She tried to cover her disappointment and held out her hand. “Lord Roger, how nice to see you again.”
Roger dropped to one knee and took her hand, held it to his lips. His blond hair was darker than she remembered, the scar by his eye even more prominent. He brought back memories of the time at Sir Thomas Crichton’s house. She’d been so lonely then, and Roger had been so kind, so understanding. He’d even been willing to risk his life to do what she wanted.
“You are more beautiful than I remembered,” he said quietly.
“Come now, Lord Roger, I don’t remember you as a flatterer.”
He stood, his eyes on hers. “And what do you remember about me?”
“Only that you were willing to help me at a time when I needed help. Douglas,” she called, “make Lord Roger and his men welcome.”
Roger watched as the man obeyed her instantly. He looked around at the bare, unadorned walls of Larenston. The road into the peninsula had been lined with very poor little houses. Was this all the wealth there was to the MacArrans?
“Lord Roger, come to my solar and talk with me. What brings you to Scotland? Oh, but I forgot that you have relatives here, don’t you?”
Roger lifted one eyebrow. “Yes, I do.” He followed her upstairs to another bare room, where a small fire blazed cheerfully in the fireplace.
“Won’t you sit down?” Bronwyn gave a curt look at Morag, then asked the disapproving little woman to bring them wine and refreshments.
When they were seated and alone, Roger leaned toward her. “I will be honest with you. I came to see if you needed any assistance. When I saw Stephen at King Henry’s court and—”
“You saw Stephen at court!” she gasped.
He watched her face. “I thought perhaps you didn’t know. There were too many women near him and—”
Bronwyn rose and went toward the fire. “I’d prefer not to hear the rest of what you have to say,” she said coldly. She was beginning to remember all about Roger Chatworth. He’d stabbed at Stephen’s back once before.
“Lady Bronwyn,” he said desperately. “I meant no harm. I thought you knew.”
She whirled on him. “I’ve matured a great deal since I last saw you. Once I was easy prey for your handsome ways, and I was childishly angry because my husband was late for our wedding. But now I am older and much, much wiser. As you have guessed, I’m sure, my husband and I have quarreled. Whether we will settle our differences or not I don’t know, but the quarrel will remain between us.”
Roger’s dark eyes narrowed. He had a way of tilting his head back so he seemed to be looking down his narrow, aquiline nose. “Do you think I’ve come here to carry gossip like some fisherman’s wife?”
“It would sound so. You’ve already mentioned the women around Stephen.”
Roger began to smile slowly. “Perhaps I did. Forgive me. I was only surprised to see him away from your side.”
“So you hurried to tell me of his…escapades?”
He stared at her, his handsome face warm and alive. “Come and sit down, please. You weren’t always so hostile to me. Once you even asked that we be married.”
She took the chair beside him. “That was a long time ago. At least it was long enough for lives and feelings to change drastically.” She watched the fire and was silent.
“Aren’t you curious as to the real purpose of my journey here?” When she didn’t answer, he continued. “I have a message from a woman named Kirsty.”
Bronwyn’s head shot up sharply, but before she could speak, Morag came in with a tray of food. It seemed hours before she left. The old woman insisted on adding wood to the fire and asking Roger questions.
Bronwyn wanted to ask questions too. How did he know Kirsty? What message could he have? Did it have something to do with the message the MacGregor had sent Tam saying he wanted to meet Bronwyn?
“If that’s all, Morag!” Bronwyn said impatiently, then ignored the old woman’s look as she left the room. “Now! What have you heard from Kirsty?”
Roger leaned back in his chair. This Bronwyn wasn’t what he’d expected. Perhaps it was being in her own country or maybe it was Montgomery’s influence, but she wasn’t the easily manipulated young woman he’d first met. He’d heard part of the story of Bronwyn and Stephen in the MacGregor’s land by chance. A man, poor and hungry, had asked to join his garrison. One night Roger’d overheard the man telling of his adventures in Scotland with the ravishing MacArran laird. Roger’d taken the man upstairs with him and gotten the whole story. Of course, it was only a part of the story, and Roger had spent considerable money finding out the rest of it.
When all the pieces were together, he knew he could somehow use it. He laughed at Stephen for foolishly parading himself before these crude Scots in a manner and dress as crude as their own. He sipped his wine and thought again with hatred of the time Stephen had dishonored him on a battlefield. Too many people had heard of that fight, and often he heard whispers of “the back attacker.” He’d repay Stephen for that new nickname he now had.
His plan had been to seduce Stephen’s wife, take what he’d fought for. But Bronwyn had fouled his plans. She was obviously not a woman who followed a man easily. Perhaps if he had time…. But no, he had no idea how long Stephen would be away.
Then a new plan began to come to him. Oh, yes, he thought, he’d repay Montgomery in full.
