“Bronwyn, love,” Stephen said quietly.
Bronwyn reacted immediately. She jerked away from him and looked down at her men. “Douglas,” she whispered and slid down into the man’s waiting arms. One by one she greeted the men.
Stephen dismounted slowly and led his horse as he followed her through the gate. The spiked, iron portcullis was drawn up. The men did not speak to him or look at him, but Stephen was very aware of the way they surrounded him, solemnly, distrustfully. Bronwyn walked ahead of him, laughing with her men, asking questions and receiving answers.
Stephen felt very much the alien, the outsider. The men who walked beside him were wary of him, and he felt their hostility. These men were dressed differently from the men in the valley. Some wore short hose and shoes like Tam, others wore tall boots reaching to their knees. Yet all of them were bare-legged from knee to thigh.
Once through the gate the land was open, and they went past several small buildings to the great house. Stephen recognized the outbuildings as a dairy, a blacksmith’s, stables. There was even a small kitchen garden in one area. A place such as this could withstand a long siege.
The inside of the house was simple and unadorned. The stone walls were damp, unpainted, unpaneled. The small windows let in little light. It was cold inside the castle, colder even than the outside autumn chill, but there was no fire burning.
Bronwyn sat down in an uncushioned chair. “Now, Douglas, tell me of what has been happening.”
Stephen stood to one side, watching. No one asked after her comfort or suggested she should rest.
“The MacGregors have been raiding again. They took six head of cattle two nights ago.”
Bronwyn frowned. She’d deal with the MacGregors later. “What problems inside the clan?”
The man called Douglas tugged absently at a long lock of hair. “The land by the loch is in dispute again. Robert says the salmon are his while Desmond demands he be paid for them.”
“Have they drawn swords yet?” Bronwyn asked.
“No, but they are close. Shall I send some men in to settle this thing? A little blood shed in the right places will stop their quarrels.”
Stephen started to rise. He was used to making decisions of this sort. Tam’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“Can you think of nothing else but your sword arm, Douglas?” she asked angrily. “Did it never occur to you that the men have a reason for their quarrels? Robert has seven children to feed, and Desmond has an ailing wife and no children. Surely there must be a way to solve their problems.”
The men gave her blank looks.
She sighed. “Tell Robert to send his oldest and youngest children to Desmond to foster. Robert will not demand fish that are going to feed his own children, and Desmond’s wife will stop feeling sorry for herself for having no children of her own. Now, what else has happened?”
Stephen smiled at her wisdom. It had come from her love and knowledge of her clan. It was a wonder to see her in her home surroundings. With each passing moment she seemed to come more alive. Her chin no longer jutted forward in anger as she looked at the people around her. Her shoulders were still straight but not as if she meant to ward off blows and angry words.
He watched the faces of the men around her. They respected her, listened to her, and each decision she made was wise and in the best interests of her clan.
“Jamie taught her well,” Tam said quietly.
Stephen nodded. This was a completely different side of her, one he’d never imagined existed. He knew her to be angry, impulsive, filled with hatred, given to using a knife and making impossible demands. He remembered laughing at her when she fell into the stream.
Suddenly he felt a swift wave of jealousy. He’d never seen this woman who sat so calmly before these men and made decisions that affected their lives. They knew a side of her that he’d never even guessed at.
Bronwyn rose and walked toward the stairway at the far end of the hall. Stephen followed her. It suddenly occurred to him that the men knew nothing about the backs of her knees. He smiled to himself and felt somewhat reassured.
•••
“Look at him,” Bronwyn said in disgust. It was early morning, the late-autumn air nippy. She looked down at Stephen from the window of their third-story chamber. He was in the courtyard below, he and Chris wearing full armor. The Scotsmen around them stood and stared in sullen silence.
They had been married for two weeks, and during that time Stephen had made a strong effort to train her men in the English way of fighting. She’d stood by while he lectured the men on the importance of protecting themselves. He’d offered to purchase armor for the men who trained the longest and hardest. But the Scotsmen had said little and didn’t seem the least interested in the valuable prize of a suit of hot, heavy armor. They seemed to prefer their own wild costumes, which left half their bodies bare. The only concession toward war Stephen could get them to make was to wear a shirt of chain mail beneath their plaids.
Bronwyn turned away from the window, smiling to herself.
“Ye needn’t be so pleased with yerself,” Morag snapped. “Those men of yers could do with a little work. They sit about too much. Stephen makes them work.”
Bronwyn kept smiling. “He’s an obstinate man. Yesterday he dared to lecture my men that Scotland is a land of unrest, that he is trying to teach them to protect themselves. As if we didn’t know! It’s because of the English that—”
Morag put up her hand in defense. “Ye can try to drive him insane with yer constant lectures, but not me. What is it that upsets ye about him? Is it the way he makes ye cry out at night? Are ye ashamed of yer passion for the enemy?”
