to free the hand on her

good side and then picked up belt and sword. It was a bit tricky with one hand, and she had to be careful that the sheath

didn't slide off the belt as she did, but she managed it. Still muttering under her breath, she hurried to the panel. Annella

slid through the opening and peered along the passage just in time to see Graeme turn and start down the stairs at the end,

moving out of sight. She instinctively opened her mouth to call out after him that he'd forgotten his plaid and sword, but

then stopped herself. The sound of footsteps would not be heard in the rooms along the passage, but she wasn't sure if a shout

might be.

After the briefest debate with herself, she eased the panel shut and started toward the light still visible at the end of

the passage from his torch.

Annella had only taken two or three steps when a crack of light appeared at the far end of the passage nearer the stairs, then spread as another panel swung open into a room. She saw a figure briefly silhouetted in the opening, and then they stepped out with their back to her and pulled their panel closed. Whoever the person was, they were not carrying a torch of their own but seemed to be counting on the remnants of Graeme's torch to light their way. However, Graeme had got far enough ahead that the light that remained was dim and growing dimmer by the moment. The person now following her husband was little more than a silhouette to her, but it was enough to know that it was definitely a male.

Biting her lip, Annella hesitated, unsure what to do. She had intended to hurry after Graeme to give him his plaid and sword,

but the presence of the third person had her dithering long enough that her companion in that darkness reached the end of

the passage before she had decided. As he turned into the stairwell and started down, she caught the briefest glimpse of the

man in the last of the dim light that remained. Recognition had her nose wrinkling with distaste, and she turned to hurry

back the way she'd come.

Graeme would survive without his plaid and sword, she decided as she slid back into their bedchamber and eased the entrance

closed. Besides, he was the one who had left them there, and while he'd left in a rush, surely he'd noticed by now that he'd

left them behind? If not, it was his problem. As was Dauid, who was the figure that had stepped out to follow her husband.

Annella avoided her young brother-in-law as much as possible for a reason. She was not going to risk Dauid hearing her behind him and stopping to see who it was and then insisting on accompanying her. She'd be stuck with his calling her Nellie, casting calf eyes at her, and making his ridiculous vows to take care of her, keep her safe and never make her kick him in the shin. She loved her husband, but that didn't mean she would—

Annella paused. She loved him? No, she couldn't, she assured herself. How could she? They'd hardly spoken.

Although, she thought, her mother had once told her years ago that to know a body you must watch what they do rather than

listen to their words. She'd said 'twas easy to speak lies, whereas actions were more honest. Annella supposed if she were

to judge her husband that way, then he had done much to make her want to wring his neck. Honestly, she'd never met anyone

as frustrating as he was with his resistance to talking to her.

On the other hand, her mind argued, he'd brought her food when she'd missed the sup to tend to the blacksmith, which showed he was considerate. He'd also bought a wagonload of cloth just to please her, and with his own coin, she reminded herself as the annoyance she'd felt at the time tried to lay claim to her again. Whatever the case, Annella thought that action must prove he was generous. He'd stood and nearly got himself killed trying to protect her from Eschina with naught but a bloody stone, and that not long after she'd called Graeme an idiot and kicked him in the shin too, so he was obviously forgiving and brave. He'd also stayed by her side and tended to her for days when she was struck down by the arrow, which was surely kind and caring. He made the most amazing "pasties in the bedchamber," proving he was passionate and giving. Finally, he was presently on his way down to take a cold swim in the ice-cold waters of the river to cool his ardor rather than risk hurting her by doing what they both wanted and—

Wait, she'd called Graeme an idiot and kicked him in the shin.

Silence closed in on Annella's brain following that thought, and then was shattered when Dauid's voice sounded in her head:

" I want ye to ken, if the worst occurred, and something were to happen to Graeme, leaving me stuck ha'ing to run this place

with ye... Well, ye'd no' have to kick me in the shin like Graeme. I'm no' idiot. I'd be consultin' ye on everythin' and

anythin' o' import. I vow it. "

She'd called Graeme an idiot and kicked him in the shin in the clearing. Before they'd made love. Before Eschina had shot

her, and before Dauid had appeared and killed his own mother. How could Dauid know about that? She'd never told him, and was

quite sure Graeme wouldn't. How had Dauid known?

The answer seemed simple. He must have been there. But that meant he'd watched them fight, watched them make love and had

watched as his mother threatened to kill them. He'd only made his presence known and intervened when the old woman had actually

aimed her arrow at Annella.

Oh, now she was angry. She'd never liked Dauid, but this was just— He'd watched them make love in the clearing! Knowing that made her feel dirty.

Muttering under her breath about how her brother-in-law was a fustilugs and a dalcop who hid in bushes watching private moments,

she dropped the plaid on the bed. Annella then set to work donning Graeme's belt with the sheathed sword without hurting herself

more than she had to.

First, Annella laid the belt and sword along the edge of the bed. Then, she bent slightly to take the end with the buckle

in her right hand, straightened, turned slightly and reached behind with her left hand to grab the other end off the bed.

She drew that end around, slid it through the buckle, pulled it tight and tied it off. Unfortunately, she did have to move

her right hand some to manage the last bit, which pulled at the muscles along that side and hurt like the devil. But she just

gritted her teeth and bore it.

Breathing out with relief once she'd finished, and pleased with her own ingenuity, Annella picked up Graeme's plaid. She slung

that around her neck, then pulled on the end until both sides hung down her chest in almost equal lengths. Sadly, the plaid

was long enough it would drag on the ground and possibly trip her up, so she caught the ends and tucked them into the belt.

Satisfied she'd done her best, she returned to the mantel and pushed the stones to open the panel. Annella was taking Graeme

his plaid and sword so that he could kill his disgusting, repulsive, immoral little brother. Or at least beat him senseless.

"Did ye come here to kill me, or hide in the bushes all night?" Graeme asked as he finished rinsing himself off in the river and began to wade out. His gaze slid around the clearing as he moved. Between the light of the full moon bouncing off the water and the torch he'd stuck into the dirt next to the large boulder on the left of the clearing, the area was well lit up. Still, he hadn't yet spotted where his brother was. When he reached shore with no response to his question, he said, "I ken ye're there, Dauid."

The silence continued for a moment, and then there was a rustling to his left. Looking that way, he spotted the leaves of

a bush moving. It wasn't far from the boulder where he'd set the torch. A moment later, Dauid pushed his way out, stopped

next to the large boulder and quickly brushed himself down. He then straightened and met his gaze. "How did ye ken I was here?"

"Because ye followed me out o' the passages," Graeme said easily.

"Ye knew I was followin' ye that far back?" he asked with dismay.

"I first heard ye behind me on the stairs. I could no' be sure it was you then, but knew I was bein' followed."

Dauid's mouth tightened, his expression becoming resentful. "Ye should ha'e stayed where ye were, being a mercenary and fightin'

battles. Ye ne'er wanted to be laird. Why the devil did ye take the title? 'Twas mine! I was meant to be laird."

Graeme considered him solemnly, then said, "So this is no' about Annella?"

"O' course it's about Nellie!" he roared furiously. "I have loved her since the first time I saw her the day she arrived here. She was beautiful and sweet and good, and she was so kind to me." His expression had softened as he said that, but it twisted with bitterness now. "William did no' deserve her. He did no' e'en consummate their marriage. All he did was say she must be tired, kiss her forehead, cut his hand and rub it on the bed linens so everyone would think he'd done his duty."

"Ye were watchin' them from the passage," Graeme guessed. That was the only way Dauid could know what had happened in the

bedchamber that night.

"Aye. I could hardly believe it when he hopped out of bed and started gatherin' the clothes we'd stripped from him during

the bedding ceremony. But once he'd collected them all and began to dress, I kenned he was leavin' the room, and would ha'e

to do it usin' the passages. He could no' go back down to the feast. Da would ha'e sent him right back to his wife," Dauid

pointed out. "His only option was the passages. So, I hurried back to me room, slipped inside and kept the entrance cracked

to watch fer him. Then I followed him, as I did you tonight."

Graeme's eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak for fear of bringing an end to his brother's words.

"Do ye ken what the bastard did? He went straight to that whore, Maisie!" Dauid told him with fury. "He had a goddess in his

bed, and he abandoned her to run to that puterelle." His brother shook his head with disgust. "I could no' let that insult

stand. Nellie deserves better." Sliding his dagger from his belt, he added, "She deserves better than you too."

"I'm sure she does," Graeme said mildly, and then just as calmly added, "It was no' William's body we found outside the village near Jerusalem?"

Dauid shook his head. "Nay. I brought the ring with me and just pretended to find it in that grave."

"I'm guessin' he did no' just gi'e ye the laird's ring," Graeme said, still keeping his voice mild and unaffected.

"Nay. I killed him outside Maisie's cottage when he came out." Holding the dagger in his right hand, Dauid rested the tip

of it on the pad of the forefinger of his left, and said conversationally, "I only meant to kill him . But Maisie heard him fall and came out to see what had happened, so I had to kill her too."

"Where are their bodies?" Graeme asked, watching him twirl the knife against his finger.

"Buried no' too far from here," Dauid admitted. "I used the passages to bring William out. I had to carry him over me shoulder

from her cottage to the passage entrance at the wall. Then I stripped his surcoat off to switch fer me own, fetched a horse

to her cottage, dragged Maisie up before me and rode out with her."

"Startin' the rumors that William rode off with her," Graeme said on a sigh. Annella had been crushed to think that her husband

had run off with the lightskirt, and all because of Dauid.

"Aye." Dauid smiled at his own cleverness, and then shrugged. "Really, though, I needed the horse to carry William through

the last o' the passages and out to where I could bury him and Maisie. It would ha'e been difficult havin' to cart them both

out through the tunnels o'er me shoulder and on foot one after the other."

"Aye," Graeme agreed grimly, and then asked, "When did ye write the message supposedly from William, claimin' he was headin' off on pilgrimage?"

"After I'd buried them and cleaned up in the river here," he responded.

"Ye would ha'e done better to bury only Maisie and try to make William's death look like an accident so his body could be

found and his death known," Graeme pointed out in uncaring tones as he walked to a tree on his right, where he'd hung his

shirt over a branch to keep it off the ground.

"Aye," Dauid agreed, his tone wary as he watched him.

Facing him with the shirt in hand, Graeme noted that he was grasping the knife in a throwing grip now. Acting as if he hadn't

noticed, he pushed first one arm and then the other through the bottom of the shirt and into the sleeves, and then quickly

tugged it on over his head. Even as he did, Graeme heard Dauid move. He reacted instinctively, stepping swiftly to his left

and turning sideways to his brother. He quickly tugged his shirt down into place even as he heard the dagger strike the tree

trunk behind him. Graeme cast the blade a quick glance before turning to face his brother again. He didn't comment on the

dagger, but was thinking to himself that he now had a weapon at least, if only a dagger. "It must ha'e driven ye mad to have

everyone thinkin' William was alive and well and just off on pilgrimage. It meant Annella was still married rather than widowed."

"She was always patient with me. I knew she loved me, but she would never show me so long as she thought herself still married." His teeth ground together. "But I did no' ken how to reveal that William was dead without revealin' I killed him." The frustration he'd suffered those six years between William's death and the search showed in his voice. "Sadly fer Da I was no' as patient back then."

Graeme stiffened. "Da?"

"Aye. Three weeks after the weddin' I went to him, insistin' we should raise a search party to find William. I said I was

sure he'd no' leave on his weddin' night. We should look fer him." Dauid's mouth flattened out. "He said it was too soon fer

a search party. William would show up, he said, and turned to start down the stairs. I grabbed his arm to stop him, to continue

to try to convince him, but he turned to snap at me to leave off and jerked his arm away. Then he began to lecture me on stayin'

away from Nellie. He said he'd noticed me trailin' her around all the time and I was to leave her alone or he'd send me away

to train to become a priest. Well, there was no way I was becomin' a priest," he said with disgust. "I was to be laird, and

marry Nellie. So, I pushed him off the landing."

"And he fell down the stairs, ending up paralyzed and mute." Graeme's voice was calm, but fury was writhing inside him for

what his brother had done to their father.

Dauid nodded, his tone conversational as he said, "While the great hall was unusually empty when we were arguin' at the top

o' the stairs, the clatter he made tumblin' down the stairs drew servants from the kitchen. I hurried quickly away before

I could be seen, sure he was dead. But nay. The tough old bastard survived."

"But he did no' remember arguing with you before the fall," Graeme said, recalling Annella mentioning that his father had sustained damage that left him unable to speak, and with no memory of the time from the wedding and up to his fall.

"Aye." Dauid grimaced. "That was lucky and unlucky fer me."

When Graeme raised an eyebrow in question, he explained, "Well, Nellie was acting as laird, but she would no' send out a search

party either. I think his abandonin' her on their weddin' night hurt her pride."

Graeme cocked an eyebrow at the words. William hadn't abandoned his wife, Dauid had killed him. He was pretty sure that William

had gone to Maisie for help and advice as suggested and William was intending to return to his bedchamber when Dauid killed

him.

"Despite me best efforts to convince her to raise a search fer him, Nellie refused. She said William would return when he

was ready." He sighed unhappily at the memory. "Unfortunately, the only person who could override her decision would ha'e

been Father, but I was afraid to broach the subject with him, lest he get his memories back."

"And recall ye pushed him down the stairs, causing the state he's now in," Graeme said grimly.

"Aye."

Graeme stared at his brother. He'd suspected he was trying to kill him, but he'd never imagined Dauid had killed their brother, William, and pushed their father down the stairs too. Hell, with his mother thrown in, Dauid had killed two out of the four members of his family and incapacitated a third. Graeme himself was the last member of Dauid's family standing, and he was also trying to kill him. There was something wrong with the man, and he was, frankly, growing sick of having to look at him.

"So, when ye managed to fool us into believin' we'd found William's body outside that village near Jerusalem, ye thought we'd

ride back, and ye'd become laird and claim Nellie. But instead, I became laird and married her, so ye tried to drop a merlon

on me." He paused briefly, but when Dauid didn't deny it, he added, "Only, as Annella says, ye're a clumsy oaf, and ye managed

to somehow tumble off the battlements right behind the merlon and would ha'e fallen to yer death had ye no' managed to grab

onto the ledge and hold on until the men could pull ye up."

"I'm no' a clumsy oaf!" Dauid snapped. "I'd loosened the merlon, but not as well as I'd thought. I had to put me whole weight

behind it to push it off. It did no' seem to be workin', and then it suddenly gave way and I could no' stop meself from going

over with it. But I did manage to grab onto the ledge with one hand as I went, then got me other up on it too. So, I'm no'

a clumsy oaf. And I do no' believe Nellie would call me one."

Graeme didn't argue with him, but moved on. "And ye were the one to loose the arrow that hit Payton, though ye were aimin'

fer me and he just got in the way."

"Aye." Dauid looked unhappy. "Ye got damned lucky there."

He nodded in agreement. He'd got very lucky. Payton, however? Not as lucky. Though, like his sister, he'd been hit in the upper right area below the shoulder. Only on him the arrow had gone back to front rather than front to back as it had been for Annella. If he didn't suffer fever, Payton would heal quickly, and Graeme suspected he wouldn't dare get fever with his mother tending him.

"How did ye ken?"

Graeme glanced to him in question.

"How did ye ken I was comin' to kill ye? How did ye ken I pushed the merlon off and shot the arrow at ye? How did ye ken?"

"Afraid someone else may sort it out?" Graeme taunted and was gratified to see anxiety cross Dauid's face. He'd suffered enough

of that himself when he'd realized he was being followed and had fled the bedchamber weaponless and in naught but his shirt.

Every moment on the walk he'd expected to be attacked from behind. He'd spent the walk trying to mentally prepare himself

as he'd listened for any telltale sound that would give away that the attack was happening. Graeme had been confident that

even unarmed he could win against a man armed with a knife. He'd thought he might even be able to disarm and win in a sword

fight. An arrow through the back, however, would have been another thing. The only way to combat that was to avoid getting

shot. So he'd moved quickly, weaving between trees so that his back was rarely open to attack.

"How did ye ken?" Dauid repeated angrily.

"What ye should be askin' is how should ye explain to Annella that ye allowed her to be shot by our mother ere botherin' to

rescue her."

"I was no' here when that happened," Dauid said quickly. "I came later."

"Aye. Ye were here. Ye were here when we were talkin', ye watched us tuppin', saw her get shot—"

"Nay!" Dauid snapped.

"I heard that nonsense ye were spewin' at her as I returned to the table tonight, Dauid," he said patiently. "About protectin'

her, and how if anythin' happened to me, and ye became laird, ye'd protect her and talk to her and no' be an idiot she needs

to kick in the shin or some such rot."

"So?" Dauid said defensively.

"So, how did ye ken I kicked him in the shin and called him an idiot if ye were no' there?"

Graeme stiffened at those words and jerked his head around to stare with horror as his wife stepped out of the woods behind

him. Real fear claiming him for the first time since he'd realized he was being followed and was unarmed, Graeme growled,

"Wife, get back to the safety o' the keep."

Annella snorted at the suggestion, and then pulled a sword from her waist as she continued forward to his side.

His sword, he realized. And was that his plaid around her neck... and tucked into his belt?

"'Tis very heavy, husband," Annella said pointedly.

Graeme dropped his gaze just in time to see her let the sword lower so that she was holding it pointing down, but with its

tip stuck into the ground taking most of the weight. The sight nearly made him groan. That was no way to treat a fine weapon

like his sword. Biting back his outrage, he took the sword from her and even managed a "Thank ye."

"Me pleasure," she murmured and then turned her attention to Dauid again and tilted her head slightly. "Ye do no' look pleased to see me, Dauid."

Actually, Graeme thought, it was not so much that Dauid looked displeased to see her, it was more as if he was as horrified

to see her as he himself was. But for different reasons, he was sure. Graeme was horrified because he wanted her away from

here and safe. He was quite sure that Dauid was horrified because he couldn't kill Graeme with her there, didn't know how

much she'd heard and knew, and really didn't want her to know anything. Graeme wasn't at all sure how Dauid would react to

her knowing either. It made the man unpredictable and a possible danger to his wife.

Deciding to get his brother's attention back on himself, Graeme shifted his grip on his sword to be better prepared and said,

"I imagine the reason ye did no' kill Mother the moment she made it apparent she intended to kill us was because ye hoped

she'd do yer dirty work fer ye, and kill me. Then ye could kill her, savin' Annella and, hopefully, gaining her gratitude."

Dauid peered from him to Annella and back, then just drew his sword and rushed him. Normally, Graeme allowed combatants to

come to him. It never hurt to let them use up energy while you conserved your own. But this time he was desperate to keep

the other man away from his wife. So, raising his sword, he strode swiftly forward to meet his brother.

Biting her lip, Annella moved several steps back to keep out of the way. She then leaned against a tree trunk to rest while she waited. The walk out had been a lot for her. She'd intended to lag behind Dauid a ways to avoid his detecting her presence behind him. In the end though she'd actually fallen further behind than she'd intended from sheer exhaustion. It had been a relief when she'd heard the men's voices ahead and had been able to follow the sound. When she'd spotted Dauid's silhouette ahead, outlined by the torchlight ahead of him, she'd silently moved around the clearing to come up behind Graeme.

Now she watched and silently hoped her husband wouldn't dally about this. She had absolutely no doubt that he would win this

battle. All Graeme had done for the last ten years was fight for one laird or another, whereas Dauid had not. She'd seen the

younger brother practice a time or two in the courtyard with the other men, but he wasn't especially good at it. He was also

clumsy as hell, tripping over his own feet and whatnot.

Truthfully, to her this seemed like Dauid taking his own life by pretty much throwing himself on Graeme's sword. But she supposed

there were worse ways for him to die. Facing the king's court and justice was one that would be worse. Not so much because

of the method of execution—at least, hanging did not seem that bad to her—but it was the long, drawn-out wait to be hanged

that seemed like torture to her.

She watched the men hammering at each other with their great swords and could tell Dauid was already tiring, while Graeme appeared fine. She suspected her husband could have killed his brother at any time, but the fact that he was battling his own brother was making him hold back and—Oh! Nay, she thought, eyes widening as her husband drove his sword through Dauid's chest. Not holding back then, or at least not holding back anymore if he had been. The two men remained frozen for one moment, gazes meeting over the sword, and then Graeme pulled his blade out and watched his brother drop.

"Is he dead?" Annella asked as Graeme wiped the blood off his sword on his brother's tunic.

He finished what he was doing and then turned away from his brother and walked toward her.

"Aye," he finally answered, his tone somber.

"I'm sorry," she said when he paused before her.

Graeme shook his head on a slight shrug. "There was somethin' wrong with him. He was no' right in the head. He killed William,

pushed me da down the stairs and killed Mother. Although that last bit was justified," he added grimly.

"Aye, it was," Annella agreed.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and said, "I'm sorry, love."

"For what?" she asked uncertainly.

"It seems ye've married into a half-mad family."

Annella smiled faintly and shook her head. "Nay. You, William and yer father seem sound. As fer yer mother, I suspect she

was no' mad so much as bitter and angry that ye forced her out o' the castle. She could no' play lady o' the castle and torture

anyone from a cottage," Annella pointed out.

"Ye do no' think her tormentin' me father as she did was mad?" he asked dubiously.

Annella smiled faintly. "Nay. Just nasty. I suspect she saw it as paying him back for her having to marry him and so made

his life as miserable as she could."

"True," Graeme agreed, and then slid his arm around her waist and turned her toward the edge of the clearing where the path was that would take them back to the entrance to the passages.

"Ye may be right about Dauid though," she commented, as they moved slowly across the clearing. "He had to have been mad to

think I'd ever want to be with him. Especially when I have a husband as good, kind, generous and strong as you."

Graeme stopped abruptly, drawing her to a halt too and then turned her so that they faced each other.

When he used a finger to tip her face up to his, Annella smiled and said, "I love you," even as he said it. They both chuckled

at that, and then Graeme's face grew somber.

"I'm a lucky man to have ye to wife, Annella Gunn. And I intend to spend the rest o' me days provin' that I love ye." Lowering

his head, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, and then whispered, "And makin' up fer the hell me family's put ye through."

"I'll hold ye to that, husband," Annella warned in a soft murmur.

Graeme grinned. "I'm no' afraid o' ye, wife. So long as ye do no' ha'e a pot in yer hand to hit me in the head with, I'll

ne'er be afraid o' ye."

Annella laughed and then glanced back to where Dauid lay unmoving in the grass. The torch was nearly burned down, the circle

of light it was giving off, dimming and shrinking. "Are we taking him with us?"

Graeme glanced over to his brother. "Nay. I'll send men back fer him."

"Good," Annella breathed and turned with him to start along the path back toward the entrance to the passage. They hadn't gone more than ten feet or so when Graeme suddenly stopped again. Glancing to him, she went still when he grabbed the belt around her waist. At first, she thought he meant to remove it, but he just turned it until he found his sword's sheath and slid it home. Graeme then scooped her into his arms and started walking again.

Annella didn't protest being carried. The truth was she'd used up nearly every last bit of strength she'd had walking out

here to bring Graeme his sword and plaid.

"Wife?"

Annella opened eyes that had just drooped closed. "Aye?"

"Thank ye." His voice was somber, as was his expression.

"For bringing you your sword and plaid?" she asked.

"Nay. I mean, aye, thank ye fer that too, but I was referrin' to all ye've done here at Gunn these last six years. I ken it

was a lot o' work, but 'tis now a fine castle any laird would be proud to call home. Ye're a fine wife."

A smile of pleasure blooming on her face, Annella murmured "Thank you," but he wasn't done.

"And I ha'e to tell ye..." He paused briefly, and then said, "I mentioned before to ye that when I arrived back at Gunn I noted ye were exhausted and suffocatin' under the weight o' all the responsibilities that had been piled on ye after William's leave-taking. What I did no' get to explain then, because we got distracted with other issues, is that I wanted to ease the burdens ye carried. That is why I did no' approach ye with any issues and problems I encountered as the new laird. It's no' that I was no' talkin'

to ye because I did no' think ye could help, or understand. I avoided bringin' issues to ye, because I wanted to relieve ye

o' the burdens ye'd been carryin' alone fer so long. I hoped it would give ye more time to yerself, and mayhap make ye happier

to stay here."

A smile began to pull at Annella's lips and she leaned back slightly in his arms to peer at him. "Truly?"

"Truly," Graeme assured her. "Ye're beautiful, smart and did wonders with Gunn when ye ran it, love. Angus has told me how

bad things were here ere ye took over. By all accounts ye're a fine leader with a sharp mind. I admire and respect ye, and

I'd be happy to take advice from ye, so long as it does no' place too much weight on yer shoulders."

"Thank ye, husband," Annella whispered, thinking he'd just given her the finest compliment she'd ever heard. She had the best

husband she could ask for. It was funny sometimes how life turned out. The truth was, while she'd been crushed by William

leaving on their wedding night and all that had followed, and was sorry William's life had been cut short by Dauid, if all

of that had not happened, she would not now be with Graeme. Annella could foresee a fine, bright, happy future with her husband.

One she may not have had with William.