Gabriel wasn't particularly thoughtful. "The least little thing frightens you," he remarked, remembering the expression on her face when she had first seen his wolfhound. "I should probably prefer a woman my hound would be afraid of," he added.

The heat radiating from his body made her drowsy. She draped one of her legs over his thighs and scooted closer.

"You're too thin by half," Gabriel said then. "The first northern wind will blow you over. I should probably prefer a big, strapping woman."

She was too sleepy to debate with her husband. Outrage took too much concentration. Johanna fell asleep listening to her husband as he continued to list her countless flaws.

"You're terribly naive, wife," he said when he remembered she had told him the year-round warm climate appealed to her. She had believed her brother's outrageous lie.

"Aye, you're naive all right," he said again.

Long minutes passed before Gabriel decided to finally answer her question.

"Johanna?"

She didn't answer him. He leaned down, kissed the top of her head, and then whispered, " 'Tis the truth, I am pleased I married you."

Chapter 6

Johanna awakened to the sound of pounding. A crash followed. She thought the roof had caved in. She bolted up in the bed just as the door opened. Gabriel walked inside. She grabbed hold of the covers and pulled them up to cover her chest.

She knew she looked a sight. Her hair hung down over her face, obstructing her view. She clutched the covers with one hand and brushed her hair back over her shoulders with her other hand.

"Good morning, Laird MacBain."

He found her attempt at modesty amusing, considering the fact that he'd stroked every inch of her body during the night. She was blushing, too.

"After last night, I don't believe you need to be embarrassed with me, Johanna."

She nodded. "I will try not to be embarrassed," she promised.

Gabriel walked over to the foot of the bed. He clasped his hands behind his back and frowned at her.

She smiled back.

"It isn't morning," he announced, "but afternoon."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "I was exhausted," she blurted out in defense of having slept half the day away. "I'm usually awake at dawn, m'lord, but the journey here was very tiring. What is that pounding noise I'm hearing?" She added the question in an attempt to turn the topic away from her laziness.

"The men are working on the new roof above the great hall."

He noticed the dark circles under her eyes. Her skin was pale. He was sorry he'd awakened her. Then the hammering started again, and he realized that noise would have shaken her awake anyway. Gabriel decided he shouldn't have allowed the work on the roof to begin today. His bride needed rest, not distraction.

"Was there something you wanted, m'lord?"

"I wanted to give you your instructions."

She smiled again, an indication, she hoped, of her willingness to take on whatever duties he wanted to give her.

"Today you will wear the MacBain plaid. Tomorrow you will switch to the Maclaurin colors."

"I will?"

"You will."

"Why?"

"You're mistress here over both clans and must try not to slight either faction. It would be an insult if you wore my colors two days in a row. Do you understand?"

He believed he'd been very specific. "Nay," she replied. "I don't understand. Aren't you laird over both clans?"

"I am."

"So you are, therefore, considered everyone's leader?"

"That is so."

He sounded terribly arrogant. He looked arrogant, too. His presence was… commanding. He fairly towered over the bed. And yet he'd been so incredibly gentle last night. The memory of their lovemaking made her sigh.

"Now do you understand me?" he asked, perplexed by the wide-eyed stare she was giving him.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "No, I still don't understand," she confessed. "If you're…"

"It isn't your place to understand," he announced.

She hid her exasperation. He seemed to want her agreement. He wasn't going to get it. She simply continued to stare at him and wait for his next outrageous remark.

"There is one more instruction I would give you," Gabriel said. "I don't want you to concern yourself with work of any kind. I want you to rest."

She was certain she hadn't heard him correctly. "Rest?"

"Yes."

"In heaven's name why?"

He frowned over her incredulous expression. It was apparent to him why she should rest. Still, if she needed to hear his reason, he would give it.

"It's going to take you time to recover."

"Recover from what?"

"From your journey here."

"But I've already recovered, m'lord. I slept the morning away. I'm fully rested now."

He turned to leave. "Gabriel?" she called out to stop him.

"I asked you not to call me by that name."

"Last night you demanded I say your name," she reminded him.

"When?"

She immediately started blushing. "When we were… kissing."

He remembered. "That was different," he told her.

"What was? Kissing me or demanding I say your name?"

He didn't answer her.

"Gabriel is a fine name."

"I am through discussing this," he announced.

She didn't know what to make of his behavior. She decided to put the matter of his name aside for the moment. He was reaching for the door latch and she wanted to ask him something before he left. "May I go hunting this afternoon?"

"I've just explained I want you to rest. Don't make me repeat myself."

"But you aren't making any sense at all, m'lord." He turned around and walked back to the side of the bed. He looked irritated, but only mildly so. He didn't intimidate her. The realization popped into her mind all at once. She smiled in reaction. She didn't under stand why she felt that way, but she did. She was actually speaking her mind, too, and that was a pleasant first in a long, long while. It felt… liberating.

"I've already explained I've recovered from my journey here," she reminded him.

He clasped her jaw in his hand and tilted her head back so she would have to look into his eyes. He almost smiled when he saw how disgruntled she looked.

"There is another reason I want you to rest," he announced.

She gently nudged his hand away. She was getting a crick in her neck looking up at him. "And what might your reason be, m'lord?"

"You're weak."

She shook her head. "You mentioned that opinion last night, husband. It wasn't true then and it isn't true now."

"You are weak, Johanna," he repeated, ignoring her protest. "It's going to take you time to build up your strength. I'm aware of your limitations, even if you aren't."

He didn't give her time to argue over his decision. He leaned down, kissed her, and then left the chamber.

As soon as the door closed behind him, she threw off the covers and got out of bed.

How could her husband form such unbending opinions about her character so quickly? He couldn't possibly know her limitations. He hadn't known her long enough. It was unreasonable for him to draw any conclusions about her.

Johanna continued to think about her husband while she washed and dressed. Father MacKechnie had explained what she would be expected to wear underneath the plaid. She put on the Highland dress, a white long-sleeved underblouse and skirt, then donned the MacBain plaid. She fashioned perfect pleats around her waist, tossed one end of the long strip of material over her right shoulder so the plaid would cover her heart, and secured the garment with a narrow brown leather belt.

She thought about unpacking her bow and arrows and ignoring her husband's command altogether, then changed her mind. Open defiance probably wouldn't sit well with Gabriel. She had already learned he was a proud man, and she didn't believe she could achieve anything by challenging his decision.