Terrified by the magnitude of her cl**ax, she tried to stop it, but he wouldn't let her retreat. He stoked the fires of passion with each hard thrust. She screamed his name as wave after wave of ecstasy poured over her, and only then when he knew she had found her fulfillment did he give in to his own. With an almost violent shudder, he thrust deep and poured his seed into her.

He didn't move for long minutes. The only sound was harsh panting as each tried to recover. Gillian was overcome by what had just happened. She continued to hold on to him as she tried to calm her racing heart.

Brodick wanted to kiss her and tell her how much she had pleased him, but he couldn't find the strength to move. He heard her whisper, "Good Lord Almighty," and he laughed, but he still couldn't make himself move, and so he kissed her earlobe and stayed where he was.

"I knew you'd be good, but damn, Gillian, I didn't know you'd kill me."

"Then I made you happy?"

He laughed again and finally lifted his head and looked at her. Her eyes were still misty with passion, she looked thoroughly ravaged, and he suddenly thought it might be a good idea to make love to her again.

"Yes, you made me very happy."

"I didn't know… when you… and then I… I didn't know we could do… what we did… I didn't know."

His hands cupped the sides of her face, and he kissed her lazily and thoroughly. When he shifted his position ever so slightly, his chest hairs tickled her breasts, and she sighed in reaction. He kissed her again then rolled to his side and pulled her into his arms.

He felt an overpowering possessiveness. He didn't know how he had managed to capture her or why she loved him, but she belonged to him now. She was his wife and for the rest of his life he would protect and cherish her.

She stroked his chest as she snuggled closer to him and closed her eyes. She was just drifting off to sleep when a sudden thought jarred her wide awake. "Brodick, what am I going to tell Father Laggan tomorrow?"

In graphic detail, using every lusty word he could think of, he described what they had just done and then suggested she simply repeat those words to the priest.

She told him she'd do no such thing, and after mulling the matter over in her mind for several minutes, she decided she wasn't going to tell him anything at all.

"I don't want Father to remove the blessing," she worried out loud.

With a yawn, he answered, "He won't."

"You tell him."

"All right," he agreed. "Now you tell me."

"Tell you what?" she whispered.

"That you love me. I want to hear the words again."

"I love you."

She fell asleep waiting for him to tell her that he loved her.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Loving Brodick was exhausting. She didn't get much sleep that night, unaccustomed as she was to having a man in her bed, a big man at that, who took up most of the space. Every time she tried to move, she bumped into him. She finally slept pinned under one of his hard thighs.

Brodick wasn't used to sleeping in a bed, and so he had just as much trouble. It was too soft, and he much preferred the ground outdoors with the brisk wind cooling his body and the stars to gaze at until he drifted off, but he wasn't about to leave his bride on their wedding night, and so he stayed where he was and dozed off and on. In between he made love to her. He tried to be gentle because he knew he'd hurt her the first time he'd mated with her, and Gillian was too sleepy at first to resist him; then she was too caught up in the magic of his touch to care if he hurt her or not.

She was dead to the world when he finally got out of bed. He was late meeting Ramsey on the field—dawn had already come and gone—and after kissing Gillian on her forehead, he covered her with the plaid blanket and then quietly left the cottage.

The training session went well in spite of the fact that he was in such a good mood. He really didn't want to hurt anyone. Ramsey did most of the damage and impressed the MacPherson boys in no time at all. Brodick did accidentally break the nose of one of the MacPherson soldiers with his elbow, but he snapped it back in place with his hand before the soldier could regain his feet and told him he'd be as good as new once the bleeding stopped. It wasn't an apology, but it was damned close, and Brodick began to worry that marriage had already turned him into milk toast.

Ramsey of course noticed his cheerful disposition. He took great delight in ribbing him about showing up late and yawning every other minute until Brodick seriously considered breaking one of Ramsey's bones.

When the training session had begun, Proster, the leader of the faction, refused to use a weapon against the laird. He was being honorable, and foolish, for though he was vastly superior to the other MacPherson soldiers in skill and technique, he wasn't by any means Ramsey's equal. After his laird had knocked him to his knees a couple of times, Proster's cloak of arrogance began to shred. All of the other soldiers reached for their swords, thinking that would give them the advantage, but Proster still stubbornly refused.

It didn't really matter, though. Brodick and Ramsey quickly disarmed all of the soldiers, and then got down to the business of teaching them how to stay alive on the battlefield. It was a lesson in humility, and by the time the two lairds strolled off the field, the ground behind them was littered with groaning bodies.

The two friends went to the lake to wash the blood off them. They passed Bridgid on their way back. She greeted Ramsey with a curt nod, smiled at Brodick and wished him a good day, and then continued on with her head held high.

"What was that all about?" Brodick asked. "She seems irritated with you."

Ramsey laughed. "That's an understatement. She's furious with me, but because I'm her laird, she has to be civil. I think it must be killing her. Did you see the fire in her eyes? She's something else, isn't she? That smile of hers could make a man…"

"What?" Brodick prodded.

"Never mind."

"You want her, don't you?"

Ramsey didn't have to guard his words with his friend, and so he was bluntly honest. "Sure I want her. Hell, she's a beautiful woman, and most of the men here want to bed her. God help the man she ends up with, though, for I swear she'll lead him a merry chase."

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Sighing, Ramsey admitted, "I embarrassed Bridgid. The widow Marion wanted to warm my bed," he explained. "Bridgid must have seen her going into my chamber and she went in after her. Honest to God, Brodick, I've never seen such a temper in a woman before. Bridgid rivals you," he added. "Poor Marion wanted to be discreet and had gone to considerable trouble making certain no one knew she was going to share my bed, and then Bridgid marched in there and made such a ruckus, all hell broke loose. Marion had already gotten undressed and was waiting in bed for me, and that shocked the hell out of Bridgid, and it also infuriated her. She thought I was being… duped. Will you stop laughing so I can finish this?"

"Sorry," Brodick said, though he didn't sound the least contrite. "What happened then?"

"Bridgid dragged Marion out of bed, that's what happened. By the time I got upstairs, Marion was running down the back steps, screaming at the top of her lungs and only barely clothed. Fortunately the hall was almost empty and Father Laggan had already passed out."

"And?"

"I slept alone."

Brodick laughed again. "No wonder you're in such a foul mood today."

"That I am," he agreed. "Bridgid seemed to think that I should have thanked her for saving me from Marion."

"But you didn't."

"Hell, no, I didn't."

"Did you explain that you had invited Marion to share your bed?"

"Yes, I did, but that was a mistake. I'm never going to understand women," he said, his voice bleak now. "I swear Bridgid looked… wounded. I hurt her and I…"

"What?"

Ramsey shook his head. "Bridgid is innocent and naive."

"But you still want her in your bed, don't you?"

"I don't take virgins to my bed. I would never dishonor Bridgid in such a way."

"Then marry her."

"It's not that simple, Brodick."

"You still getting pressured to marry one of the MacPhersons?"

"Meggan MacPherson," he countered. "And I am still considering it. It would solve a lot of problems, and I have to do my duty as laird. I want their land and resources, and I also want peace. It seems the only way to get that is to join the clans by marriage."

"What's this woman like?"

"Admirable," he replied. "She wants the best for her clan. She's strong and stubborn," he added. "But she doesn't have Bridgid's…"

"What?"

"Fire."

"When will you decide?"

"Soon," he replied. "Enough talk about me," he added as he turned the conversation to what he considered a much more serious matter. "Did Gillian give you the names of the Englishmen?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"I forgot to ask," he admitted sheepishly.

Incredulous, Ramsey stared at him for several seconds and then snapped, "How could you forget?"

"I was busy."

"Doing what?" Ramsey asked before he realized how foolish the question was. Now he sounded as naive as Bridgid.

Brodick glanced at him. "What the hell do you think I was doing?"

"What I wasn't," Ramsey replied drolly.

They walked along in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Brodick had always been able to tell his friend whatever was on his mind, but he was hesitant now as he asked his advice.

"Marriage changes a man, doesn't it?"

"You should ask Iain that question, not me. I've never been married."

"But you're more astute about these matters than I am, and Iain's not here."

"Matters of the heart?"

"Yes."

"You've only been married one day," Ramsey pointed out. "What is it you're worried about?"

"I'm not worried."

"Yes, you are. Tell me."

"I've just noticed…"

"What?" Ramsey asked in exasperation.

"I'm… cheerful, damn it."

Ramsey laughed. Brodick didn't appreciate his friend's reaction. "Look, forget I said anything. I'm not used to talking about such…"

"You never talk about what you're thinking or feeling. I shouldn't have laughed. Now tell me."

"I just did," he growled. "I mean it, I'm cheerful, God help me."

"That is unusual," he admitted.

"That's what I mean. I've been married one day and marriage is already changing me. Gillian confuses me. I knew I wanted her, but I didn't know I'd become so possessive."

"You were possessive of her before you married her."

"Yes, well, it's worse now."

"She's your wife. It's probably just a natural inclination."

"No, it's more than that. I want to take her home and—"

Ramsey cut him off. "You can't, not yet. She's got to help me find the bastard who tried to kill my brother."

"I know she needs to stay here, but I still want to take her home, and if I could, I swear I'd keep her under lock and key," he admitted, shaking his head over his own foolish thoughts.

"So she'd be safe."

"Yes, and also because I don't like other men…"

"Staring at her? She's a beautiful woman."

"I'm not the jealous sort."

"Sure you are."

"She's turned my mind upside down."

"You sound like a man in love with his wife."

"Lovesick men are weak men."

"Only if they were weak before they fell in love," Ramsey said. "Iain loves his wife. Would you consider him weak?"

"No, of course not."

"Then it stands to reason that love doesn't make a man less than what he already is."

"It makes him vulnerable."

"Perhaps it does," Ramsey agreed.

"And if his mind is constantly consumed with thoughts of her, then he becomes weak. Is that not so?"

Ramsey smiled. "I'll tell you what is so. You love her, Brodick, and that scares the hell out of you."

"I should have broken your nose."

"Get the names first; then you can try. Are you certain that she'll tell you who they are?"

"Of course she will. She's my wife, and she'll do whatever I tell her to do."

"I wouldn't use those exact words when you talk to her. Wives don't like being told what to do by their husbands."

"I know Gillian," he said. "She won't refuse me. I'll have the names of all the Englishmen by sundown."

Chapter Twenty-Six

No one was more surprised than Brodick when his sweet, she'll-do-whatever-I-tell-her-to-do wife refused to give him the names of the Englishmen.

Astounded that she would deny him, he was at a loss as to what to do next. Gillian sat at the table with her hands folded in her lap, as calm as could be in the eye of his storm.

"What do you mean, no?" he demanded.

"You forgot to kiss me when you came inside. I think you should."

"What?"

"You forgot to kiss me."

"For the love of…"

He hauled her to her feet, planted a hard kiss on her mouth, and then sat her back down again. "You're going to tell me who those bastards in England are."

"Yes," she agreed, and then qualified her answer. "Eventually."

"What does that mean?"

She refused to answer. She picked up her brush and ran it through her hair. Damn, she looked pretty tonight, he thought. She wore a flowing blue sleeping gown that delicately clung to her soft curves. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were bright, and she smelled like roses. The woman was nearly irresistible. He glanced at the bed, then back at her before he realized where his thoughts were leading.

It was already way past sunset, and he still hadn't gotten the names from her, though in truth, he hadn't seen her since he'd left at dawn, and he'd been too busy until this minute to think about it. Now, however, he was determined to get what he wanted before they went to bed, and with that thought in mind, he said, "A wife must do whatever her husband orders her to do."