God's truth, she was having an unusual reaction to this barbarian. Jamie decided she was just as exhausted as Mary was. Surely that was the reason Alec Kincaid was beginning to appeal to her. He was almost handsome now, in a raw, primitive way, of course. A lock of his hair had fallen on his forehead, giving him a rascal's appearance. That was unfor tunate, a worry as well, for Jamie always did have a liking for glib-tongued carefree rascals.

Without a thought to the consequences, she reached up and brushed the errant lock back where it belonged. She didn't want him to look like a rascal; she wanted him to stay mean-looking. Then her heart would surely quit pounding so loud in her ears and she'd be able to catch her breath, wouldn't she?

Alec didn't move when she touched him, but he liked the feel of her hand on his forehead. The gentle ministration surprised him. He wanted her to touch him again. "Why did you do that?" he asked, his tone mild.

"Your hair is too long," Jamie answered, not daring to give him the truth.

"It isn't."

"You'll have to cut it."

"Why?"

"I can't trust a man whose hair is almost as long as mine," she muttered.

Her explanation sounded ridiculous to her. She blushed and frowned to cover her embarrassment.

"I asked you if you were always so serious," Alec reminded her with a grin.

"You did?"

Heaven help her, she couldn't seem to keep her mind on the conversation. It was all his fault, of course, for smiling her thoughts right out of her mind.

"I did."

Alec kept his amusement contained, for he guessed his bride would think he was laughing at her. For some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't want to harm her tender feelings. An odd reaction, he told himself, as he'd never been one to care overmuch for any woman's feelings.

He certainly cared now, he realized, even as he excused his behavior by reminding himself that she was English bred, after all, and therefore apt to be more skittish than a strong Highland lass.

Jamie was wringing her hands. Alec doubted she was aware of that telling action.

It was a sign of fear, yet she contradicted the weakness by valiantly meeting his gaze now. Her high cheekbones were tinged pink with embarrassment. He knew she had to be as exhausted as her sister was. Neither woman seemed to have much stamina. The pace he'd set had been rigorous but necessary, because as long as they were on English soil, they were in danger. Yet his new bride hadn't complained or begged to stop, and that fact pleased him considerably. Gavin, Alec's second-in-command, would say she had grit. It was a high compliment for a Highlander to give a woman, and one Jamie had already earned just by standing up to him.

Gavin would have a hearty laugh if he could see his laird now, Alec decided. The smile faded from his face when he realized he was acting like a simpleton. He'd never spent this much time talking with a woman before. Yet now he was staring at his wife just like a man who'd never seen a pretty woman before. Hell, he was physically reacting to her, too; he could feel himself getting hard.

It was time to dismiss her from his thoughts.

"You're wringing your hands," he muttered as he reached out to stop that action.

"I was pretending it was your neck," Jamie said in reaction to his sudden scowl.

"And, yes, milord, I am serious most of the time," she rushed on, hoping to take his mind off her insult. "When I'm leaving England, I'm very serious. I'm leaving my cherished homeland."

"'Tis the same reason I'm smiling," Alec said.

He wasn't smiling now, but Jamie decided not to mention that fact. "You're happy because you're going home?"

"Because we're going home." His voice was back to sounding like steel again.

"England is my home."

"Was," he corrected, determined to set her straight. "Scotland is your home now."

"You wish me to give my loyalty to Scotland?"

"Wish?" he asked, grinning. "I don't wish it, wife. I command it. You'll be loyal to Scotland and to me."

She was back to wringing her hands. She had raised her voice to him when she asked her question, too, but Alec decided not to take exception to her behavior.

He knew she needed time to sort the problem out in her mind. Because he was such a patient man, he decided to give her an hour or two to agree.

He thought he was being very courteous, and cautioned himself against letting such consideration become a habit.

"Let me understand this," Jamie began. "You really think I'm going-"

"It's very simple, wife. If you're loyal to Scotland, you're loyal to me. You'll see the rightness of it once you've settled in."

"Once I've what?" Her voice was suspiciously soft.

"Once you've settled in," Alec repeated.

Her throat started aching with the need to shout at this arrogant man. Then she remembered Beak's suggestion not to nudge the laird's temper until she knew what kind of reaction she was going to get.

She'd better be cautious, she decided. It was common knowledge that Scots lashed out before thinking better of it. They all beat their wives as often as the inclination came over them. "Sheep settle in, Kincaid. I'm a lady, if you haven't taken the time to notice."

"I've noticed."

The way he drew out that remark made her heart quicken. "Yes," she stammered.

"Women, you see, don't settle in. It isn't at all the same."

"It is," he contradicted with a lazy grin.

"No, it isn't," she snapped. "You'll have to take my word on this."

"Are you challenging me, English?"

His voice was hard enough to frighten her, but he was determined to make her understand her place.

He waited for her to cringe… and apologize.

"I am challenging you," Jamie announced, nodding vigorously when he looked incredulous.

God's truth, he didn't know what to make of her now. Her voice and stance reeked with authority. She wasn't wringing her hands together, either, they were fisted at her sides. Alec knew he really shouldn't let her get away with her insolence.

A wife should always agree with her husband. Jamie obviously hadn't heard of this sacred dictate, however. Why, she dared to stand up to him as though she were his equal.

That thought forced a deep chuckle. The woman was definitely daft, but she did have grit.

"I've been in England too long," he admitted, "else I'd find your arguments overbearing, wife."

"Will you quit calling me 'wife'? I have a name. Can you not call me Jamie?"

"It's a man's name."

She wanted to throttle him. "It's my name."

"We'll find another."

"We will not."

"Dare you argue with me again?"

She wished she were as big as he was. He wouldn't dare laugh at her then. Jamie took a deep breath. "You say my arguments are overbearing, yet perhaps once I've settled in, as you've so obscenely put it, you'll get rid of your confusion and see the lightness in what I'm saying."

"Since I haven't the faintest idea what it is you're saying, I doubt it," he countered.

"Now you've insulted me."

"I have?"

"You have."

He shrugged his big shoulders. "It's my right, wife."

She began a prayer for patience. "I see," she whispered hoarsely. "Then I must assume it's also my right to insult you."

"It doesn't work that way."

Jamie gave up. The man was as stubborn as she was. "Have we crossed the border yet?"

Alec shook his head. "We've only a stone's throw to go."

"Then why were you smiling?"

"In anticipation."

"Oh."

Alec started to turn his back on her, but Jamie stayed the action with her next question. "Alec? You really dislike England, don't you?"

She hadn't been able to keep the amazement out of her voice. The very idea of anyone disliking her land was simply beyond her comprehension. Everyone loved England, even dull-witted Scotsmen who liked to throw trees at one another. Why, England was the Rome of modern times. Its grandeur couldn't be denied.