She turned to where the black mare was tied; then stopped and looked back at him. “What power I have, I will use.” Ignoring his presence, she pulled the tartan up to her knees, grabbed the horse’s mane, and swung onto its back. She kicked it forward, already in a gallop by the time she reached Stephen.
He didn’t try to stop her but mounted his stallion bareback and followed her. He would send someone later for the saddles.
It seemed a long way back to the manor house, and the horse’s sharp backbone hitting him seemed just punishment for his behavior. She was a proud woman, and he had treated her badly. It was just that she did things to him. He looked at her, and he had difficulty thinking. She tried to talk to him, and all he could think about was getting her in bed. Later, he thought, after they were married and he’d bedded her a few times, he’d be able to look at her without his blood boiling.
•••
Bronwyn stood before the mirror in her room. She felt much better now that she’d had a hot bath and some time to think. Stephen Montgomery was not the man to become her husband. If he antagonized her people as he did her, he would be killed instantly, and then the English would come down upon their heads. She’d not marry a man who would surely cause war as well as strife within her clan.
She adjusted her hair again. She’d pulled the top of it back from her forehead, allowing the rest of it to hang freely down her back. A servant girl had brought her freshly cut autumn daisies, and Bronwyn had made a band of these across the back of her head.
Her gown was of emerald-green silk. The trailing sleeves were lined with gray squirrel fur, accenting the gray silk revealed by the part in the front of the bell-shaped skirt.
“I want to look my best,” Bronwyn said, catching a glimpse of Morag in the mirror.
Morag snorted. “I’d like to think ye were dressin’ to please Sir Stephen, but I don’t think so.”
“I willneverdress for him!”
“As far as I can tell, the man only wants ye undressed,” Morag mumbled.
Bronwyn didn’t bother to answer, nor would she allow herself to become upset. What she needed to do would affect the lives of hundreds of people, and she couldn’t enter upon it when she was angry.
Sir Thomas was waiting for her in the library. His smile of greeting was cordial but reserved. He heartily wished he could get rid of the beautiful woman so his men would stop snapping over her.
When Bronwyn was seated, a glass of wine refused, she began. She knew the real reason that she couldn’t accept Stephen: because he refused to accept the Scots’ ways. But she’d planned a more English reason to give Sir Thomas.
“But my dear,” he said in exasperation, “Stephen was chosen for you by King Henry.”
Bronwyn lowered her head in shy submission. “And I’m willing to accept a husband chosen for me by the English king, but I am chief of Clan MacArran, and Stephen Montgomery is merely a knight. I would have trouble with my men if I were to marry him.”
“But you think they’d accept Lord Roger?”
“Since his brother’s recent death, he is an earl, more nearly my rank as chief.”
Sir Thomas grimaced. He was getting too old for this sort of thing. Damn those Scots anyway for allowing a woman to think for herself. None of this would be happening if Jamie MacArran hadn’t named his daughter his successor.
He walked to the door and asked for Stephen and Roger to be brought to him.
When the young men were seated, one on each side of Lady Bronwyn, Sir Thomas told them of her plan. He watched the men’s faces carefully. He saw the light come into Roger’s eyes, and Sir Thomas turned away from him. Stephen sat quietly; the only sign he gave that he heard was a slight darkening of his eyes. Bronwyn never moved, the green of her dress giving her eyes a new depth, the daisies in her hair making her appear sweet and innocent.
Roger was the first to speak when Sir Thomas finished. “The Lady Bronwyn is right. Her title should be honored.”
Stephen’s eyes flashed. “Of course you’d think that, since you plan to gain a great deal by such a decision.” He turned to Sir Thomas. “The king spent a year choosing a bride for me. He wanted to reward my family for helping patrol the Lowlands borders.”
Bronwyn whirled on him. “Kill and rape, you mean!”
“I meant what I said: patrol. We did very little killing.” His eyes went to her breasts and his voice lowered. “And almost no raping.”
Bronwyn stood. “Sir Thomas, you’ve been to the Highlands.” She ignored his shudder of unpleasant memory. “My people would be dishonored if I were to bring back a lowly knight who was to be their laird. King Henry wants peace. This man,” she pointed at Stephen, “would only cause more trouble if he entered the Highlands.”
Stephen laughed as he stepped behind Bronwyn and put a strong arm around her waist. He held her tightly against him. “This isn’t a matter of diplomacy but a girl’s anger. I asked her to come early to my bed, before the wedding, and she thought I’d insulted her.”
Sir Thomas smiled, relieved. He started to speak.
Roger stepped forward. “I protest! Lady Bronwyn is not a woman to be put aside so easily. What she says makes sense.” He turned to Stephen. “Are you afraid to put the winning of her to a test?”
Stephen raised one eyebrow. “I don’t believe the Montgomery name has ‘coward’ attached to it. What did you have in mind?”
