A faint whistle sounded from the forest a fair distance away from them. The trees suddenly seemed to come alive when men wearing brown and yellow plaid began to walk toward them.

Jamie didn't realize she was clutching Alec's leg until his hand covered hers.

"They're allies, Jamie."

She immediately let go of him, straightened her back, and refolded her hands in her lap. "I guessed as much," she whispered.

It was a lie, made blacker still when she added, "Even from this distance I can see them smiling."

"An eagle couldn't see their faces from this distance," he answered dryly.

"We English have perfect eyesight."

Alec finally turned to look at her. "Are you jesting with me, wife?"

"You decide, husband."

"Aye, you are," Alec answered. "I've already learned all about the English sense of humor."

"And what have you learned?"

"You don't have any."

"That isn't true," Jamie argued. "Why, I have the most wonderful sense of humor." After making that emphatic statement, she turned her face away from him.

"Jamie?"

"Aye, Alec?"

"When they reach us, keep your gaze directed on me. Do not look at anyone else.

Do you understand?"

"You don't want me to look at any of them?"

"That's correct."

"Why?"

"Don't question my motives, wife."

His voice had become as brisk as the rising wind. "Should I speak to them?"

"No."

"They'll think me rude."

"They'll think you subservient."

"I'm not."

"You will be."

Jamie felt her face heat up. She frowned at Alec, but it was wasted effort for he was staring straight ahead again, ignoring her. "Perhaps, Alec, I should get off my horse and kneel at your feet. Then your allies will surely see how very subservient your wife is."

She didn't care that her voice shook with anger. "Well, milord?"

"The suggestion has merit," he answered.

He didn't sound as if he was jesting with her. Jamie was too astonished by his outrageous comment to think of a clever comeback.

She wasn't about to let her displeasure show in front of strangers, though, no matter how upset she was with her husband. Oh, she'd play the obedient wife, all right, until she and Alec were alone again. Then she was going to blister his ears.

When the allies finally reached them, Jamie kept her gaze directed on her husband's hard profile. It took all her concentration to keep her expression devoid of any true emotion. Serenity was simply too much to ask for.

Alec never even looked her way. The conversation was in Gaelic. Jamie understood most of the words, even though the dialect was a little different from the Lowland Gaelic that Beak had taught her.

Alec didn't know she was fluent in his language, and his ignorance gave her a perverse satisfaction. She decided then and there she was never going to enlighten him.

She listened to him refuse the allies' offer of drink, food, and shelter as well. His hard, unyielding manner was that of a mighty warlord now, and when they'd finished with their offers and he'd finished with his refusals, they reported to him the latest happenings among the clans.

Jamie knew they were staring at her. She tried to keep her expression tranquil.

In true desperation she offered her Maker a month of daily masses and one litany if he'd only help her through this humiliating ordeal.

Alec was ashamed of her. That sudden realization made her want to weep. Her self-pity lasted only a minute or two. Then she became furious. How dare he be ashamed of her? She knew she wasn't as pretty as most, but she wasn't horribly disfigured, either. Once her papa had even called her beautiful. Of course, it was his duty to give her such praise; she was his baby after all, and his opinion was certainly colored. Still, she'd never noticed people turning their faces away from her so they wouldn't lose their supper.

When Alec reached over and took hold of Wildfire's reins, Jamie was pulled back to the conversation. She heard one of his allies ask who she was.

"My wife."

There hadn't been a tinge of pride in his voice. God's truth, he could have been referring to his dog. No, she qualified; his dog probably meant more to him.

He hadn't gagged over the words either, Jamie decided, trying to find something redeeming in his attitude.

Alec was about to nudge his mount forward through the throng of warriors when another ally called out. "By what name is she called, Kincaid?"

He took a long time answering. Alec slowly scanned his audience. The look on his face chilled Jamie. His expression could have been carved in stone.

And then he answered at last. His voice, as cold as sleet, lashed out like a battle cry.

"Mine."

Chapter Eight

She was beginning to think he wasn't human. Alec never seemed to get hungry or thirsty or tired. The only time he stopped to rest was when Jamie asked him to, and God only knew how she hated asking him for anything.

An Englishman certainly would have seen to his wife's comforts. Alec had difficulty remembering he had a wife. Jamie felt as wanted as a thorn in his side.

She was exhausted, guessed she probably looked as worn out as an old hag, too, then told herself it didn't matter what she looked like. Alec had made his position perfectly dear when he refused to introduce her to his allies. She didn't appeal to him at all.

Well, he wasn't any prize, either, she decided. His hair was almost as long as hers, for God's sake, and if that wasn't a primitive inclination, she didn't know what was.

Her feelings about her husband might not have been so black if his attitude had been a little more pleasant. The mountain air had obviously affected his mind, for the higher they climbed, the more distant and cold his manner became.

He had more flaws than Satan. The man couldn't even count. He'd specifically told her it would take them three days to reach his holding, yet here they were, camped for their fifth night, and still not another Kincaid plaid in sight.

Was his sense of direction as poor as his ability to count? Jamie decided she was too tired to worry about that possibility. As soon as Alec turned his attention to the horses, Jamie walked to the lake to gain a few moments' privacy. She stripped down to her chemise, washed as best she could in the frigid water Alec called a loch, then stretched out on the grassy slope. She was bone-weary. She thought to just close her eyes for a few minutes before getting dressed again. In truth, the bitterness in the air didn't even bother her.

A thick mist rolled into the glen. Alec gave Jamie as much time as he thought she needed to see to her bath, but when the haze covered his bare feet, he called out to her, commanding that she come to him.

His summons went unanswered. Alec's heart started pounding. He wasn't worried that his enemies had caught her unaware. No, they were on Kincaid land now, in a protected area none but his own would dare to breach. Still, she hadn't answered him. Alec broke through the lush green foliage and came to an abrupt stop. His breath caught in his throat at the sight he came upon.

She looked like a beautiful goddess. She was sound asleep. The fog floated around her, giving her a mystical appearance. The streamers of sunlight only added to that fantasy, for her skin was a true golden color. She was sleeping on her side. The white chemise she wore rode high on her hip, revealing her long legs.

He stood there a long while, drinking his fill. Desire swelled up inside him until it became almost painful. She was simply magnificent to him. He remembered what it felt like to have those legs wrapped around him, remembered the feel of her when he thrust inside.

His wife. A fierce surge of possessiveness shook him. He knew he wouldn't last another night without making love to her again. His promise to wait until they'd reached his holding wasn't going to last. This time, however, he was determined to go slowly. He would be a tender, undemanding lover. And he'd be gentle… even if it killed him.