She repeated her question to the priest. "Aye, they do like to fight," Father MacKechnie agreed.

"Why is that, do you suppose?"

"It's considered honorable," the priest explained.

Johanna missed a stitch, frowned, and set about righting the damage. She kept her gaze on her task when she asked her husband if he agreed with the priest.

"Aye, it is honorable," Gabriel said.

She found their opinions daft. "Banging heads together is considered honorable? I can't imagine why, m'lord."

Gabriel smiled. Johanna's choice of words, added to her exasperated tone of voice, amused him.

"Fighting lets the Highlanders show off those qualities they most admire, lass," the priest explained. "Courage, loyalty to their leader, and endurance."

"No warrior wishes to die in his bed," Gabriel interjected.

"They consider it a sin," the priest advised.

She dropped her needle and looked up at the men. She was certain they were jesting with her. They both looked sincere, however. She still wasn't convinced. "Which sin would that be?" she asked, her suspicion apparent.

"Sloth," Gabriel told her.

She almost snorted. She caught herself in time. "You must think me naive to believe that tall tale," she scoffed.

"Aye, you are naive, Johanna, but we aren't jesting with you. We do consider it a sin to die in our beds."

She shook her head so he'd know she wasn't believing any of his nonsense, then went back to sewing. The priest continued with his news. Gabriel was having difficulty paying attention. His gaze kept returning to his wife.

She enchanted him. Contentment such as he'd never known before swelled inside his chest. When he was very young and foolish and all alone, he would fall asleep each night thinking about his future. He made up dreams about the family he would have. His wife and his children would belong only to him, and they would, of course, live in his castle. Gabriel often pictured his wife sitting by the fire doing some feminine task… such as sewing.

The images he'd conjured up in his mind as a little boy kept the harsh reality of his stark life from overwhelming him. The fantasies helped him survive.

Yes, he'd been terribly young and tender back then. Time and training had toughened him, however, and he'd outgrown the need for such foolish dreams. He no longer felt the need to belong. He'd learned to depend solely upon himself. Dreams were for the weak. Aye, he thought to himself, he was strong now and his dreams were all but forgotten.

Until now. The memories came flooding back as he stared at his wife.

Reality was a hell of a lot better than fantasies, Gabriel decided. He'd never imagined having a wife as beautiful as Johanna. He hadn't known what contentment was or how he would feel or how fierce his need would become to protect her.

Johanna happened to look up and caught her husband staring at her. His expression puzzled her. He seemed to be staring through her as though he was lost in some important thought. Aye, he must be thinking about something troublesome, she guessed, because his frown had become ferocious.

"I could use a spot of uisgebreatha," Father MacKechnie announced. "Then I'll be looking for my bed. Lord, I'm weary tonight."

Johanna immediately got up to serve the priest. A jug filled with Highland brew was kept on the chest against the wall behind Gabriel. She carried the jug over to the table and filled the priest's goblet.

She turned to serve her husband next. Gabriel declined the drink with a shake of his head.

Father MacKechnie took a long swallow and promptly grimaced. "I'd wager this hasn't aged more than a week at most," he complained. "It tastes like sour swill."

Gabriel smiled. "You'll have to complain to Auggie. The drink came from his kettles."

Johanna's curiosity was captured by the priest's remark about aging. "Is it important how long the drink waits?"

"It ages, lass," the priest corrected. "It doesn't wait. And yes, it's important. The longer, the better, some experts say."

"How long?" she wanted to know.

"Why, as long as ten or twelve years in the oak barrels," Father MacKechnie speculated. "It takes a patient man to wait that long for a taste, of course."

"Is the drink more valuable then?"

Johanna put the jug down on the table. She stood next to her husband's side while she waited for the priest to finish his drink and answer her.

She put her hand on Gabriel's shoulder. Her gaze was intent upon the priest, and Gabriel doubted she was even aware she was touching him. The unconscious show of affection pleased him considerably, for it was proof to him that she'd completely conquered her fear of him. And that, he decided, was an important first step. He was out to gain her trust. Oh, he remembered demanding she give him her trust, but he'd realized right after giving her that high-handed order that trust would have to be earned. Gabriel believed he was a patient man. He would wait. In time she would realize her good fortune and value his protection. She would learn to trust him, and with that trust came loyalty.

A man couldn't ask for anything more from his wife.

The priest pulled him away from his thoughts when he said, "The drink is very valuable once it's been allowed to age. Men would kill for pure uisgebreatha. The Highlanders, you see, take their drinking seriously. 'Tis the reason they call it the water of life, lass."

"Would they barter for goods if aged brew was offered in trade?"

"Johanna, why does this topic interest you?" Gabriel asked.

She shrugged. She didn't want to tell him about the barrels of liquid gold Auggie had mentioned to her. She would have to gain permission from her friend first. She also wanted to see for herself that the barrels were still inside the cave. Besides, it would be a nice surprise for Gabriel; and if the value was as high as Johanna guessed, her husband would have something to barter with for supplies.

"Father, would you honor us by taking over the vacant chamber upstairs tonight?" Johanna asked.

The priest turned his gaze to his laird. He waited for him to extend his invitation.

"It's a comfortable bed, Father," Gabriel remarked.

Father MacKechnie smiled. "I'll be happy to take it," he said. "It's most hospitable of you to open your home to me."

Father MacKechnie stood up, bowed to his laird, and then went to collect his things. Johanna walked back over to her chair, gathered her tapestry and needle and put them back inside her bag. Gabriel waited for her near the entrance.

"You may leave your sewing on the chair, wife. No one will bother it."

Dumfries came back into the hall, passed Johanna on her way to the stairs, and growled at her. She patted the hound before continuing on.

Gabriel followed Johanna up the stairs. She seemed preoccupied with her thoughts while she prepared for bed. He added a log to the fire, then stood up, leaned against the mantel, and watched her.

"What are you thinking about?"

"This and that."

"That isn't a proper answer, Johanna."

"I was thinking about my life here."

"You've made the transition without much difficulty," he remarked. "You should be happy."

Johanna tied the belt to her robe and turned to her husband. "I haven't made any transition, Gabriel. 'Tis the truth I've been living in limbo. I've been caught between two worlds," she added with a nod.

Her husband sat down on the side of the bed and pulled his boots off.

"I meant to talk to you about this topic earlier today," she said. "But there didn't seem to be enough time."

"Exactly what is it you're trying to tell me?"

"You and all the others have been treating me like a visitor, Gabriel. Worse, I've been acting like one."

"Johanna, you aren't making any sense. I don't take strangers to my bed. You're my wife, not a visitor."