Free Highland Warrior by Connie Mason Page A

indignantly but rose nonetheless and stomped off to join Niall. Gordo left at the same time.
    “You didna have to send Seana away on my account, MacKenna,” Gillian said. “One night in your bed was enough for me. Seana may take my place with my blessing.”
    Ross glared at her. “Doubtless your father would renew the feud if he learned I was keeping a leman. I told you before, Gillian, but I will tell you again so you willna mistake my meaning: You are my wife, and I expect to come to your bed whenever I choose.”
    “Where will you be when you do not come to me?” Gillian challenged, though she had no idea why she cared. If Ross wasn’t in bed with her, then he wouldn’t be demanding his marital rights. Naught hurt her pride more than the knowledge that MacKenna could control her body so easily.
    “Where I will be is none of your concern,” Ross replied. “But know this—it willna be in Seana’s bed.”
    “Then whose—”
    “I’ll be gone most of the day,” Ross said, cutting off her sentence as he beckoned to a man sitting nearby. The man rose and advanced toward the high table. “Donald will show you around Ravenscraig and introduce you to the cook and servants. You might as well become acquainted with your duties as my wife.”
    “Who is Donald?”
    “A kinsman. He’s been running Ravenscraig since my mother’s death last year, but I’m sure he’ll welcome the chance to turn some of his duties over to you.”
    Gillian watched Donald approach. Somewhat older than Ross, he had the body of a seasoned warrior.
    “Donald,” Ross greeted him, “my wife would like a tour of the tower. Will you do the honors?”
    “Shouldna that be your duty, lad?” Donald asked.
    “My duty is driving the livestock down from the hills to their winter pasture.”
    So saying, he strode off without so much as a good-bye. Donald scowled at his departing back before turning his scowl on Gillian. “Are you ready to see your new home, lass?”
    “A moment, please,” Gillian replied. “There is something I wish to do first. Wait here for me.”
    Without further explanation, Gillian strode off and mounted the stairs to the gallery, where the stained sheet still flew from the railing. She wadded the offending linen into a ball, returned forthwith to the hall, and flung it into the blazing hearth. She watched it catch fire and burn before she rejoined Donald.
    “Now I am ready,” she said. “But I have no intention of taking over your duties. Apparently you have been doing a good job overseeing the everyday running of Ravenscraig.”
    “I’ve done what I had to do, but I willna be sorry to transfer some of the responsibility to your shoulders.”
    His coolness toward her did not escape Gillian. “You doona like me, do you?”
    “I like you as well as you like me. You are the laird’s wife. I will treat you with respect even though you are a MacKay. Come along, lass; we will start with the tower and work down, although I doubt you will wish to see the dungeons.”
    “Ravenscraig has dungeons?”
    “Oh, aye, but they havena been used since the early days. Ross keeps the only key to the lower levels.”
    Donald strode off. Gillian had to hurry to catch up with him. She spent the next two hours exploring her new home. The tower room was unoccupied, but some of the chambers on the floors below were occupied by Ross’s uncle, various kinsmen, and servants who worked and lived in the keep.
    All things taken into consideration, the keep was in good repair. As with all castles, the corridors were drafty and the corners were draped with cobwebs, but at the end of the tour Gillian was duly impressed. The last place Donald took her was to the kitchen, where he introduced her to the cook and left her.
    The tense silence that ensued prompted Gillian to say, “I doona intend to interfere with your cooking or menu. The kitchen is your domain, and so it shall remain. I know naught about cooking and menus.”
    Hanna visibly