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Gwyn stood on the side of the hill scrutinizing eight-year-old Durell's actions as he rode his large pony across the tangled grass.

The summer afternoon was sunny and fair and a gentle breeze blew wisps of her hair around her.

Beneath her feet, she could feel the animal's hooves pounding persistently into the ground.

She smiled as the one she had known as her son sat proudly atop his steed as he listened intently to her commands.

"With only your knees, my son! Turn the beast in my direction. Now!"

After Gwyn spoke loudly of her instruction, she drew in a deep breath as she watched the young lad attempt to follow her directives.

While he made an obvious effort to squeeze his legs together, it was done with such an awkward movement the beast shook his head almost wildly while appearing confused.

In the end, it was the gentle tug on the reins that ultimately made the pony respond to his command.

"No, do not lead him with the reins! Just your knees, my dear."

"Oh mother, this is impossible!"

It was the strained frustration of the young lad that had Gwyn lovingly responding as only a mother could.

"Relax, my dear, and it will come. Remember, it is not only you who is learning but also your beast. Give him some time to get to know you better and he will soon understand your every unspoken command."

Gwyn nearly groaned in pain for what she had just spoken. ' Give him time to know you better …' While those words may definitely work upon the beast, it did not appear to make any difference upon a man. At least where her husband was concerned.

Gwyn thought back to those nine years ago when she had first come to live with the Chattan clan and took upon her husband, the Laird Errol.

She had been so scared and felt so all alone when she had first arrived.

Over the years, she had hoped those feelings of emptiness would change and he would grow to accept her.

What she found was that nothing really ever did.

While her husband never mistreated her, he simply never really acknowledged she existed. Ever.

The Laird Errol had also never touched her.

Gwyn understood that one of her father's directives had been that he would not consummate the marriage immediately.

However, when those several months had passed and after she had returned with Durell, she had assumed he would come to her bed and claim her as any husband should.

At least often enough to gain a bairn. He simply never did.

In fact, it was more like he avoided her entirely and as if she had been diseased.

While in the gathering hall or when they found themselves suddenly alone upon the stair, she had hoped desperately that he would approach her.

If nothing else, just to speak with her or treat her with a kindness.

When he did not, she took it upon herself and attempted to make conversation.

She had asked him questions of his day or of his person.

He rarely ever answered. Most oftentimes, he turned as if he had not heard any of her words.

When he did choose to respond, he provided very stilted answers. Eventually, Gwyn just quit trying.

"Mother!"

Gwyn was pulled from her distressing thoughts as her son drew near.

"Can I be relieved of this pitiful steed and be granted another? He is so old and I fear he can never learn what he needs to know before he dies of his old age!"

Gwyn understood his misery but knew his request was completely out of the question.

Little did Durell know she had to beg for this small pony he sat upon.

For reasons beyond even her own imaginings, her husband had denied her request for a real horse.

She had argued it did not have to be a large one, knowing there were several of smaller stature within their stables.

Gwyn could understand the disappointment within her young son's eyes and did everything in her power to dissuade him from pressing the point.

"Besides, I am the laird's son and I should be provided better stock than this old nag! Mother, it is so very embarrassing."

The laird's son. Sometimes Gwyn wished that were really true and it nearly broke her heart for her part in these deceptions.

It was not that she wished Durell to be related to her husband.

Instead, if he were truly the boy's father, then perhaps the laird would have actually taken some kind of interest in the lad.

As was, Gwyn was left completely on her own to raise him and had thus far taught him all she knew.

Gwyn understood he was much too young to be allowed to train with the older lads and men of the keep, so Gwyn took the challenge on herself.

So unbeknownst to her laird, she sought out the instruction of the Chattan's own.

While most were unwilling to provide her any insight, she had found the young lads of the keep were rather eager to show her all they knew.

Perhaps they were trying to impress her or show her of their skills, but it was information she deemed imperative.

Gwyn also spent many hours observing swordplay and the training of the steeds. While she never was allowed to inquire first hand, she gleaned much from pure observation.

Gwyn was concerned if she did not attempt to show her young son some of the ways of the men, he would never learn and would become soft. That is the last thing she wanted for Durell because she knew he would be laird someday. Just not laird of the Chattan as anyone would have assumed.

Her son. How it pained her to know that he was not.

She knew in her heart over these last eight years she had treated him as if he were and could not have loved anyone more.

Even though he was really her brother, she had as much of a maternal instinct as would any true mother.

She would also do everything to keep their secret and to keep him safe and guide him into becoming the best Highlander he could be.

"It grows late, Durell. Perhaps another day I will broach that subject again with your father. Why do you not dismount from your beast and draw your sword, instead? I am burning for the challenge of a fight!"