Bronwyn moved so quickly that even Rab didn’t see her. She slapped Stephen across the face so hard his neck snapped backward. “Damn you to hell, Stephen Montgomery!” she gasped. “I am sick of being insulted. First that so-called friend of yours treats me as a piece of property to make a claim on, then when I refuse him and repay him for his vanity, he calls me a bitch. Now I must stand by and listen to you accuse me of being a whore. I am not your dimpled camp woman!”
Stephen paused in rubbing his bruised jaw. “What are you talking about? What woman?”
“She means nothing,” she said angrily. “What have I done to cause you to believe I am a whore? When have my actions shown me to be dishonest or that I don’t keep my vows?”
“You’re not making sense. What vows?”
She gave a sigh of exasperation. “Our marriage vows, you dunce! I agreed to them. I would not betray them.”
“You agreed to obey me too,” he said sullenly.
She turned away from him. “Come, Rab. Let’s go home.”
Stephen was on his feet instantly. He grabbed her arm. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you returning to Hugh?”
She pulled her foot back to kick him, but he whirled her about and pulled her to him, her back to his front.
“I nearly went insane,” he whispered. “How could you have done that to me? You knew I was watching.”
His words made her skin glow. It seemed like an eternity since he’d held her. She put her cheek against his arm. “You made me angry. The two of you were using me as if I had no rights of my own.”
He turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders. “We forgot that you’re the MacArran, didn’t we? Bronwyn, I—”
“Hold me,” she whispered, “just hold me.”
He nearly crushed her in his embrace. “I couldn’t stand for him to touch you. Every time he touched your hand…and when he held your face in his hands!”
“Stop it!” she commanded. “Stop it this minute.” She pulled away from him. “Nothing happened between Hugh Lasco and me. He thought he could win any woman in the world, and I wanted to show him he couldn’t.”
Stephen’s anger returned. “You certainly did a good job of it. From here you looked as if you’d been lovers for years.”
“Is that what you think? Do you believe I’d let a man paw me as he did if it weren’t for a reason?”
Stephen’s eyes darkened to almost black. “There was a reason! I know what you’re like in bed. Maybe you wanted to find out if other men could make you cry. Tell me, did he find your knees the first time?”
She glared at him. “Do you honestly believe I spent the afternoon in bed with him?”
“No,” he said, defeated. “There wasn’t enough time, and Hugh…”
“Let me finish for you,” she said flatly. “Hugh is your friend and you know he’s an honorable man and wouldn’t, in truth, do something so dishonorable. On the other hand, I am only a woman and therefore without honor. I am a piece of plant fluff and will go where the wind blows me, is that right?”
“You’re twisting my words!”
“I don’t believe I am. This morning, when I first saw you in here, you assumed that Hugh could have me if he wanted. All he had to do was ask or speak sweetly to me. If you knew anything about me, you would have sat in this cell and calmly waited for me. Then we could have laughed together over the jest I played on your Sir Hugh.”
“What jest?” Stephen asked sharply.
Bronwyn felt that all the breath had been knocked from her. She’d learned so much about Stephen in the last few months, had come to trust him, believe in him, even think she loved him. But he’d learned nothing about her! He thought she was an empty-headed, weak plaything.
Her voice was expressionless. “I gave him a drink with some herbs in it that Kirsty said causes severe stomach cramps. He will be ill for days.”
Stephen stared at her for a moment. How much he wanted to trust her! It seemed as if half his life had passed as he watched her leaning toward Hugh, talking to him. He’d torn at the bars on the windows when they’d danced together. Bronwyn’s ankles showed beneath her skirt; the sunlight flashed off her dress. How could she ask him to be reasonable when she’d nearly turned him into an animal? If he could have gotten free, he would have killed Hugh, torn his friend apart with his bare hands.
He wiped his hand across his eyes. How could she ask him to think rationally when he couldn’t think at all? He stared at her in wonder. What had she done to him? He hadn’t had a clear thought since he’d first seen her, tossed on the floor in a wet chemise. He’d fought for her, nearly died when she risked her life over the side of a cliff for one of her men, nearly killed her when her childishness had cost Chris his life. How could she talk to him of reason? Being near her took away all semblance of sanity.
“We should go,” she said coldly, then turned away.
He watched her leave the room, Rab following her. He wanted to go to her, tell her he believed in her, knew she was honorable, but he couldn’t. Hugh had proved once that he could take a woman from Stephen. Sweet Meg had loved Stephen, yet Hugh had been able to take her. Bronwyn made no secret of the fact that she considered Stephen her enemy. To her, one Englishman was as good as another. Perhaps Hugh had made promises concerning her clan. If her clan was involved…
He looked up as Rab gave a sharp bark at him. He came back to the present and ran down the stairs to Hugh’s room.
Hugh lay on his bed, his knees drawn into his chest, four servants and three guards surrounding him. “Get out of here,” he gasped through a well of pain. “I never want to see you or that bitch you married again.”
Stephen backed away, but not before he began to smile. She’d been telling the truth!
“Get out, I say!” Hugh commanded. He grabbed at his stomach and fell back on the bed.
“Bested by a woman,” Stephen laughed as he left the room. He hurried down the stairs to the Great Hall. Bronwyn waited for him, wearing her plaid skirt and white blouse. She was once more his Highlands lassie. He went to her, touched her arm, smiled at her.
She turned away coldly.
“Bronwyn,” he began.
“If you’re through here, I think we should ride. You are, of course, the master, and we will stay if that is your command.”
He stared for a moment at the icy blueness of her eyes. “No, I don’t want to stay,” he said after a while. He turned away from her and walked toward the front door of the house.
Bronwyn followed him slowly. The whole episode had started as a game, a childish game of one-upmanship, but through it she’d learned something startling about her husband. For some reason she thought she was the one who had to learn to trust him. She’d watched him over the last few months, dispassionately observed the changes in him. She’d seen him go from being an arrogant Englishman to becoming almost a Scot. She’d seen a lot of the coldness toward his men leave him, and the men, who were Englishmen, changed almost as much as their master. One by one they began wearing a plaid and stopped spending hours a day polishing their armor. Then, just a few days ago, Stephen had killed three Englishmen in an effort to save Bronwyn and Kirsty’s baby. To Bronwyn that act had been the final gesture she needed to make her believe in him.
But what had Stephen learned about her? He disapproved of everything she did. He cursed her if she led her men. He was angry if she risked her life to save someone else. What could she do to please him? Should she try to become someone else? Would he like her better if she were like…like his beautiful sister-in-law? She had a clear idea of what Judith was like: gentle, never raising her voice, always smiling sweetly at her husband, never arguing with him, always agreeable.
“That’s what men really want!” she said under her breath. Stephen expected her to sit still and be quiet, to never contradict his words. Just like the Englishwomen! Damn him! she cursed. She was no milk-and-water Englishwoman! She was the MacArran, and the sooner Stephen Montgomery learned tha
t the better for all of them.
She held her chin high as she walked toward the stables.
By a silent, mutual agreement they did not stop for the night. They rode at a steady pace, neither speaking, each with his own thoughts of the last two days. Stephen could think of little but the sight of Hugh’s hands on Bronwyn. He knew she’d repaid Hugh, but he couldn’t help wishing she’d not been so subtle and had taken a knife to the man.
As for Bronwyn, she had almost forgotten Hugh. What mattered to her was that Stephen hadn’t trusted her, had accused her of being a liar.
In the early dawn the walls of the old Montgomery castle rose before them. She had not expected this dark, massive fortress but a house more on the order of Hugh Lasco’s. She glanced at Stephen and saw his face was alight, much as she must look each time she saw Larenston.
“We’ll enter by the river gate,” he said as he spurred his horse forward.
The front of the tall walls were set with two massive gate towers protecting the closed gates. She followed Stephen to low walls that made a roofless tunnel leading to the smaller gate at the far side of the castle walls.
Stephen slowed and cautiously entered the mouth of the narrow, walled alley. Immediately an arrow flew though the air to land at the feet of Stephen’s horse.
“Who goes there?” demanded a faceless voice from the top of the wall above them.
“Stephen Montgomery!” he declared loudly.
Bronwyn smiled because Stephen’s voice held the burr of the Highlands.
“You’re not Lord Stephen, for I know him well! Now turn those nags about and leave. No one enters these walls but friends. Return in an hour to the front gate and beg entrance from the gatekeeper.”
“Matthew Greene!” Stephen shouted up. “Have you forgotten your own master?”
The man leaned over the wall and stared downward. “It is you!” he said after a moment. “Open the gate!” he shouted, his voice full of joy. “Lord Stephen is safe! Welcome home, my lord.”
Stephen waved his hand at the man and proceeded. All along the way men called in greeting from the top of the wall. At the end of the passageway a gate opened, and they rode inside to a private courtyard, the house looming over them.
“My lord, it’s good to see you,” said an old man as he took Stephen’s reins. “I wouldn’t have known you if the men hadn’t told me it was you.”
“It’s good to be home, James. Are my brothers here?”
“Lord Gavin returned no more than an hour ago.”
“Returned?”
“Aye, my lord, all your brothers have been searching for you. We heard you’d been killed by that heathen wife of yours.”
“Watch yourself, James!” Stephen commanded. He absently stepped backward and took Bronwyn’s hand. “This is my wife, the lady Bronwyn.”
“Oh, my lady,” the old man gasped. “Forgive me. I thought you were one of Lord Stephen’s…I mean, he’s often brought home…”
“You’ve said quite enough. Come, Bronwyn,” Stephen said.
He gave her no chance to prepare herself. She was to be presented to his family looking like a serving wench. Even his servant thought so. She knew how the English set such store by a person’s clothes, and she thought wistfully of the beautiful gowns she’d worn at Sir Thomas Crichton’s. The best she could do was hold her head high and endure the English snubs. Except for the perfect Judith. No doubt she’d be kind and considerate, a soft-spoken pillow.
“You look scared to death,” Stephen snapped, staring at her. “I assure you that Gavin rarely beats women, and Judith—”
She put up her hand. “Spare me. I’ve heard enough of this Judith.” She straightened her back. “And the Scots will give up their plaids before you’ll see the MacArran afraid of mere Englishmen.”
He smiled at her, then pushed open the door to a room brilliant with early sunlight. Bronwyn only glanced at the beautifully paneled room before her attention was drawn to the two people standing in the middle of it.
“Goddamn you, Judith!” a tall man shouted. He had dark hair, gray eyes, and sharp cheekbones. An extraordinarily handsome man, and now his face was ablaze with anger. “I left exact orders as to how I wanted the dairy rebuilt. I even left drawings. As if I didn’t have enough to worry about with Stephen and his new wife missing, I return to find the foundations laid and they have no resemblance to my plans.”
Judith looked up at him quite calmly. She had rich auburn hair only partially concealed by a French hood. Her eyes flashed gold. “Because your plans were completely inefficient. Have you ever made butter or cheese? Even milked a cow for that matter?”
The man towered over her, but the small woman didn’t flinch. “What the hell does it matter that I’ve never milked a goddamn cow?” He was so angry that his cheekbones seemed ready to cut through his skin. “The point is that you countermanded my orders. How does that make me look to my dairymen?”
Judith narrowed her eyes at him. “They’ll only be grateful they don’t have to work in that rabbit warren you designed.”
“Judith!” he growled. “If I thought it’d do any good, I’d beat you black and blue for your insolence.”
“It’s remarkable how angry you get when I’m right.”
The man ground his teeth together and took a step forward.
“Gavin!” Stephen shouted from beside Bronwyn as he grabbed an axe from an arrangement of weapons on the wall.
Gavin, war trained, his senses always alert, recognized the call. He turned quickly, then grabbed the war axe that Stephen tossed to him. For a moment Gavin looked in puzzlement from his brother, who wore such odd clothing, to the axe he held.
“To protect you from Judith,” Stephen laughed.
Before Gavin could react, Judith ran across the room and threw herself into Stephen’s arms. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you for days. We were so worried about you.”
Stephen buried his face in his sister-in-law’s neck. “You’re well now? The fever…?”
Gavin’s snort interrupted him. “She’s well enough to put her nose into all my affairs.”
“Affairs?” Stephen laughed. “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?”
“Hush, both of you,” Judith said as she disengaged herself from Stephen.
Gavin clasped his brother to him. “Where have you been? We heard you’d been killed and then that you’d been killed a second time. It was…” He couldn’t finish or tell Stephen of the agony they’d gone through while searching for him.
“I’m all right now, as you can see,” Stephen laughed and stepped back from his brother.
“I can see that you’ve grown even more handsome,” Judith said, frankly appraising her brother-in-law’s brown, muscular legs.
Gavin threw his arm around Judith in a possessive way. “Stop flirting with my brother, and I’ll tell you right now that I’m not going to wear one of those things.”
Judith laughed quietly and fitted herself against her husband.
Bronwyn stood in the shadow of a tall chair, an outsider watching the family. So this was the gentle Judith! She was shorter than Bronwyn, a tiny bit of a thing, as lovely as a jewel. Yet she stood up to her tall husband without fear. This was no woman who spent her days sewing!
Judith was the first to notice Bronwyn watching them. Her first impression was that Stephen had done what he once threatened: locked his wife in a tower and found a beautiful commoner to make him happy. But as she watched Bronwyn she realized that no commoner could carry herself as Bronwyn did. It wasn’t just the pride of being startlingly lovely, but some inner pride that made her stand that way. This was a woman who knew that she was worth something.
Judith pushed away from her husband and walked toward Bronwyn. “Lady Bronwyn?” she asked quietly, her hand extended.
Bronwyn’s eyes met Judith’s, and there passed between them an understanding. They recognized each other as equals.
“How did you know?” Stephen laughe
d. “James thought she was one of my…well, certainly not my wife.”
“James is a fool,” Judith said flatly. She stepped away from Bronwyn, studied the taller woman’s clothes. “That skirt would give you much freedom, wouldn’t it? And it wouldn’t be as heavy as this gown, would it?”
Bronwyn smiled warmly. “It’s wonderfully light, but then yours is so beautiful.”
“Come to my solar and let’s talk,” Judith said.
The men stared at their departing wives in open-mouthed astonishment.
“I’ve never seen Judith take to anyone like that,” Gavin said. “And how did she know she was your wife? From the way she was dressed, I would have agreed with James.”
“And Bronwyn!” Stephen said. “She hates the English clothes. You can’t imagine how many sermons I’ve heard about the confining way the English dress their women.”
Gavin began to smile. “Black hair and blue eyes! Did I really see her or was it my imagination? I thought you said she was ugly and fat. She couldn’t really be the laird of a clan, could she?”
Stephen chuckled. “Let’s sit down, and do you think I could have something to eat?” His eyes twinkled. “Or do the servants only obey Judith now?”
“If I weren’t so glad you were safe, I’d repay you for that remark,” Gavin said as he left the room to order food and send men to find Raine and Miles.
“How is Judith, really?” Stephen asked when the food was brought. “I know you said in your letters that she was fully recovered from the miscarriage, but…”
Gavin picked up a hard-boiled egg from Stephen’s plate. “You saw her,” he said heavily. “I have to fight for every inch of control I have over my own people.”
Stephen looked up sharply. “And you love it,” he said slowly.
Gavin grinned. “She certainly makes life interesting. Every time I see one of those prim, pink-and-white wives of other men, I’m thankful I have Judith. I think I’d go crazy if I couldn’t have a good, rousing fight once a week. Enough about me! What’s your Bronwyn like? Is she always so sweet and docile as a few minutes ago?”
Highland Velvet Page 23