Highland Velvet

by Jude Deveraux

  “What were you saying to the man?” Stephen asked flatly.

  She twisted out of his grip. “Do you never say anything to me except in anger? Why can’t you be like other husbands and greet your wife in a friendly manner? I have not seen you in days, and all you have done is curse me.”

  He grabbed her into his arms. “Bronwyn,” he whispered. “You will be the death of me. Why did you have to jump into an icy pond in the dead of winter?”

  She pushed away from him. “I refuse to answer such questions.”

  He grabbed her again, pulled her mouth to his, bruising her, his teeth hard against her lips. He seemed as if he wanted more than just a kiss from her. “I missed you,” he whispered. “Every minute I thought of you.”

  Her heart was pounding in her breast. She felt like she could melt against him. But his next words broke the spell.

  “Was that one of Miles’s men you were talking to when I entered?”

  She tried to pull away from him. “Is this your jealousy again? I can hear it in your voice.”

  “Bronwyn, no. Listen to me. I only want to warn you. The Englishmen are not like your Highlanders. You can’t talk to them as if they were your brothers as you do your own men. In England too often the ladies sleep with their husbands’ men-at-arms.”

  Bronwyn’s eyes widened. “Are you accusing me of sleeping with your men?” she gasped.

  “No, of course not, but—”

  “But you accused me of doing just that with Hugh Lasco.”

  “Hugh Lasco is a gentleman!” Stephen snapped.

  Bronwyn nearly jumped away from him. “So!” she blazed. “At least you think I am a discriminating whore!” She whirled about and started toward the door.

  Stephen grabbed her arm. “I am not accusing you of anything. I am trying to explain that things are different in England than in Scotland.”

  “Oh! So now I’m too stupid to be able to learn the difference between one country and another. You can adjust but I can’t!”

  He stared at her. “What’s wrong with you? You aren’t acting like yourself at all.”

  She turned away from him. “And what would you know of me? You’ve never done anything but curse at me since I met you. Nothing I do outside the bedroom pleases you. If I lead my men, that makes you angry. If I try to save one of your brother’s serfs, that angers you. If I’m kind to your men, you accuse me of sleeping with them. Tell me, what can I do to please you?”

  Stephen glared at her with cold eyes. “I had no idea you found me so unpleasant. I will leave you to your own company.” He turned away stiffly and left her.

  Bronwyn stared after him, tears beginning to form in her eyes. What was wrong with her? Stephen hadn’t really accused her of sleeping with the man, and he had every right to warn her about what his men would think. Why couldn’t she welcome him home like she wanted to? All she wanted was to be held by him, loved by him. Yet for some reason she started a quarrel every time he approached her.

  Suddenly she felt as if her whole body ached. She put her hand to her forehead. She wasn’t used to not feeling well, and now she realized she’d been ignoring the feeling for days. Of course, her late nights with Judith and this morning spent in a half-frozen pond hadn’t helped her any. She cursed the disease-ridden English countryside and left the stables.

  “Bronwyn,” Judith called. “Would you like some fresh bread?”

  Bronwyn leaned back against the stone wall of the stables. The quarrel was upsetting her stomach. The thought of food nauseated her. “No,” she whispered, her hand to her stomach.

  “Bronwyn, what is it?” Judith asked, setting the basket down. “Aren’t you feeling well?” She put her hand on her sister-in-law’s forehead. “Here, sit down.” She urged her to a barrel set by the wall. “Breathe deeply and it will pass.”

  “What will?” Bronwyn asked sharply.

  “The nausea.”

  “The what?” Bronwyn gasped. “What are you talking about?”

  Judith paused. “Unless I miss my guess, you’re going to have a baby.” She smiled broadly at Bronwyn’s look. “It is rather startling when you first realize it.” She caressed her own stomach. “We’ll deliver close together,” she said proudly.

  “You! You’re going to have a baby too?”

  Judith had a faraway smile on her face. “Yes. I…lost my first one, a miscarriage, so for this one I’m being so careful I’m not even telling anyone. Except Gavin, of course.”

  “Of course,” Bronwyn said and looked away, then back again. “When is your baby due?”

  “In seven months.” She chuckled.

  “What are you laughing at?” Bronwyn asked. “I need some humor right now.”

  “I was just thinking that my mother will be able to come to my lying-in.” She paused, then began to explain. “I thought she would not be able to come, as she was to deliver at the same time.”

  “Your mother! How fortunate you are to have your parents alive.”

  “No,” Judith smiled. “My father died several months ago.”

  “And the child is not his?” Bronwyn asked quietly.

  “Oh, no, and I am pleased by that. My father often beat my mother. She was held captive by a young man, and her guard was Gavin’s best man, John Bassett. I’m afraid my mother and he found an extraordinary means of entertainment.”

  Bronwyn laughed.

  “Yes,” Judith continued. “When Gavin found out there was to be a child, he allowed John and my mother to marry.”

  “And she’s had her own babe now?”

  “It’s due in a couple of months, so she should be well enough to travel to me when I am due. I must get back to work now. Why don’t you just sit there and rest?”

  “Judith, you said your mother was being held captive. How did she escape?”

  Judith’s golden eyes darkened with memory. “I killed her captor, and Stephen’s men brought down the wall of the old keep.”

  Bronwyn could see the pain in Judith’s eyes. She asked no more questions before Judith turned away toward the gate that separated the two parts of the castle complex.

  Bronwyn sat still for quite some time. A baby! she thought. A soft, sweet thing like Kirsty’s baby. Her mind seemed to leave her, and she hardly noticed when she stood and began to walk. She thought of Tam and how proud he’d be of her. She smiled dreamily when she thought of Stephen’s reaction to the news. He’d be so happy! He’d grab her and toss her above his head and laugh with pleasure. Then they’d argue over whether the child would be named MacArran or Montgomery. There was no doubt, of course, that he’d be a MacArran.

  She kept walking in a dreamlike trance, never noticing when she reached the open gate. The men on the wall guarding the entrance didn’t challenge her or hinder her movements in any way.

  What would she name her child? she thought. James for her father, and perhaps another name for Stephen’s family. What if the babe was a girl? she thought and smiled warmly. Clan MacArran would have two female lairds in a row. She must teach her daughter all the things she’d need to know to be laird.

  “My lady,” someone said.

  Bronwyn hardly heard the voice. She was in a trance, and very little penetrated it. In fact, she was hardly aware that she’d walked for quite some time and was now out of sight of the castle guards.

  “My lady,” the voice repeated. “Are you well?”

  Bronwyn looked up at the man with an angelic smile of great warmth. “I am well,” she said in a vague manner. “I am more than well.”

  The man dismounted and went to her side. “I can see that,” he said in a low voice, his lips close to her ear.

  Bronwyn still paid little attention to the man. All she could think of was her child. Morag would love another baby to care for, she was thinking as the man’s lips touched her ear. The touch brought her out of her reverie.

  She jumped away from him. “How dare you,” she gasped. No man except Stephen had ever touched her unless she allowed him.
She gave a quick look about her and realized how far she was from the castle.

  Richard misinterpreted her look. “There’s no need to worry. We’re quite alone, and Lord Gavin has just returned from Scotland, so everyone is busy at the moment. We have time.”

  She backed away from him. A thousand thoughts flew through her mind. Stephen’s warnings screamed at her. And worry for her baby occupied most of her mind. Please don’t let my child be hurt!

  “There’s no reason to fear me,” Richard said in a honey-coated voice. “We could have fun, you and I.”

  Bronwyn straightened her shoulders. “I am Bronwyn MacArran, and you will return to the castle.”

  “MacArran!” he laughed. “The men said you were an independent woman, but they didn’t say you’d go so far as to disown your husband.”

  “You are insulting. Now go and leave me alone.”

  Richard’s smile left his face. “You think I’m going to leave you after the way you’ve been teasing me? You chose me to accompany you this morning. I’ll wager you were sorry when we had no time to be alone.”

  She was aghast. “Is that what you thought? That I wanted to be alone with you?”

  He touched her hair, his little finger grazing her breast.

  Her eyes opened wide, then she looked for Rab. The dog was always with her.

  “I took the precaution of locking your dog in a granary,” Richard smiled. “Now, come and stop playing these games. You know you want me as much as I want you.” He grabbed Bronwyn, his hand twisting in her hair. He ground his lips against hers.

  Bronwyn felt waves of anger shoot through her. She relaxed in his arms, leaned backward, and as he bent forward to press against her, she brought her knee up.

  Richard groaned and released her abruptly.

  Bronwyn struggled to keep from falling, then tripped on the heavy velvet skirt. She cursed as she gathered handfuls of the fabric and began to run. But no matter how much she held, more fabric swirled about her legs and hindered her. She tripped once again, then slung the velvet over her arm. The third time she tripped, Richard was upon her. He grabbed her ankle, and she fell forward, face down into the cold, hard earth. She gasped for air.

  Richard ran his hand up her legs. “Now, my fiery Scotswoman, we’ll see if that fire can be put to use.”

  Bronwyn tried to kick out at him, but he held her to the ground. He grabbed her dress and tore it, exposing the skin of her back to the cold winter air.

  “Now,” he said as he placed his lips to the nape of her neck.

  The next moment Richard screamed as a mass of gray fur and sharp teeth attacked him. Bronwyn rolled away as Richard tried to stand and fight Rab.

  An arm pulled her up. Miles drew her to him, held her with one arm, his drawn sword in the other. “Call your dog off him,” Miles said quietly.

  Bronwyn’s voice was shaking. “Rab!” she commanded.

  The dog reluctantly left off his attack and went to her side.

  Richard tried to stand. There was blood on his arm and his thigh. His clothes were torn in several places. “The damned dog attacked me for no reason!” he began. “Lady Bronwyn fell, and I stopped to help her.”

  Miles stepped away from his sister-in-law. His eyes were as hard as steel. “You do not touch the Montgomery women,” he said in a deadly voice.

  “She came at me!” the man said. “She asked—”

  They were the last words he ever spoke. Miles’s sword went straight through Richard’s heart. Miles barely glanced at the dead man, one of his own men. He turned to Bronwyn and seemed to sense what she felt—helpless and violated.

  He put his arms around her gently and drew her to him. “You’re safe now,” he said quietly. “No one else will try to harm you.”

  Suddenly her body began to tremble, and Miles drew her closer. “He said I had encouraged him,” she whispered.

  “Hush,” Miles said. “I’ve been watching him. He didn’t understand your Scots ways.”

  Bronwyn pulled away to look at him. “That’s what Stephen said. He warned me of talking to the men. He said the Englishmen didn’t understand when I talked to them.”

  Miles smoothed the hair from her forehead. “There’s a formality between an English lady and her husband’s men that is not in your culture. Now let’s return. I’m sure someone will have seen me leave following your dog.”

  She glanced at the dead man beside them. “He locked Rab away and I didn’t even notice. I was—” She couldn’t tell anyone about the baby before she told Stephen.

  “I heard the dog yelping, and when I released him, he went crazy, barking at me, sniffing the earth.” He looked with admiration at the big dog. “He knew you were in trouble.”

  She knelt and rubbed her face in Rab’s rough coat.

  They both turned at the sound of horses. Gavin and Stephen rode toward them quickly. Stephen slid from the saddle before the horse came to a full stop. “What happened here?” he demanded.

  “The man tried to attack Bronwyn,” Miles said.

  Stephen glared at his wife, his eyes taking in the scraped place on her cheek, her torn gown. “I told you,” he said through clenched teeth. “You wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Stephen,” Gavin said, his hand on his brother’s arm. “Now’s not the time.”

  “Not the time!” Stephen exploded at his wife. “Not an hour ago you listed all my faults. Did you find someone else with fewer faults? Did you encourage him on purpose?”

  Before anyone else could speak, Stephen turned away and mounted his horse. Bronwyn, Miles, and Gavin watched helplessly.

  “He should be whipped for that!” Miles sneered.

  “Quiet!” Gavin commanded. He turned to Bronwyn. “He’s upset and confused. You have to forgive him.”

  “He’s jealous!” Bronwyn whispered fiercely. “That empty jealousy of his changes him into a madman.” She felt weak and defeated. He cared nothing for her but only for his own jealousy.

  Gavin put his arm around her protectively. “Come home and let Judith get you something to drink. She makes a delicious apple drink.”

  Bronwyn nodded numbly and allowed herself to be put onto Miles’s horse.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE DRINK JUDITH GAVE BRONWYN PUT HER TO SLEEP almost instantly. She’d had too much in one day—the rescue of the child and the near rape. She dreamed Of being lost and of searching for Stephen, but he wasn’t there.

  She woke suddenly, her body coated in sweat, and reached for him. The bed was empty. She sat up and looked about the dimly lit room, searching for him.

  She felt unbearably lonely. Why did she quarrel with Stephen all the time? When Miles had told her the Scots’ ways were different, she didn’t get angry. It was only when Stephen said the same thing that she flew into a rage.

  She threw the covers back and grabbed a robe Judith had lent her. She must find Stephen and tell him that she’d been wrong. She must tell him about the child and ask that he forgive her for her foul mood.

  Rab followed her as she went to a chest and withdrew her plaid. The dog was afraid to let her out of his sight.

  She dressed quickly and left her room. The house was silent and dark as she made her way downstairs. A single fat candle shown from the half-open winter parlor door. The fire was nearly dead.

  She pushed the door open as she heard a woman giggle. Bronwyn halted as she realized she’d probably interrupted Raine or Miles with one of the housemaids. She turned to go as the woman’s words stopped her.

  “Oh, Stephen,” the woman giggled. “I’ve missed you so much. No man has hands like yours.”

  Bronwyn heard the deep rumble of a familiar laugh.

  She was not a timid woman to run crying from the room. She’d had one insult too many for the day. She pushed the heavy door open with a vicious shove and marched to the fireplace.

  Stephen sat in a large chair, fully clothed, a plump young girl, bared from the waist up, sprawled across his lap. He disinterestedly ha
d one hand on her breast; the other held a flagon of wine.

  Rab bared his teeth at the girl, and she gave one look from Bronwyn to the dog, screamed, then fled the room.

  Stephen only glanced at his wife. “Welcome,” he slurred and held up his cup to her.

  Bronwyn felt her heart pounding. To see Stephen touching another woman! Her skin felt as if it were on fire and her head throbbed.

  Stephen looked up at her. “How does it feel, my dear wife?” His eyes were red, his movements slow. He was obviously drunk. “I’ve had to stand aside and watch you play with man after man. Do you know how I felt when you let Hugh touch you?”

  “You did this on purpose,” she whispered. “You did this to punish me.” She held her shoulders back. She wanted to hurt him, to make him ache as she did. “I was right when I told Sir Thomas Crichton I couldn’t marry you. You aren’t fit to be married to a Scotswoman. I’ve stood by for months and watched you ape our ways. And I’ve seen you fail at everything.”

  In spite of his drunkenness he reacted swiftly. He threw his flagon to the floor, sprang to his feet, and grabbed her by the neckline of her dress. “And what have you given me?” he rasped. “I have made every effort to learn from you, but when have you listened to me? You’ve fought me at every moment. You’ve laughed at me before your men, even scorned my advice in front of my own brothers. Yet I’ve taken everything because I am fool enough to believe I loved you. How can anyone love someone as selfish as you? When are you going to grow up and stop hiding behind your clan? You aren’t concerned with your clan; your only concern is what you want and what you need.”

  He pushed her away as if he were suddenly very tired of her. “I’m tired of trying to please some cold woman. I’m going to find one who can give me what I need.”

  He turned away and drunkenly left the room.

  Bronwyn stood where she was for a long time. She had no idea he despised her so much. How many times had he been close to saying he loved her yet she’d ignored him? Oh, but she’d been fiery and proud when she told him that of course they cared for each other but that what she wanted was more important than love.