Judith looked up at him quite calmly. She had rich auburn hair only partially concealed by a French hood. Her eyes flashed gold. “Because your plans were completely inefficient. Have you ever made butter or cheese? Even milked a cow for that matter?”
The man towered over her, but the small woman didn’t flinch. “What the hell does it matter that I’ve never milked a goddamn cow?” He was so angry that his cheekbones seemed ready to cut through his skin. “The point is that you countermanded my orders. How does that make me look to my dairymen?”
Judith narrowed her eyes at him. “They’ll only be grateful they don’t have to work in that rabbit warren you designed.”
“Judith!” he growled. “If I thought it’d do any good, I’d beat you black and blue for your insolence.”
“It’s remarkable how angry you get when I’m right.”
The man ground his teeth together and took a step forward.
“Gavin!” Stephen shouted from beside Bronwyn as he grabbed an axe from an arrangement of weapons on the wall.
Gavin, war trained, his senses always alert, recognized the call. He turned quickly, then grabbed the war axe that Stephen tossed to him. For a moment Gavin looked in puzzlement from his brother, who wore such odd clothing, to the axe he held.
“To protect you from Judith,” Stephen laughed.
Before Gavin could react, Judith ran across the room and threw herself into Stephen’s arms. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you for days. We were so worried about you.”
Stephen buried his face in his sister-in-law’s neck. “You’re well now? The fever…?”
Gavin’s snort interrupted him. “She’s well enough to put her nose into all my affairs.”
“Affairs?” Stephen laughed. “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?”
“Hush, both of you,” Judith said as she disengaged herself from Stephen.
Gavin clasped his brother to him. “Where have you been? We heard you’d been killed and then that you’d been killed a second time. It was…” He couldn’t finish or tell Stephen of the agony they’d gone through while searching for him.
“I’m all right now, as you can see,” Stephen laughed and stepped back from his brother.
“I can see that you’ve grown even more handsome,” Judith said, frankly appraising her brother-in-law’s brown, muscular legs.
Gavin threw his arm around Judith in a possessive way. “Stop flirting with my brother, and I’ll tell you right now that I’m not going to wear one of those things.”
Judith laughed quietly and fitted herself against her husband.
Bronwyn stood in the shadow of a tall chair, an outsider watching the family. So this was the gentle Judith! She was shorter than Bronwyn, a tiny bit of a thing, as lovely as a jewel. Yet she stood up to her tall husband without fear. This was no woman who spent her days sewing!
Judith was the first to notice Bronwyn watching them. Her first impression was that Stephen had done what he once threatened: locked his wife in a tower and found a beautiful commoner to make him happy. But as she watched Bronwyn she realized that no commoner could carry herself as Bronwyn did. It wasn’t just the pride of being startlingly lovely, but some inner pride that made her stand that way. This was a woman who knew that she was worth something.
Judith pushed away from her husband and walked toward Bronwyn. “Lady Bronwyn?” she asked quietly, her hand extended.
Bronwyn’s eyes met Judith’s, and there passed between them an understanding. They recognized each other as equals.
“How did you know?” Stephen laughed. “James thought she was one of my…well, certainly not my wife.”
“James is a fool,” Judith said flatly. She stepped away from Bronwyn, studied the taller woman’s clothes. “That skirt would give you much freedom, wouldn’t it? And it wouldn’t be as heavy as this gown, would it?”
Bronwyn smiled warmly. “It’s wonderfully light, but then yours is so beautiful.”
“Come to my solar and let’s talk,” Judith said.
The men stared at their departing wives in open-mouthed astonishment.
“I’ve never seen Judith take to anyone like that,” Gavin said. “And how did she know she was your wife? From the way she was dressed, I would have agreed with James.”
“And Bronwyn!” Stephen said. “She hates the English clothes. You can’t imagine how many sermons I’ve heard about the confining way the English dress their women.”
