She looked around her for something to use as balance, but there was nothing unless she crawled to a rock some feet away. She would never crawl before him! “Come, Rab!” she commanded, and the large dog quickly splashed into the water after his mistress.
Bronwyn wiped more water from her face, studiously avoiding Stephen’s grinning face. Placing her hands on the dog’s back, she started to lift herself up. The wool dress was extremely heavy to begin with, but thoroughly soaked with water, it was impossible. This in addition to the slippery stones under her feet were too much.
She was in a half-crouch, a position that had taken her minutes to achieve, when her feet flew out from under her. Rab jumped away as Bronwyn fell again, this time flat on her back, her face going under the water. She came up gasping.
The first sound she heard was Stephen’s laughter, then with a sense of betrayal she heard Rab’s bark—a bark that sounded suspiciously like a canine laugh.
“Damn both of you!” she hissed and grabbed the cold, clinging, offending skirt.
Stephen shook his head at her, then entered the water. Before she could speak he’d bent and picked her up in his arms. She would have given a lot then to be able to pull him into the water with her, but his footing was too sure. When he bent to lift her, he kept his legs straight, using only his back and avoiding most of the contact with the water.
“I would like you to release me,” she said as primly as possible.
Stephen gave a one-shoulder shrug, then dropped his arms. In a reflex motion, to keep from falling back into the icy water, she gasped and threw her arms about his neck.
“Much better!” he laughed and hugged her to him so tightly she couldn’t remove her arms.
He waded ashore with her and then stopped, still holding her. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen blue eyes with black hair before,” he whispered, his eyes devouring her face. “I’m more than sorry I missed our wedding.”
She knew exactly why he was sorry, and his reasons didn’t help her mood any. “I am cold. Please release me,” she said flatly.
“I could warm you,” he said as he drew her earlobe between his teeth.
Bronwyn felt a chill run along her arm, a chill that had nothing to do with the wet dress she wore. The sensation frightened her; she didn’t want it. “Please let me go,” she said softly.
Stephen’s head came up quickly, and he looked at her with concern. “You are cold. Take that dress off and you can wear my jacket. Should I build a fire?”
“I’d prefer that you released me and we rode back to the house.”
Reluctantly, Stephen stood her in front of him. “You’re shivering,” he said as he moved his hands along her arms. “You’ll be ill if you don’t get out of that dress.”
She backed away from him. The sodden gown slapped about her legs, the sleeves dragged her arms down.
Stephen gave her a look of disgust. “That damned thing is so heavy you can scarcely walk. Why in the world you women wear such fashions is beyond me. It’s so heavy now I doubt if your horse could carry you.”
Bronwyn straightened her shoulders even though the dress threatened to drag them down again. “Women! It’s you Englishmen who impose these fashions on your women. It is an attempt to keep them immobile since you aren’t men enough to deal with free women. I had this dress made so I wouldn’t shame my clan. The English too often judge a person by her clothes.”
She held the fabric out. “Do you know how much this cost me? I could have purchased a hundred head of cattle for what this one garment cost me. Yet you have ruined it.”
“I? It was your stubbornness that ruined it. Just as now. You stand there shivering because you’d rather freeze than do what I say.”
She gave him a mocking smile. “At least you are not completely stupid. You do understand some things.”
Stephen chuckled. “I understand much more than you imagine.” He removed his jacket and held it out to her. “If you’re so afraid of me, go into the woods and change.”
“Afraid!” Bronwyn snorted and ignored the offered clothing. She walked slowly, kicking the skirt as she moved, to the saddle on the ground. She withdrew a Highland tartan from the attached bag. She didn’t bother looking back at Stephen as she went into the woods, Rab following her.
She had a great deal of difficulty with the catches that ran down the back of the dress. By the time she got to the last one, her skin was nearly blue. She grabbed the dress and pulled it from her shoulders, the last hooks snapping apart. She let the dress fall in a heap at her feet.
The thin linen of her undertunic and the once-stiff petticoat were dyed pink from the burgundy wool. She longed to remove her underwear but didn’t dare with someone like Stephen Montgomery near. At the thought, she looked around her to make sure he wasn’t spying on her, then lifted the petticoat and removed her silk stockings. When she’d removed as much clothing as she dared, she wrapped herself in her plaid and walked back to the stream.
Stephen was nowhere in sight.
“Looking for me?” he asked from behind her.
When she turned, he was grinning at her, her wet dress thrown over his arm. It was obvious he’d hidden and watched her undress.
Her eyes were cold as she stared at him. “You think you’ve won, don’t you? You’re so confident that soon I will be at your feet that you treat me like a toy of yours. I’m not a toy, and most especially, I am not yours. For all your English vanity, I am a Scotswoman and I have some power.”
