Chapter 8

"Nay."

"Aye."

"Nay," Annella repeated grimly, and turned from her bedchamber window to glare at her brother. He'd followed her to her room

after they'd broken their fast that morning. She hadn't been surprised. Nor had she been surprised when Payton closed the

door behind him and announced that she would marry Graeme... as if he had a right to order it.

Annella hadn't been impressed. She'd had little sleep last night thanks to the Gunn men. First Graeme had kept her awake with

his bedding skills, then she'd had to tend Dauid. Although, it really hadn't taken all that long for her to take care of her

young brother-in-law, she acknowledged. At least not once the tincture had done its work and put him to sleep. After that

though, sleep had eluded her. She had known her brother would demand she marry Graeme come morning, and she'd spent the better

part of the night fretting over that and what she should do.

The truth was, Annella didn't dislike Graeme. She certainly enjoyed the bedding with him. A lot. But that didn't mean they would do well being married, and that was her worry. They hadn't talked much since his arrival other than the night he'd walked her back to the keep from the blacksmith's cottage, and the little they'd talked while touring Gunn land to introduce him to the villeins who farmed it.

Annella supposed that didn't really signify much since she'd passed even fewer words with William before they'd married. As

she presumed happened with most new brides, she'd arrived the day before the wedding, been too shy to say much to William

during the sup that night and had married the next day. Which was all well and fine, but that was then and this was now. Annella

was no longer a new bride, young and malleable. She'd run Gunn on her own for six years and was used to her independence.

What if Graeme expected her to be a submissive, dutiful wife? Annella wasn't sure she could manage that, and really, from

what she'd seen so far, she was worried that might be the case. Not because of anything he'd done, but because of what he

hadn't done.

The idea behind her staying here rather than returning home to MacKay right away had been to help Graeme take on the mantle of laird so the transition went smoothly. But other than that tour that had ended with him taking her maidenhead on top of their picnic in the clearing, he hadn't approached her for anything to do with the castle and its people. In fact, he was usually up and out of the keep before she reached the table to break her fast, no matter how early she woke. The only time she saw him was at the sup and after when they just seemed to end up getting caught up in passion. At least they had on two of the last four nights since the picnic in the clearing, and it no doubt would have been four out of four had she not been called away to tend a birthing mother in the village one night, and an injured soldier the next.

That was another problem, of course. She was playing with fire letting him bed her repeatedly. She'd started taking bird's

nest after their first time. Also known as wild carrot, it was supposed to help prevent getting with child. At least that's

what her cousin, Jo, had told her. Of course, if it didn't work and she got with child, she'd have to marry him. But until

then—

"I will no' marry Graeme," she said firmly.

"Ye will," Payton insisted. "Ye have to. I order it, and as yer brother I have—"

"Nothing," Annella interrupted grimly. "Ye have nothing... no right nor power o'er me. That all ended when I married William

and became a Gunn."

"What?" he asked with shocked disbelief, and then his eyes narrowed. "Well then, ye'll no' mind if I send a messenger to Da

about this, will ye?"

Annella's shoulders sagged with defeat. She would not defy her father, and she knew very well that he would insist on marriage

once he knew the situation. She was neatly trapped.

The wedding was held late that afternoon, just before the sup and directly after the ceremony to inter William's bones in the family crypt in the chapel. It had seemed a good idea to bury her previous husband before marrying her next.

Graeme had wanted both ceremonies to be held in the late hours of the morning with a feast at the nooning and the consummation

to follow. Annella had been shocked at the suggestion. Consummating in daylight? According to the church, that was a sin,

one their priest would surely protest. Besides, she'd pointed out, it would be impossible for Cook to prepare a proper feast

by the nooning.

Fortunately, before Graeme could point out that they'd done more than a little consummating in the clearing in broad daylight

their first time, Teague, Symon and her brother, Payton, had voiced their agreement and had taken on the chore of convincing

him. Leaving them to it, she'd gone to talk to Cook about a feast for that night, then had gone on her daily rounds. She had

two lassies in the village with child and two who'd just had their bairns over the last week that she'd wanted to check on.

Then she'd looked in on the blacksmith, relieved to see that the infection hadn't returned and while his healing would be

slow, he was healing. She'd then gone to check in on Raynard too. He was recovering from his wound more quickly than the blacksmith. Unfortunately, that meant he was beginning to whine about wanting a drink. Annella had told him no, and insisted he couldn't get out of bed yet. She'd ordered that one of the men should continue to watch him to ensure he didn't, and to be sure he didn't drink either. It truly was too soon for him to be up and about, but she was also hoping that if he was away from drink long enough, he might not have such a yen for it.

By the time she'd seen to everyone, it had actually been midafternoon. Annella had returned to the keep, intending to have

a late nooning meal, only to have Florie rush her the moment she entered the great hall. Grabbing her arm, the maid had hurried

her to and up the stairs, ignoring her protests and insisting she needed to prepare for the wedding.

Annella had managed to break away from her briefly at the top of the steps, telling her she must check on Dauid. He, however,

had been sleeping peacefully, leaving her little excuse to avoid preparing for the ceremony. She'd left his room and given

herself up to her maid.

What had followed was torture to Annella's mind. Bathing in midafternoon to wash her body and hair, followed by sitting forever

while Florie brushed her long tresses dry and then put them up in some sort of painful mass that involved at least a dozen

different braids all over, pulled so tightly into a crowning glory on the top and back of her head that she quickly had a

headache.

Annella had scowled at her maid the whole time, sure she had no idea what she was doing. After all, before Florie had become

her lady's maid six years earlier, the lass had been a scullery maid with no experience, and there had certainly never been

an occasion before this for her to dress her hair.

Still, Annella had maintained her patience and suffered through it in silence... until it came time to choose a gown for her to wear. That had been a truly depressing endeavor indeed as Florie had pulled out every single dress in the chests and discarded each as either too frayed, too damaged, or worn too thin to do for her wedding. Annella hadn't even been able to argue over it. Every gown she possessed had come with her when she'd traveled here to be married six years earlier. They were all in a shameful state. But new gowns meant an afternoon with a traveling cloth merchant, selecting fabrics and then haggling over prices, followed by debating which style of gown was to be made. Then there would be fittings. All of which added up to a lot of time she hadn't had to put toward something as frivolous as a pretty gown.

In the end, she'd had to make do with a pretty but frayed gown of pale blue as the best of the lot. Florie had not been pleased.

She'd muttered endlessly about how shameful it was for her lady having to present herself in such poor attire and reminded

her that she'd repeatedly pointed out that Annella should make the time and have new gowns made.

Annella had actually been relieved when Payton had knocked on the door asking if she was ready... until she recalled that

her brother was there to escort her to marry Graeme. She'd begun to drag her feet then. Not that it had made much difference,

Payton had simply taken her hand over his arm and pulled her cheerfully along with him.

The wedding had taken place on the chapel steps with damned near every Gunn in the clan there to witness and then pledge their

fealty to her as lady... again.

Annella had been grim-faced throughout the ceremony and feast. This marriage wasn't what she'd wanted. However, she had no one to blame for its necessity but herself, and knew it. She never should have allowed herself to fall asleep in Graeme's bedchamber, let alone his bed.

Annella had tried to delay the inevitable by saying her parents should be there, and that they should also wait for Dauid

to heal and be able to attend, but neither her brother nor Graeme had thought that was necessary. Both had said since there

had been several men in the hall to witness when she'd left Graeme's room the night before, they should marry at once. She

had given in a little less than gracefully, but neither her brother nor Graeme seemed to notice.

Despite the dearth of time, Cook had done a fine job preparing the feast to follow and Annella made sure to compliment her

for it once she finished her meal. Then Graeme had stood, taken her arm and bid everyone "good eve" before walking her to

the stairs and up them.

Truly, Annella had experienced as much discomfort in that moment as she had on her first wedding night with William. Not because of what was coming, as had been the case back then; she'd had sex now and had nothing to fear in that regard. Her discomfort this time was because every single person in the great hall knew what they were heading to their chamber to do. It had made her self-conscious and embarrassed, right up until Graeme had closed the door, stepped up behind her to wrap his arms around her and began nuzzling her neck. Annella quickly forgot everyone and everything then, and gave herself up to the pleasure he brought to life in her.

Really, that was the only part of the day that Annella enjoyed. As annoyed as she'd been about the need to marry, she could

hardly blame Graeme for it. Actually, she supposed she should be grateful that he wasn't annoyed at "having" to marry her . At least he hadn't seemed to be. They'd enjoyed hour after hour of pleasure in a comfortable bed without the need to be

rushed and he'd shown her many new and diverse ways to find that pleasure. He'd spent the better part of the night on that

tutelage.

Which is why she was so late waking up this morning, Annella supposed as she rolled over in bed and glanced out the window

to see the sun high in the sky. By her guess it was only an hour or two before the nooning. A shameful hour to be still abed,

she thought, but merely smiled and stretched luxuriously as memories of the night before slid through her mind. If she had

that to look forward to, she would definitely enjoy this marriage more than her first, Annella acknowledged and was grinning

as she tossed aside the furs and bed linens covering her.

She was quick about her ablutions and dressing and was heading for the door when it opened to allow Florie to poke her head

in.

"Oh! Ye're awake," the maid said, pushing the door further open to enter. "The laird said to let ye sleep, but I've been checkin'

on ye regular like to see were ye up. Actually, I was startin' to fret a bit. Ye rarely sleep this late."

When Annella merely mumbled something of an agreement and continued toward the door, eager to get out and go below to break her fast, Florie grinned slightly, and added, "But then ye're no' the only one who slept late this morn. Most o' the castle did, though they're all up and about now... except yer brother. Now yer up, I think he's the only one still abed, but then yer husband's friends kept challengin' Laird Payton to drinkin' contests last night after ye and the laird retired. In the end, he was so fou' they had to carry him up to his bed."

Annella's eyebrows rose at that as she passed the maid and led the way out into the hall. "Still abed, ye say?"

"Aye."

"Mayhap I should check on him then," Annella decided, a devilish smile claiming her lips as she started up the hall to the

chamber her brother had been put in. No doubt he'd have a sore head this morning, she was thinking, and would not be pleased

should she make a lot of racket to wake him up. Which, of course, she fully intended to do.

It would serve him right for his high-handed nonsense, Annella thought as she opened his door and sailed in without bothering

to knock. Much to her disappointment, however, her brother was not snoring away in his bed. Instead, Payton was at the small

table by the window, bent over the basin that rested there and scooping water out of it with both hands cupped together, which

he then splashed over his face.

Disappointment flowing through her that she couldn't wake him up as she'd planned, Annella crossed the room to stand beside him. Payton was pale, with misery racking his face that told her he was indeed suffering this morning. Unfortunately, he looked so pitiable that she no longer felt like tormenting him.

"Do ye want a tonic fer yer head?" she asked solemnly.

"Oh, dear God, do no' bellow at me this morn, Nella. I can no' take it," Payton groaned, closing his eyes and covering his

face.

Annella's eyebrows rose at the complaint, because she hadn't bellowed at all. In fact, she'd spoken more softly than normal

out of sympathy. Shaking her head, she turned to glance at Florie, who stood waiting in the open door. Rather than speak,

she merely mouthed, "Medicinals." The girl understood at once and hurried back into the hall and out of sight.

Annella turned back to her brother, intending to suggest he return to his bed, but was forestalled when the sound of a commotion

made its way to them through the open window. Frowning, she stepped to it and leaned out to peer into the bailey below. Her

eyes widened in shock when she saw the large contingent of warriors heading for the drawbridge at a fast trot. Graeme was

at the front, with Teague and Symon on either side and at least a hundred Gunn men following. Every man bristled with weapons:

swords hanging from the waist, maces, war hammers or crossbows strapped to their backs and daggers strapped to their arms

and sticking out of their boot tops.

"What the..." she murmured with shock and worry.

Payton stepped up to her side to peer out and cursed under his breath. Whirling to hurry toward the door, he muttered, "He must have got his answer from Morgan. Dammit! He should have sent fer me. I told him I would stand with him."

Annella turned in time to see him rush out through the open door. He didn't close it. She paused to peer out the window again,

a frown tugging at her lips. Stand with him for what? Answer from Morgan about what? She wondered over the words with confusion,

and then recalled Dauid saying that he was sure it was a Morgan who had attacked him when he'd arrived wounded.

Cursing now herself, Annella spun away from the window and rushed after her brother.

"There they are."

Graeme peered at the army on the hill opposite the one they were on and nodded grimly at Teague's words, then glanced around

with surprise when a fourth horse rode up and squeezed its way between his mount and Symon's. His eyebrows rose when he recognized

his brother-in-law, Payton. The man hadn't been around when he'd gathered the others to ride out, and he hadn't gone looking

for him. On purpose.

"So ye thought to ride out without me and hog all the fun fer yerselves, did ye?" Payton asked with a grin that didn't cover

the signs that he was not presently feeling all that well.

"'Tis no' yer fight," Graeme said solemnly. "And I do no' think yer sister wid be pleased with me do I get ye killed."

"She's already displeased with ye fer ridin' off to battle the day after the two o' ye wed," Payton told him with amusement, and then grimaced and added, "But then she's no' pleased with me either at the moment."

"Why?" Graeme asked with interest.

"I ordered the stablemaster no' to saddle her mount and to keep her there when she followed me to the stables intending to

ride after you."

"I ken the lass has run the keep these six years, but surely she did no' think to ride into battle with us?" Symon asked with

disbelief.

"Nay. I'd say she thinks to ride into battle on her own," Teague said dryly, and when the men all looked to him with surprise,

he nodded to the valley below.

Graeme turned to peer where his friend directed to see Annella coming from the woods to the right side of the valley. She

was riding her mare astride and bareback. It seemed the stablemaster had refused to saddle the horse to dissuade her following

them, but that hadn't stopped her. She was galloping up the opposite hill now, her hair and skirt whipping out behind her.

Fortunately, the daft woman had worn braies, and wasn't baring her naked ankles, calves or thighs to the men now spread out

along both sides of the valley, he noted.

For one moment, Graeme's heart stopped beating and his body went cold, then he ordered the others to remain where they were and urged his own mount down the hill. Like her, he rode more quickly than he should have. The hill on this side was steep and rocky enough to be a danger. Graeme was lucky his mount didn't lose its footing and tumble, crushing and smashing him against the boulders and rocks that made up the trail he took. But he was desperate to get to Annella before she got herself killed.

Despite his recklessness, Annella had reached the other army before he had even reached the valley floor. Heart in his throat,

Graeme watched his wife ride straight up to whom he presumed was the Morgan laird. Much to his relief, no one attacked her

or dragged her from her mount as he had feared would happen. Instead, much to his surprise, after a brief discourse, the man

he thought was Morgan detached himself from the group and accompanied Annella down the opposite hill to the valley floor and

halfway across to await him.

Graeme's relief did not make him slow his mount. By then he'd reached the valley floor and was racing toward the pair. He

began to slow as he drew nearer, confused by what he was seeing. Despite the fact that he'd been ready to go to battle over

the attack on his brother, the Morgan and Annella were both smiling and chatting like old friends. They were even chuckling

about something.

Their chuckles faded to faint smiles as he reached them, and Annella nodded mildly at Graeme and said, "'Tis fine, m'laird.

I explained to Laird Morgan about Dauid, and that having been away so long, ye could no' ken what sort o' man yer brother

was. And that this is surely all my fault fer no' explaining things to ye as I should have."

Before Graeme could ask what she meant by his not knowing what sort of man his brother was, she exclaimed, "Oh! Pray forgive me, m'lairds. I should introduce ye to each other. Laird Graeme Gunn, this is Laird Colban Morgan, a neighbor and dear ally ."

Graeme grunted what could have been taken for a greeting, unsurprised when the Morgan gave a similar response. The smile the

Morgan had been beaming at Annella had shriveled noticeably when he'd turned to Graeme. It seemed obvious that the only reason

the men lined up on either side of the valley weren't shedding blood that very minute was because of his wee wife explaining

matters Graeme still didn't understand and soothing the Morgan.

"Thank ye, Colban, fer being so understanding and remaining the friend and ally ye've always been to Gunn," Annella said now,

smiling widely at the man. "Ye must come fer a meal soon. 'Tis been near a month since yer last visit."

Graeme was scowling over that, when the Morgan had the temerity to claim her hand and press a kiss to the back of her fingers.

Still bent over her hand, he then peered up at her through heated eyes and said, "'Twill be me pleasure, whether before or

after yer visit home to yer parents at MacKay. Whichever is most convenient to ye."

Graeme's eyes sharpened as they moved between the man and Annella. He knew they hadn't been lovers these six years since he'd

taken her maidenhead himself barely a week ago. But he didn't like the way the man was rubbing his fingers over hers, or the

calf eyes he was giving her. And what was this nonsense about her going to her parents' home to visit? She was his wife. She

would stay here with him. As a wife should. Dammit.

Graeme was so annoyed at the possibility that she planned to leave him and return to MacKay despite their being married now, that he almost missed the nod the Morgan gave him before he turned his horse to head back up the hill to his men.

The moment his back was turned, Annella's smile died and she scowled at Graeme as she urged her mare to close the short distance

between them.

"Ye—" Graeme began, intending to ask what the devil was going on between her and the Morgan, and inform her that she would

not be leaving him to go home to MacKay, but she held up a hand to silence him. Graeme was so startled by the commanding gesture

that he obeyed it.

Stopping her horse next to his so that they were side by side but facing opposite directions, Annella said grimly, "The Morgans

did no' attack Dauid."

Graeme blinked as his mind quickly had to shift with the topic change. "Then who—?"

"No one," she snapped, interrupting him again. "Yer brother is a clumsy oaf. He's always hurtin' hisself. Judgin' by the wound

and where it was, I can guarantee ye that he was tryin' to put his sword back in his scabbard, missed and accidentally sliced

himself." Mouth tightening with vexation, she added, "It's no' e'en the first time he's done it either."

Graeme gave a start at that announcement. "He's had a similar wound before?"

"Three times in the six years I've kenned him," she said grimly. "And each time he's claimed 'twas a Morgan to blame, when

all ken 'tis him."

He pondered that briefly, but then recalled the Morgan's expression and the way his voice had dropped intimately as he'd spoken to her, and he frowned and asked, "Yer sure 'twasn't the Mor—?"

"Where did yer ship land?" Annella interrupted impatiently.

When he blinked in surprise and didn't respond right away, she said, "I'm guessin' Inverness or Aberdeen?"

"Nay," he said at once. "We'd have had to wait a month or better to take a boat landin' in either place. We thought it best

to take one that was immediately available and setting out fer Dundee. Landin' there and ridin' the rest o' the way wid be

faster than waitin' on one o' the scheduled boats landin' further north."

Annella nodded. "So, you and the party Dauid traveled with did come up through the south, approaching Gunn through Sutherland?"

"Aye," he agreed.

"Well, I ken ye've been away a long time, husband, but Morgan resides to the Northwest o' us," she reminded him. "And the

Morgans are no' allies with the Sutherlands."

"They're no'?" he asked with surprise. "They used to be when I was young."

"Aye, well, they are no' anymore. They had a fallin'-out three years ago. They'd as soon kill as look at each other now. So, I promise ye, 'tis no' verra likely that a Morgan would be on Sutherland soil." She paused for a moment to let that sink in, and then added, "Aside from that, how would Dauid have e'en kenned it was a Morgan? It's no' like they're foolish enough to wear bands on their arms, or certain colors to identify themselves. So, he would no' ken. He would ha'e had to recognize them, which he did no' claim." She shook her head with exasperation. "Nay. Dauid was no' attacked. He did it to himself by accident and blamed a Morgan because he was embarrassed and detests Colban."

Graeme stiffened at her familiar use of the Morgan's first name, but simply asked, "Why?"

Annella appeared irritated by the question, but then reluctantly admitted, "He thinks the Morgan is too familiar with me and

does no' show me the proper respect due a married lady."

Well, Graeme could hardly argue with that. He hadn't liked the way the man had kissed and caressed her fingers, or the hungry

look in his eyes as they'd devoured her.

"Ye nearly started a war with our neighbor and ally o'er nothing," she reprimanded him grimly.

"I thought Dauid had been attacked." He excused himself with a frown.

"Something ye would ha'e kenned was no' true had ye just talked to someone who kenned him," she growled.

"Aye," Graeme conceded and ran a hand through his hair. "I should ha'e talked to Angus ere rushin' off like I did after receiving

Morgan's response to me message." His mouth thinned again as he recalled the missive he'd received after sending his challenge

to the Morgan for the assault on his brother. The man had said he'd nothing to apologize for. None of his men had attacked

Dauid, but if 'twas battle he wished, he'd happily oblige.

Sighing now, Graeme admitted, "Angus did seem to want to tell me something this morn ere we rode out, but me blood was up and I just..." His words trailed off. Annella wasn't listening anymore. She was riding off, head high, back straight and rage pouring off her body in waves that were almost visible.

"She does no' seem pleased," Teague commented, bringing Graeme's attention to the fact that Teague, Symon, Payton and Angus

had made their way down the hill to his side. They must have started the dangerous trek the moment the Morgan had ridden off,

taking his soldiers with him.

Graeme eyed Angus. "What were ye tryin' to tell me ere we rode out?"

"That 'twas most like no' a Morgan who injured yer brother," he admitted solemnly.

"And what do ye think happened to him?" Graeme asked.

Angus grimaced, but said, "He's careless and impatient. The combination often leads to incidences where he is harmed."

"Ye think he accidentally cut himself while trying to sheathe his sword and lied to cover his embarrassment," Graeme said

plainly.

"Aye," Angus confessed.

"Where is Lady Annella goin'?" Symon asked suddenly, watching her disappear into the trees that edged one end of the valley.

"There's a path o' sorts through the woods," Angus explained. "'Tis shorter and avoids the rocky inclines."

"That's how she got here so quickly." Payton sounded a little irritated. Apparently, he'd been fretting over the fact that she'd arrived basically on his heels when he'd left ahead of her and on a strong stallion versus her wee mare.

Recalling what had been said between Annella and Morgan, specifically the bit about his coming for a meal before she left,

Graeme scowled at his brother-in-law and asked, "What is this nonsense about yer sister planning to go to MacKay?"

Payton's eyes widened with surprise and he immediately shook his head. "I've no idea. She has no' mentioned anything to me

about traveling home to MacKay."

"Well, she can no'. We're married now. She can no' just go haring off as she likes anymore."

Payton grunted in agreement and then complained, "I do no' ken what happened to her here at Gunn. She was ne'er this stubborn

and cantankerous growing up at MacKay."

"Do no' look at me," Graeme said at once when Payton cast an accusing eye his way. "I was no' e'en here."

Payton scowled with displeasure, and then said, "She fought marryin' ye. I had to threaten her with Da to get her to agree.

And that after two or three dozen men saw her comin' from yer room too," he exclaimed, shaking his head with disbelief.

"I'm surprised she had to be made to do it at all," Teague said, meeting Graeme's gaze with a question in his own. "After

all, ye're laird now, with wealth and power, and she certainly does no' seem to find bedding with ye repulsive."

Graeme merely shook his head at the words. He too didn't understand why Annella had been so reluctant to marry him. Truth to tell, he was actually a little offended by the fact that threats had had to be used to get her to say I do. To his mind, they were perfect for each other. She was strong and passionate and—

"I'd guess it's Lady Eschina that made her reluctant to marry ye and ha'e to stay at Gunn," Angus said suddenly.

Graeme's head whipped around and he speared the man with his eyes. "Me mother?"

"Aye. The morning after yer tour o' Gunn to meet the villeins, Lady Annella assigned old Bea to stay in yer parents' bedchamber

and help with yer father. Yer lady mother protested that 'twas no' necessary, but Annella insisted. Ever since then, Lady

Eschina has been comin' below to break her fast. She ne'er arrives ere ye've left, and then she sits about in the great hall

fer the better part o' the day makin' a nuisance o' herself until just ere ye return fer the sup. She then returns to the

chamber she shares with yer father."

Graeme felt a little bit guilty at this news. During his conversation with Annella when he'd learned that his father was supposed to have a scroll, ink and quill next to him to make his wishes known, and that it was something that had been missing when he'd visited, he'd said he'd talk with his father and have his mother removed from the room if necessary. But he hadn't. He'd been too busy trying to sort out how to get Annella to marry him. She'd had to take care of the matter herself. Not by removing his mother, of course, but by setting another maid in the room to ensure his father suffered no abuse from his own wife and her maid.

Sighing, he shifted a little impatiently and asked Angus, "What do ye mean when ye say me mother is makin' a nuisance o' herself?"

"Makin' comments and criticisms, snide remarks that I ken get under Lady Annella's skin," Angus answered, and then added,

"Like she used to do when Lady Annella first came. Only then the comments were about how she was ugly and such a poor wife

to William that her son had run away rather than live with her and such."

"What?" Payton asked with dismay.

"Aye." Angus nodded. "That went on fer a good year or two after William's leaving. At first, Lady Annella was obviously distressed

and upset by the words, which just made Lady Eschina's attacks worse and more frequent. But as Lady Annella gained confidence

in running this whole damned place by herself, she reacted less and less to Lady Eschina's words until she was simply ignoring

her as if she couldn't hear what she was saying, or didn't care. Not getting any reaction, Lady Eschina appeared to grow weary

o' the game and started spendin' more and more time in the chamber she shares with the old laird. She rarely came below the

last year ere this."

"But now she's comin' below again," Graeme muttered to himself, annoyed that he hadn't been aware of any of this. He was usually up at the crack of dawn and off to the loch to swim and clean himself. Then he spent the rest of the day handling his new duties as laird, only returning to the castle to eat his sup. He'd never even seen his mother below stairs, let alone witnessed these verbal attacks on Annella.

"Aye," Angus told him. "Like before, she's criticizin' everything Lady Annella does, commentin' that useless as ye are, yer

probably a better laird than she ever was, and blamin' her fer William's death, sayin' that were she a better wife, he'd have

stayed and yet live."

Graeme's mouth tightened at this news. It was no wonder the woman hadn't wanted to marry him and remain here. Who would, with

his harpy mother chasing them around making their life miserable? It was time to deal with his mother, he thought grimly.