Highland Velvet Read online

  Bronwyn took her hand from Miles’s grasp, and only reluctantly did her eyes leave him. There was something extraordinarily intriguing about the young man. She gave her hand to Gavin, then turned toward the other brother. “And you must be Raine. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

  “Any of it good?” Raine asked, taking her hand, smiling so his dimples were quite deep.

  “Very little of it,” she answered honestly. “One of my men, Tam, a great oak of a man, was Stephen’s trainer in Scotland. For weeks on end I heard your name used as a cry to goad Stephen whenever he tried to get away from Tam’s rather strenuous demands.”

  Raine laughed loudly. “It must have worked, for he beat me in a short wrestle this morning.” He eyed Stephen. “Though of course he has yet to accept my challenge to a longer match.”

  Bronwyn widened her eyes and studied the massiveness of Raine’s wide shoulders and thick chest. “It seems to me that the first time would be the only necessary time to beat a man.”

  Raine grabbed her by the shoulders and exuberantly kissed her cheek. “Stephen, you should keep this one,” he laughed.

  “I am trying,” he said as he took her hand just before Miles reached for it again. “Dinner is laid, shall we go?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.

  She smiled at him sweetly, as if they’d never had a quarrel. “Yes, please,” she said demurely.

  It was while they sat at dinner, as course after course of food was brought, that Bronwyn realized how different these people were from the English people she’d met before. This laughing, happy family bore no resemblance to the men she’d met at Sir Thomas Crichton’s. Judith had gone to great expense and trouble to make her welcome. Stephen’s brothers accepted her, did not make sneering remarks because she was the laird of a clan.

  Suddenly everything seemed to be spinning around and around. She’d grown up hating the MacGregors and the English. Now she was godmother to a MacGregor, and she found herself loving this warm, close English family. Yet the MacGregors had killed the MacArrans for centuries. The English had killed her father. How could she love people she should hate?

  “Lady Bronwyn?” Gavin asked. “Is the wine too strong for you?”

  “No,” she smiled. “Everything is very nearly perfect. And that, I’m afraid, is my problem.”

  He studied her for a moment. “I want you to know that we’re your family too. If you need any of us at any time, we’ll be here.”

  “Thank you,” she answered seriously. She knew he meant his words.

  After dinner Judith took Bronwyn on a tour of the area inside the castle walls. There were two sections to the castle, the outer one where the castle retainers lived and worked, and the more protected inner circle for the family. Bronwyn listened and asked hundreds of questions about the incredibly efficient and well-organized castle complex. The acres of land inside the tall, thick walls were almost self-sustaining.

  Stephen stopped them as they were speaking to the blacksmith and Judith was showing her a new forging technique.

  “Bronwyn,” Stephen said, “may I speak to you?”

  She knew he had something serious to say, so she followed him outside where they could be private.

  “Gavin and I are returning to Larenston to get Chris’s body.”

  “Tam will have buried him by now.”

  He nodded. “I know, but I feel we owe it to Chris’s family. They don’t even know yet that he’s dead. It will help some if he can be buried in his own land.”

  She nodded in agreement. “Chris didn’t like Scotland,” she said solemnly.

  He ran his knuckles along her cheek. “It’s the first time we’ve been apart since we were married. I’d like to think—” He stopped and dropped his hand.

  “Stephen—” she began.

  Suddenly he took her into his arms and held her close to him. “I wish we could go back to the time we spent with Kirsty and Donald. You seemed happy there.”

  She clung to him. In spite of the danger they’d been in, she too remembered the time as happy.

  “You’ve come to mean so much to me,” he whispered. “I hate to leave when you’re so…cold to me.”

  When she laughed, he pushed her away, frowning. “Do I amuse you?” he asked angrily.

  “I was thinking that I feel far from cold right now. Tell me, how long do you have before you leave?”

  “Minutes,” he said in such a tone of regret that she laughed again.

  “And how long before you return?”

  He put his fingers under her chin. “Three long, long days, at least. Knowing Gavin, we’ll ride hard.” He smiled. “We won’t stop every few hours as you and I did.”

  She slipped her arms up around his neck. “You will not forget me while you are gone?” she whispered, her lips against his.

  “As easily as I could forget a thunderstorm,” he said evenly, chuckling when she tried to move away. “Come here, wench,” he commanded.

  His mouth took possession of hers in such a way that she forgot all thoughts of honor and respect. She remembered only their romps on the Highlands moors. His hand moved her head to slant against his mouth, and she opened her lips under his, drinking in the sweetness of the tip of his tongue. She pressed her body closer to his and tightened her arms.

  “Stephen—” she began.

  He put two fingers on her lips. “We have much to talk of when I return. Are you willing?”

  She smiled happily. “Yes, I am very willing.”

  He kissed her once again, with longing and promises of what was to come. When he turned away, it was with obvious reluctance.

  It was at night that Bronwyn realized how much she missed Stephen. The big bed in the lovely tiled bedchamber seemed cold and unbearable. She thought of Stephen riding back into Scotland without so much as a night’s rest. She cursed herself for not insisting she’d return with him.

  The more she thought, the more restless she became. She tossed the covers aside and walked quickly across the cold floor to a chest in the corner. She withdrew her Highlands clothes, and within minutes she was fastening her plaid to her shoulder. She thought perhaps a walk in the cold courtyard below would help her sleep.

  As soon as she was outside, the clatter of horses’ hoofs on the bricked yard echoed against the buildings. “Stephen!” she gasped and began to run forward. She knew that only family would be allowed to enter at night.

  “Lady Mary,” someone said quietly. “It’s good to see you again. Was your trip pleasant?”

  “As good as I could wish, James,” came a gentle, soft voice.

  “Shall I fetch Lady Judith?”

  “No, don’t bother her. She needs her rest. I can find my own way.”

  Bronwyn stood in the shadows and watched as one of the castle retainers helped Lady Mary dismount. She remembered how Stephen had compared his sister to the Madonna, said she was the peacemaker and that she lived in a convent near the Montgomery estates.

  “We expected you earlier,” James said. “I hope nothing was wrong.”

  “One of the children was sick. I stayed to tend the child.”

  “You’re too kind-hearted, Lady Mary. You shouldn’t take in them beggars’ children. Some of them have murderers for fathers. And mothers too if the truth be known.”

  Mary started to speak, then stopped and whirled to face Bronwyn. She smiled. “I had the oddest feeling I was being watched.” She stepped forward. “You must be Stephen’s Bronwyn.”

  The courtyard was very dim with only the moonlight and one lantern for light. Mary was short and plump with a perfectly oval face. It was a face anyone would trust.

  “How did you know?” Bronwyn smiled. “I haven’t been able to fool any of the Montgomerys.”

  “I’ve heard of the heartiness of the Scots. And to withstand this wind when there is no need, it would take a great deal of stamina.”

  Bronwyn laughed. “Come inside to the winter parlor, and I’ll have a roaring-hot fire for you in minutes.�