Highland Velvet Read online

  “I don’t think I can get enough of you,” Stephen whispered as he nibbled on her earlobe.

  “It’s not for lack of trying,” she said impudently, but she closed her eyes and moved her head so he had access to her neck. “Stephen!” she said suddenly and sat upright because several people were staring at them from the roadside.

  “Mornin’,” Stephen said, then returned to Bronwyn’s neck.

  She pulled away from him. “Have you no modesty? We should at least—” She stopped as she saw the light in his eyes. “There’re a few trees over there,” she whispered.

  Rab kept guard as Stephen and Bronwyn lay side by side in the little copse of trees. It seemed to Bronwyn that the more often they made love, the more Stephen’s body fascinated her. The dappled light through the trees played on the dark skin over his muscles. She was fascinated by the strength and power of him, his ability to move her body with one hand. She teased him, rolled away from him, yet he had only to put one hand to her waist and pull her back to him.

  They made love in every position imaginable. They had been away from her clan long enough to remove her sense of heavy responsibility, and she felt free and happy. She sought Stephen as eagerly as he sought her. She experimented, her body taking over her mind. She lay on her back, her legs thrown over Stephen as he lay on his side. She clutched at him, pulled him closer, groaned as his hands caressed her legs. Her whole body shuddered when they exploded together.

  They lay still for a long while, wrapped about each other, neither of them noticing the cold winter air or the damp, nearly frozen ground.

  “What’s your family like?” Bronwyn asked huskily.

  Stephen smiled and looked at her body, perpendicular to his. He was pleased that she looked weak and exhausted, exactly how he felt. He gave a little shiver as a gust of wind sent little needles through his body. “Get dressed and we’ll make some oatcakes.”

  After they were dressed, Stephen went to his horse, took a broad metal plate from under the saddle flap, and got a bag of oatmeal. The disk had been their only purchase. Bronwyn had a fire going by the time he returned. They mixed the meal with water while the plate heated, then spread the paste thinly over the hot griddle. Stephen turned the cake with his fingers.

  “You haven’t answered me,” Bronwyn said as she ate the first oatcake.

  Stephen knew what she meant, but he didn’t want her to see how pleased he was that she asked him about his family. He had a sudden feeling that he didn’t ever want to reach the Montgomery estates, that he always wanted her to himself. The firelight flickered on her hair and flashed off the brooch at her shoulder. He didn’t want to share her with anyone.

  “Stephen? You’re looking at me strangely.”

  He smiled and looked back at the oatcake on the griddle. “Just thinking. Let’s see. You wanted to know about my family.” He rolled a hotcake and began to eat it. “Gavin is the oldest, then me, then Raine and Miles.”

  “What are they like? Are they like you?”

  “It’s difficult to judge one’s self. Gavin is tall and extremely stubborn. He’s dedicated to the Montgomery lands and spends most of his time there.”

  “And he’s the only one who’s married.”

  “Are you forgetting me?” he laughed. “Gavin and Judith were married nearly a year ago.”

  “What’s she like?”

  “Beautiful! Kind, sweet, forgiving.” He chuckled. “She’d have to be to live with Gavin. He doesn’t know much about women, and as a result he gets in a lot of trouble with them.”

  “I’m glad he’s the only one of you four who knows little about women.”

  Stephen missed the sarcasm in her words. He was beginning to remember his family with longing. “Then there’s Raine. He’s the one who’s like Tam, heavy and thick, like our father. Raine is the…I don’t know how to explain him. He is good, deep-down good inside. He can’t stand any injustice. He’ll put his own life in danger before he’d ever harm a serf or let anyone else harm one.”

  “And Miles?”

  “Miles,” Stephen said and smiled. “Miles is quiet and no one knows much about him. He keeps to himself, but every once in a while he explodes with the most horrible temper imaginable. Once when we were children he got angry at one of my father’s squires, and it took all three of us to hold him back.”

  “What was the squire doing?” she asked curiously, accepting another oatcake.

  Stephen’s eyes danced with memory. “The boy was teasing a little girl. Miles loves women.”

  “All women?”

  “All!” Stephen said. “And they follow him around as if he had the key to all happiness. I never met a female who didn’t like Miles.”

  “He sounds quite interesting,” she said, licking her fingers.

  “If you ever!” he began, then stopped because Bronwyn was looking at him with such interest. He turned his attention to the oatcakes. “And then there’s Mary.”

  “Mary?”

  “Our sister.”

  Something about the way he said the words made her stare at him. “I’ve never heard you mention a sister. What’s she like? Will she be there at Christmas?”

  “Mary is like the Madonna,” he said reverently. “Even as children we knew she was different. She’s the oldest child, and she always knew how to keep her younger brothers out of trouble. Sometimes Gavin and Raine were at each other’s throats. Gavin was always aware that the land would be his someday, and he was always angry when Raine forgave a serf for causing any destruction to the land, even when it was clearly caused by an accident. Mary would come between them and in her soft voice soothe them.”

  “How?” Bronwyn asked, thinking of her own responsibilities with her clan.

  “I never understood how she did it. That time when Miles tried to kill the squire, it was Mary who was able to calm him.”

  “And what of her now? Is her husband kind to her?”

  “She has no husband. She asked to be allowed never to marry, and since we’d never met a man who we thought would ever be kind enough to her, we granted her wish. She lives in a convent not far from the Montgomery estates.”

  “It was kind of you to grant her wish. I’ve heard that Englishwomen usually have little choice about their futures.”

  Stephen didn’t take offense at her words. “I think you’re right. Perhaps they should learn from the Scots.”

  “They?” she said smoothly.

  He laughed at her meaning. “Do you know, I am almost beginning to feel that I am a Scot.” He stood up, stuck his bare leg out. “Do you think my own brothers will recognize me?”

  “Probably,” she said. “But I doubt if anyone else would.” There was pride in her voice.

  “I’d like to see if you were right.”

  “Are you planning something?” she asked suspiciously, because at that moment he looked like a mischievous little boy. “Stephen, we already have the MacGregors searching for us, my brother and his men, and no doubt some Englishmen since you did kill three of them. I would like to get to your brother’s in one piece.”

  “We will,” Stephen said, a faraway look in his eyes. “We might just pay a visit on the way though.”

  Bronwyn sighed, then stood and dusted her skirt. As she walked back to her horse, her mind was full of thoughts about little boys who never grew up.

  Chapter Twelve

  AS THEY ENTERED ENGLAND, STEPHEN COULD FEEL A difference in the air. Even on the border of Scotland, the people were not used to seeing the Highlanders. Some people stared openly at their dress; some shouted angry words because their land and property had been attacked by the Scots. Bronwyn rode with her back rigid and her head held high. She refused to answer anything the Englishmen said. Only once did she show any emotion. Stephen stopped at a farmer’s well to replenish their water jugs, and the farmer ran after them with a haying fork. Stephen, the blood flushing his body, started after the little man who was cursing the Scots so vividly. Bronwyn grabbed her hus