COLM WAS HEADING OUTSIDE TO GIVE ORDERS TO HIS men as Gabrielle was coming down the stairs.

“Good morning,” she called out. “It’s going to be a fine day today, isn’t it?”

He stopped and waited for her to reach him. She was a bonny sight to be sure. Her gown was a royal blue, and though he would have preferred her to wear his colors, she still looked beautiful. Had they already been married, he knew exactly what he would do at this very moment. He would pick her up, carry her back to his bed, and take his time removing her clothes.

There was no way he was going to make it five more months without bedding her, and he decided that as soon as he returned home, he would order the priest to bless their union. When Colm first took her in, Brodick had suggested that Colm delay the marriage, warning that if Gabrielle got pregnant immediately after the wedding, some might believe the babe was from another man. Colm had another solution. He would know the babe was his and kill any man who suggested otherwise.

He thought about telling her now that he would marry her as soon as he returned, then changed his mind. He’d explain while the priest prepared for the ceremony.

“Liam is in charge while I am away, and if you have any problems, go to him. He will know what to do,” he told her.

“May I ask where you are going?” Gabrielle said.

The question puzzled him. He had already made his intentions clear to her. Had she forgotten so soon?

“To war, Gabrielle.”

She nearly fell over. “Now? You’re going to war now?”

“Why do you act so surprised? I told you what I was going to do.”

She grabbed his arm and held tight so that he wouldn’t get away from her until he had properly explained. “You said you were going to kill MacKenna.”

“Ah, so you do remember. Now let go of me so that I may—”

“You can’t just go to war, Colm.” Gabrielle couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Had he gotten up this morning, eaten his breakfast, called his men to arms, and now thought he would ride into battle? “You are not prepared.”

“How am I not prepared?”

Had he never gone to war before? Was that why he didn’t know what he was supposed to do?

“You haven’t declared war first,” she instructed. “Then you must spend weeks, if not months, on preparation. There are weapons to be made and packed in a wagon, food to pack as well to sustain your men during battle, and all other necessary equipment must be carefully placed in wagons and taken along for your comforts.”

He contained his laughter and asked, “Explain these necessary comforts to me.”

She thought about what the nobles took with them when they went to war. “You will need a strong tent so that you will be sheltered from the rain, and a rug to place inside the tent so that you will not have to step barefoot on the hard ground when you get out of your bed.”

“And do I take my bed with me?”

“Some would.”

“What about wine? How many barrels should I take with me?”

“As many as you think you will need,” she said. “There are rules, Colm, even for you to follow. In a civilized war—”

“War is never civilized, and you have just described to me how the English prepare for war. By now you should have noticed that I am not English.”

“You still must prepare.”

“I have my sword, my bow, and a sound horse. I have no need for more.”

“Then I will pray that you finish your war before you get hungry or thirsty.”

She tried to walk away, but he grabbed her and kissed her soundly.

“Will you come back to me?” she asked.

“I will.”

And then he was gone.

         

COLM AND HIS SOLDIERS had been gone from the holding for four days and nights when Lady Joan Dunbar arrived to pay her sister a visit.

Gabrielle was most curious to meet the woman Colm had intended to marry. She made up her mind that, no matter how pretty Joan was or how sweet her disposition, she would not be jealous of her. Colm obviously cared about the woman, or he wouldn’t have agreed to marry her. He might even have loved her. But Gabrielle would not be jealous.

Colm didn’t love Gabrielle. He had simply been trapped by a stupid debt. He never would have given her a second glance otherwise.

Did Joan love Colm? How could she not? He was a handsome, virile, strong man—a protector. And if Joan loved him, so what? Gabrielle still wouldn’t be jealous.

Perhaps she and Joan could even become friends. It would be nice to have a woman with whom to talk of matters that men would have no interest in. And she and Joan did have one thing in common: Colm. Yes, they just might become friends.

But that was not to happen. After spending five minutes with the woman, Gabrielle knew they would never be friends. The reason was simple: Lady Joan was a bitch, and a mean one at that.

Fiona introduced her sister. Joan was much taller and thinner than Gabrielle. She didn’t seem to have many curves. She was more statuesque. Her hair was so long it touched her waist, and the color was as pale as her complexion. Long lashes fanned across her azure eyes. She was pretty, and she knew it.

Joan kept sweeping her hair over her shoulder with the back of her hand in a dramatic gesture meant to draw attention to her curls.

“This is Lady Gabrielle, Joan,” Fiona said. “I explained to her that you and Laird MacHugh were to marry and then Father formed an alliance with Laird Dunbar and forced you to marry him.”

Joan stared at Gabrielle as she asked her sister, “Did you also explain that my husband is dead, and I am now free to marry Colm? And did you explain that I fully intend to do so?”

Lady Joan didn’t get quite the reaction she expected. Gabrielle was so surprised by what she’d said, she burst into laughter.

“Stop laughing,” Joan demanded. “I haven’t said anything amusing.”

“I would offer you my condolences on the loss of your husband, but you seem to have gotten past mourning him.”

Joan wagged a finger at Gabrielle. “I’ve heard all about you.”

“It’s odd that I haven’t heard anything about you.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m not a whore.”

Gabrielle shrugged, and that action further incited Joan’s anger.

“Colm won’t marry a whore, and that’s what you are.”

Gabrielle knew that Joan wanted her to defend herself, but she wasn’t going to accommodate her. “Enjoy your visit,” she said and then walked away.

That night, as Gabrielle was pulling the covers back, she thought about Joan and what she had said.

One day, after she was married to Colm, she would tell him she had saved him from a fate worse than death. Aye, she’d saved him from Joan.