"I'd have you mind your own affairs," Alec snapped.

"He was cruel to her."

"Aye, he was," Mary shouted, catching her sister's fever. "If it isn't convenient for me to stay here, then I'll find my way back to England."

"I just might lead the way," Jamie muttered. She folded her hands together and waited for Alec to respond to that threat.

"You'd end up in Normandy," Alec predicted.

Before Jamie could answer, Alec turned to Mary. He glared at her until she left his wife's side; then he hauled Jamie into his arms. His grip was like steel.

Jamie didn't resist, knowing how futile that would be. Besides, she'd just spotted Father Murdock standing on the steps, watching them.

She certainly didn't want a man of the cloth to think she was unladylike.

"I'm not going home with you, Daniel," Mary shouted.

That challenge didn't go unanswered. Daniel moved with astonishing speed for such a big man. Before Mary could let out a full scream, she found herself face down over her husband's lap in the saddle.

Jamie desperately tried to maintain her dignity through this monstrous situation. Poor Mary was draped over the saddle like a sack of barley. It was a humiliation, aye, but Jamie still wished Mary wouldn't carry on so. Her bellows of outrage were drawing even more attention to her sorry plight.

"I can't stand idle while he shames her this way," Jamie whispered.

"Oh, yes you can," Alec stated.

"Alec, do something."

"I'm not going to interfere and neither are you," he answered. "Mary's getting off lightly, Jamie. Daniel's temper is almost as fierce as my own. Your sister has disgraced her husband."

Jamie watched Daniel and Mary until they'd disappeared across the planks.

"He won't really hurt her, will he, Alec?"

Her fear was very evident. Alec thought it unreasonable. "He won't beat her, if that's what you're worrying about," he answered. "Mary's his problem now."

"She forgot her horse."

"She won't be needing it."

Jamie was staring up at Alec's mouth, remembering what it felt like to be kissed by him. It was such a foolish thought, especially now, what with Mary's problem still to be solved, but she couldn't seem to help herself.

"Perhaps I shall take her horse over to her tomorrow," Jamie said, wondering how she could get him to kiss her again.

He let go of her and started to walk away. She didn't want him to leave just yet. "Alec? You said Daniel's temper was almost as quick as your own, yet you told me you didn't have a temper. 'Tis an odd contradiction, don't you think?"

"You misunderstood," Alec answered. "I told you I wouldn't lose my temper with you."

He started down the hill. Jamie picked up her skirts and chased after him. "When do you lose your temper, then?"

He couldn't resist the temptation. His wife was so incredibly easy to bait. He didn't turn around because he didn't want her to see his smile. "When it's something that matters to me. Something important."

Her gasp made his smile widen.

"Jamie?"

"What is it?" She sounded as if she wanted to throttle him.

"Don't inconvenience me again."

It was the last insult she was going to take from him. "Look, Kincaid, it isn't necessary to harp on the fact that you find me so vastly inferior. I understand your meaning clearly," she announced. "If I were to run away, you wouldn't even come after me, would you?"

He didn't answer her.

"Well, of course you wouldn't come after me. I'm too insignificant to bother with?"

"No, I wouldn't come after you."

Jamie had to lower her gaze to the ground lest he turn around and see how much his words had hurt her.

Why did she care if he came after her or not? The man was a Scottish barbarian, she reminded herself.

"I'd send someone after you." He finally turned around and caught her in his arms. "But since you aren't going anywhere, the question isn't important, is it?"

"I'm beginning to dislike you immensely, Alec Kincaid."

"You really should do something about your temper, English." He brushed his hand across her cheek. "Try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone."

It was as much of a good-bye as she was going to get, she supposed, when he mounted his steed and left her staring after him.

Her hand touched her cheek where Alec had stroked her.

Then she straightened her shoulders and jerked her hand away.

She almost hated him. Almost.

She remembered he'd given her permission to rearrange his kitchens. It was only a little chore, she realized, but it was still a beginning. He would come to depend on her eventually, when he saw how much nicer his home was going to be.

Jamie straightened her shoulders and started up the hill. She'd best get started right away.

She smiled with new enthusiasm. Alec had given her a duty.

Chapter Twelve

Word of Lady Kincaid's remarkable healing ability swept through the Highlands as swiftly as a storm. The tale of Angus's recovery wasn't exaggerated, however, for the truth was thought to be impressive enough not to need flowering around the borders. The recounting always began the same way, too, with the announcement that the Kincaid warrior had just been given the last rites, he had, and was only a breath away from death. That beginning always gained just the amount of astonishment each storyteller wanted.

The members of the clans attending the annual spring festival at Gillebrid's holding heard the news a short half-day after they'd been told Angus was dead.

Lydia Louise, Angus's younger sister and only relative, save for his wife, Elizabeth, was in quite a state. She wept first with true anguish over her brother's untimely death, then wept with acute relief over his miraculous recovery. By long day's end, the confused woman had to be given a sizable dose of heavy wine and forcefully put to bed.

None of the McPherson clan attended the festival. The old chieftain's only child, a son of just three wee months, was doing so poorly the clan was convinced he was dying. The bairn, given a stubborn streak he'd inherited from his father, had suddenly taken an extreme dislike to his mama's milk. The violent vomiting after each feeding had soon made him too weak to suckle at all.

Laird McPherson had gone off to find solace in his peaceful woods. His grief was nearly uncontrollable. He wept like a child, for he fully expected to bury his namesake when he returned to his home.

It was a fact the Fergusons were united with the McPhersons against the hated fishermen, the McCoys. That feud had existed for so many years no one could recollect the beginning. The Kincaids, on the other hand, were allies with the McCoys, ever since a McCoy warrior fished a drowning Kincaid lass out of the river, and the Kincaids were therefore forced, for honor's sake, to stand beside the McCoys against the McPhersons.

Yet when word reached Lady Cecily McPherson of Lady Kincaid's healing skills, she ignored all the laws of the Highlands.

Cecily McPherson would have bargained with the devil to save her child. Without telling anyone her plan, she took the infant to the Ferguson holding and begged Lady Ferguson's assistance. Mary was most sympathetic to the poor woman's plight. Since Daniel was still away on the hunt for Angus's attackers, she didn't have to bother gaining his permission. She immediately took the little one to Jamie.

All the Kincaid soldiers knew whom the child belonged to, of course, as everyone in the mountains knew everyone else's business. None mentioned to their mistress the fact that she was taking care of their enemy's son, though. They guessed it wouldn't matter to her. Lady Kincaid was English, after all, and therefore ignorant of the feuds existing in their land. She was a woman, too, and the mothering instinct would probably mean more to her than war. Just as important, she was too gentle to understand a feud, and from the way she'd demanded to take over Angus's care in the face of Alec's resistance, she'd proven to be a mite too stubborn to understand.