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  Bronwyn moved so quickly that even Rab didn’t see her. She slapped Stephen across the face so hard his neck snapped backward. “Damn you to hell, Stephen Montgomery!” she gasped. “I am sick of being insulted. First that so-called friend of yours treats me as a piece of property to make a claim on, then when I refuse him and repay him for his vanity, he calls me a bitch. Now I must stand by and listen to you accuse me of being a whore. I am not your dimpled camp woman!”

  Stephen paused in rubbing his bruised jaw. “What are you talking about? What woman?”

  “She means nothing,” she said angrily. “What have I done to cause you to believe I am a whore? When have my actions shown me to be dishonest or that I don’t keep my vows?”

  “You’re not making sense. What vows?”

  She gave a sigh of exasperation. “Our marriage vows, you dunce! I agreed to them. I would not betray them.”

  “You agreed to obey me too,” he said sullenly.

  She turned away from him. “Come, Rab. Let’s go home.”

  Stephen was on his feet instantly. He grabbed her arm. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you returning to Hugh?”

  She pulled her foot back to kick him, but he whirled her about and pulled her to him, her back to his front.

  “I nearly went insane,” he whispered. “How could you have done that to me? You knew I was watching.”

  His words made her skin glow. It seemed like an eternity since he’d held her. She put her cheek against his arm. “You made me angry. The two of you were using me as if I had no rights of my own.”

  He turned her to face him, his hands on her shoulders. “We forgot that you’re the MacArran, didn’t we? Bronwyn, I—”

  “Hold me,” she whispered, “just hold me.”

  He nearly crushed her in his embrace. “I couldn’t stand for him to touch you. Every time he touched your hand…and when he held your face in his hands!”

  “Stop it!” she commanded. “Stop it this minute.” She pulled away from him. “Nothing happened between Hugh Lasco and me. He thought he could win any woman in the world, and I wanted to show him he couldn’t.”

  Stephen’s anger returned. “You certainly did a good job of it. From here you looked as if you’d been lovers for years.”

  “Is that what you think? Do you believe I’d let a man paw me as he did if it weren’t for a reason?”

  Stephen’s eyes darkened to almost black. “There was a reason! I know what you’re like in bed. Maybe you wanted to find out if other men could make you cry. Tell me, did he find your knees the first time?”

  She glared at him. “Do you honestly believe I spent the afternoon in bed with him?”

  “No,” he said, defeated. “There wasn’t enough time, and Hugh…”

  “Let me finish for you,” she said flatly. “Hugh is your friend and you know he’s an honorable man and wouldn’t, in truth, do something so dishonorable. On the other hand, I am only a woman and therefore without honor. I am a piece of plant fluff and will go where the wind blows me, is that right?”

  “You’re twisting my words!”

  “I don’t believe I am. This morning, when I first saw you in here, you assumed that Hugh could have me if he wanted. All he had to do was ask or speak sweetly to me. If you knew anything about me, you would have sat in this cell and calmly waited for me. Then we could have laughed together over the jest I played on your Sir Hugh.”

  “What jest?” Stephen asked sharply.

  Bronwyn felt that all the breath had been knocked from her. She’d learned so much about Stephen in the last few months, had come to trust him, believe in him, even think she loved him. But he’d learned nothing about her! He thought she was an empty-headed, weak plaything.

  Her voice was expressionless. “I gave him a drink with some herbs in it that Kirsty said causes severe stomach cramps. He will be ill for days.”

  Stephen stared at her for a moment. How much he wanted to trust her! It seemed as if half his life had passed as he watched her leaning toward Hugh, talking to him. He’d torn at the bars on the windows when they’d danced together. Bronwyn’s ankles showed beneath her skirt; the sunlight flashed off her dress. How could she ask him to be reasonable when she’d nearly turned him into an animal? If he could have gotten free, he would have killed Hugh, torn his friend apart with his bare hands.

  He wiped his hand across his eyes. How could she ask him to think rationally when he couldn’t think at all? He stared at her in wonder. What had she done to him? He hadn’t had a clear thought since he’d first seen her, tossed on the floor in a wet chemise. He’d fought for her, nearly died when she risked her life over the side of a cliff for one of her men, nearly killed her when her childishness had cost Chris his life. How could she talk to him of reason? Being near her took away all semblance of sanity.

  “We should go,” she said coldly, then turned away.

  He watched her leave the room, Rab following her. He wanted to go to her, tell her he believed in her, knew she was honorable, but he couldn’t. Hugh had proved once that he could take a woman from Stephen. Sweet Meg had loved Stephen, yet Hugh had been able to take her. Bronwyn made no secret of the fact that she considered Stephen her enemy. To her, one Englishman was as good as another. Perhaps Hugh had made promises concerning her clan. If her clan was involved…

  He looked up as Rab gave a sharp bark at him. He came back to the present and ran down the stairs to Hugh’s room.

  Hugh lay on his bed, his knees drawn into his chest, four servants and three guards surrounding him. “Get out of here,” he gasped through a well of pain. “I never want to see you or that bitch you married again.”

  Stephen backed away, but not before he began to smile. She’d been telling the truth!

  “Get out, I say!” Hugh commanded. He grabbed at his stomach and fell back on the bed.

  “Bested by a woman,” Stephen laughed as he left the room. He hurried down the stairs to the Great Hall. Bronwyn waited for him, wearing her plaid skirt and white blouse. She was once more his Highlands lassie. He went to her, touched her arm, smiled at her.

  She turned away coldly.

  “Bronwyn,” he began.

  “If you’re through here, I think we should ride. You are, of course, the master, and we will stay if that is your command.”

  He stared for a moment at the icy blueness of her eyes. “No, I don’t want to stay,” he said after a while. He turned away from her and walked toward the front door of the house.

  Bronwyn followed him slowly. The whole episode had started as a game, a childish game of one-upmanship, but through it she’d learned something startling about her husband. For some reason she thought she was the one who had to learn to trust him. She’d watched him over the last few months, dispassionately observed the changes in him. She’d seen him go from being an arrogant Englishman to becoming almost a Scot. She’d seen a lot of the coldness toward his men leave him, and the men, who were Englishmen, changed almost as much as their master. One by one they began wearing a plaid and stopped spending hours a day polishing their armor. Then, just a few days ago, Stephen had killed three Englishmen in an effort to save Bronwyn and Kirsty’s baby. To Bronwyn that act had been the final gesture she needed to make her believe in him.

  But what had Stephen learned about her? He disapproved of everything she did. He cursed her if she led her men. He was angry if she risked her life to save someone else. What could she do to please him? Should she try to become someone else? Would he like her better if she were like…like his beautiful sister-in-law? She had a clear idea of what Judith was like: gentle, never raising her voice, always smiling sweetly at her husband, never arguing with him, always agreeable.

  “That’s what men really want!” she said under her breath. Stephen expected her to sit still and be quiet, to never contradict his words. Just like the Englishwomen! Damn him! she cursed. She was no milk-and-water Englishwoman! She was the MacArran, and the sooner Stephen Montgomery learned tha