“Stephen…” she pleaded.
“No!” He glared at her. “For once you’re going to obey me, do you understand?”
She started to argue, but she knew it was no use. Truthfully, she was glad he was going with her. She lifted her face for his kiss.
He just touched his lips to hers then pulled away.
She looked up in surprise.
He nodded toward the window. “Unless I’m wrong, it’s about an hour before sunrise now. I think we should leave.”
“We couldn’t spare even a few minutes?” she asked wistfully.
“You’re a naughty child,” he teased. “Now let’s get dressed and go conquer the MacGregor as you’ve conquered me.”
She lay back in the hay and watched him as he dressed quickly. Too soon was his strong body covered. And to think she once thought of him as her enemy! “You, my lord, are my conqueror,” she sighed, then reluctantly began to dress.
•••
They sobered as they saddled their horses and prepared for the short journey to the meeting place. Stephen considered locking Bronwyn in the barn and going alone, but she, seeming to sense his thoughts, refused to tell him where she was to meet the MacGregor.
The meeting place was as Stephen had thought—secluded, enclosed by rock, lonely-feeling with its heavy shroud of fog.
As soon as he dismounted, Stephen felt the point of a sword at the base of his neck. “And who are you?” the MacGregor growled.
“I came to protect her,” Stephen answered. “Laird though she is, she doesn’t meet men alone.”
The MacGregor looked at Bronwyn, tall, slim, beautiful. She held the enormous dog in check as he threatened to attack the big man. The MacGregor laughed and sheathed his sword. “I don’t blame you, boy. Though she might need protection for some reason other than the one you mean.”
Stephen turned to meet the man eye to eye. “I’ll protect her in all ways,” he said with meaning.
The MacGregor laughed again. “Come over here and sit down. I’ve given this idea of peace some thought, and the only way I can see is to unite the clans in some way.” He looked at Bronwyn as she sat down on a rock. “I’m not married any longer. Had I seen the MacArran earlier I would have offered for her.”
Stephen stood behind his wife and put his hand possessively on her shoulder. “She’s taken and I’ll fight—”
“Stop it, both of you!” Bronwyn demanded, shrugging Stephen’s hand away. “You’re like two rutting stags clashing. Stephen, if you do not behave you’ll have to return to Harben’s.”
The MacGregor laughed.
“And you, Lachlan! I’ll have you know there’s more to the MacArran than a face! If you can’t deal with me on an intelligent level, perhaps you can send one of your chieftains.”
It was Stephen’s turn to laugh.
Lachlan MacGregor raised one eyebrow. “Perhaps I don’t envy you after all, boy.”
“She has compensations,” Stephen added smugly.
Bronwyn wasn’t listening to him. “Davey,” she whispered.
Stephen stared at her as he began to understand what she meant. “He tried to kill us,” he said quietly, but Bronwyn’s look stopped him. He understood what she felt: blood was thicker than water.
He turned to the MacGregor. “She has an older brother, about twenty. The boy is going crazy with jealousy. Rather than stay in a clan where his younger sister is laird, he’s hiding in the hills somewhere. Recently he made an attempt on our lives.”
The MacGregor frowned, nodded his head. “I can understand the boy. I would have done the same thing.”
“Understand him!” Bronwyn said. “I’m his laird. He should have accepted what our father said. I would have accepted him.”
“Of course,” Lachlan waved his hand. “But you’re a woman.” He ignored her sputters.
