Julie Garwood - Saving Grace

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When Lady Johanna learned that she was a widow, she vowed she would never marry again. Only sixteen, she possessed a strength of will that impressed all who looked past her golden-haired beauty. Yet when King John demanded that she remarry—and selected a bridegroom for her—it seemed she must acquiesce, until her beloved foster brother suggested she wed his friend, the handsome Scottish warrior Gabriel MacBain.
At first Johanna was shy, but as Gabriel tenderly revealed the splendid pleasures they would share, she came to suspect that she was falling in love with her gruff new husband. And it was soon apparent to the entire Highlands clan that their brusque, gallant laird had surrendered his heart completely. But now a desperate royal intrigue threatened to tear her from his side—and to destroy the man whose love meant more to her than she had ever dreamed!

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Hell, she looked terrified again. That reaction didn't sit well with him. He tried to use reason once again to gain her cooperation. He wasn't an ogre after all. He could be reasonable.

"Have you changed your mind in the past few minutes and now want to go back to England? Nicholas told me leaving England appealed to you."

"No, I haven't changed my mind, but…"

"Can you afford to pay the fine your king demands to stay unwed?"

"No."

"Is it Baron Williams? Nicholas mentioned to me that the Englishman wanted to marry you." He didn't give her time to answer. "It doesn't matter. I won't let you leave. No other man is going to have you."

"I don't prefer Baron Williams."

"I take it from the disgust in your voice this baron is also a handsome giant?"

"He's handsome only if you find pigs attractive, m'lord, and he's a small man in size with an even smaller mind. He is completely unacceptable to me."

"I see," MacBain drawled out. "So you dislike both large and small men. Have I got that right?"

"You're making fun of me."

"No, I'm making fun of your daft statements. Nicholas is just as big as I am," he reminded her.

"Yes, but my brother would never hurt me."

The truth was out. She'd blurted out the words before she could stop herself. MacBain raised one eyebrow in reaction to the telling statement.

Johanna turned her gaze to the floor but not before he saw her blush.

"Please try to understand, Laird. If a pup bit me, I would have a fair chance of surviving, but if a wolf bit me, I don't believe I would have any chance at all."

She was trying so damned hard to be brave and failing miserably. Her terror was real and, MacBain speculated, learned from past experiences.

Long minutes passed in silence. MacBain stared at her. She stared at the floor.

"Did your husband…"

"I will not talk about him."

He had his answer. He took a step toward her. She didn't back away. He put his hands on her shoulders and commanded her to look up at him. She took her time obeying.

His voice was a low, gruff whisper when he spoke. "Johanna?"

"Yes, m'lord?"

"I don't bite."

Chapter 4

They were married the following afternoon. MacBain agreed to wait that long so Father MacKechnie could prepare for the ceremony.

It was the only issue he was willing to bend on, however. Johanna wanted to return to the campsite and stay the night in her own tent near her brother, the priest, and her loyal men. Laird MacBain wouldn't hear of it. He ordered her to sleep in one of the newly built cottages along the hill, a tiny one-room affair with a single window and a stone hearth.

Johanna didn't see the laird again until the ceremony, nor did she see her brother until he came to collect her. MacBain had posted two guards outside her door. She was afraid to ask if the soldiers were there to keep outsiders from entering or to keep her from leaving.

She didn't get much sleep. Her mind raced from one worry to another. What if MacBain turned out to be like Raulf? Dear God, could she survive purgatory again? The possibility that she could be marrying another monster made her weep with self-pity. She was immediately ashamed of herself. Was she really such a coward after all? Had Raulf been right to ridicule her?

No, no, she was a strong woman. She could handle anything that came her way. She would not give in to the fear or allow herself to have such low thoughts about herself. She had value, damn it… didn't she?

Johanna had believed her confidence in herself had returned after Raulf's death. For the first time in over three years, she lived without fear. Her days were filled with blissful peace. Even after King John had dragged her to his court, he left her alone in her own private chambers. No one bothered her. There was a garden directly outside her door. She spent most of her days there.

The peaceful interlude was over, however, and she was now being forced into another marriage. She was bound to disappoint the laird. And what would he do then? Would he try to make her feel ignorant and unworthy? By God, she wouldn't let that happen. Raulf's attacks had been so cleverly disguised, and she'd been so young and childishly naive, she hadn't realized until it was almost too late exactly what he was doing. It was a slow, insidious attack upon her character, relentless too, and it went on and on and on until she felt as though he'd sucked the very light out of her.

She tried to fight back then. And that was when the beatings began.

Johanna forced herself to block the memories. She fell asleep praying for a miracle.

Nicholas came to get her during the nooning hour. He took one look at her pale face and shook his head.

"Have you so little faith in your brother's judgment? I have told you MacBain's an honorable man," he reminded her. "You have no reason to fear him."

She placed her hand on her brother's arm and walked by his side. "I do have faith in your judgment," she whispered.

Her voice lacked conviction, but he wasn't insulted. He understood her fear. The memory of seeing her battered face when he'd stopped to pay a visit, and Raulf hadn't had time to hide her away, instantly filled him with rage yet again.

"Please don't frown, Nicholas. I'm conquering my fear. It will be all right."

Nicholas smiled. He couldn't believe his sister was actually trying to comfort him now.

"Aye, your marriage will be all right," he said. "Do you know, if you would just look around you, you'd catch a glimpse of your future husband's character. Where did you sleep last night?"

"You know very well where I slept."

"It's a brand-new cottage, isn't it?"

He didn't give her time to answer. "I can see three others from here, all looking freshly built. The wood hasn't weathered yet."

"What is it you're trying to tell me?"

"A selfish man would consider his own comforts first, wouldn't he?"

"Yes."

"Do you see a new keep?"

"No."

"Calum is MacBain's first-in-command over the MacBain warriors, Johanna, and he told me the cottages are for the elderly in the clan. They come first, for they are most in need of warm fires and roofs over their heads at night. MacBain puts himself last. Think about that, Johanna. I found out there are two bedchambers on the east side above the stairs in the keep proper. Neither was disturbed by fire. Yet MacBain hasn't spent a single night there. He sleeps outside with the other soldiers. Doesn't that tell you something about the man's character?"

Her smile was all the answer he required.

The color came back into her face. Nicholas nodded with satisfaction.

They had almost reached the edge of the courtyard when they stopped to watch the crowd of men and women working to prepare for the ceremony. Since the chapel had been gutted by fire, the wedding would take place in the courtyard. A makeshift altar consisting of a wide, flat wooden board was propped on top of two empty ale barrels. A woman spread a white linen cloth over the board. Father MacKechnie waited until the covering was in place, then put a beautiful golden chalice and plate in the center. Two more women were kneeling on the ground in front of the barrels, arranging bouquets of flowers in front of the wood.

Johanna started walking forward again. Nicholas took hold of her hand to stop her.

"There is something more you need to know," he began.

"Yes?"

"Do you see the child sitting on the top step?"

She turned to look. A little boy, surely no more than four or five summers, sat all alone on the top step. His elbows rested on his knees, and his head was propped up by his hands. He was watching the preparations. He looked terribly unhappy.

"I see him," Johanna said. "He looks forlorn, doesn't he, Nicholas?"

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