Tam merely gave a grunt and resheathed his claymore.
“Damn you, Stephen,” Bronwyn hissed. “Why were you riding along the cliff like that? And why didn’t you give any warning of your approach?”
Slowly, he dismounted his horse, tossed the reins to one of the men behind him and walked toward his wife. Casually, he put his hand on her ankle and started traveling upward.
Bronwyn kicked out at him. “Let me go!” she demanded. “I have more important duties than to play games with you.”
With lightning quickness, Stephen caught her waist and hauled her out of the saddle. “Did you worry about me riding along the cliff?” he murmured, pulling her to him.
“Tam!” Bronwyn gasped, pushing at Stephen.
“The lad needs no help from me,” Tam answered.
“But I would be willing to help,” Miles said quietly.
Stephen released his wife abruptly. “Miles,” he gasped, and hugged his brother when Miles was dismounted. “When did you arrive? Why are you in Scotland? I thought you were with Uncle Simon—and what’s this I hear about Uncle Simon wanting your head on a platter?”
Miles gave a bit of a smile and a shrug to his brother.
Stephen grimaced as he knew he wasn’t likely to get anything from his younger brother. Miles was so closemouthed it was infuriating.
“Miles brought Elizabeth Chatworth,” Bronwyn said flatly.
Stephen turned to look through the men and upwards to see Elizabeth. For all her soft features, she looked rigid, unbending, as she sat stiffly in the saddle. Stephen started toward her but Miles caught his arm.
“Do not touch her,” Miles said conversationally as he moved toward Elizabeth.
After a second’s astonishment, Stephen grinned. He well understood jealousy; he’d just never seen it in his brother before.
As Miles put his arms up to Elizabeth and she hesitated, he said, “Stephen will not harm you and he’ll be expecting the same courtesy.” There was a twinkle in Miles’s eyes.
Elizabeth couldn’t help a slight smile as she glanced at Sir Guy, who had shot a couple of glances toward her that said she was part monster, part witch. They had to wait to be introduced to Stephen because Kit, who’d fallen asleep against Tam, had wakened and launched himself onto his beloved uncle. Stephen had Kit settled on one arm as he extended his hand to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth stood rigid and did not take his hand.
Miles sent his brother a look of warning and Stephen, with a knowing smile, dropped his hand.
“You are welcome to our home,” Stephen said.
“I am a Chatworth.”
“And I am a Montgomery and”—he glanced at Bronwyn—“a MacArran. You are welcome. Shall we walk along the cliff? It’s steep and can sometimes be frightening.”
“I can ride a h
orse,” Elizabeth said flatly.
Miles took her arm, raised her fingers to his lips. “Of course you can. My clumsy brother is only trying to make an excuse to talk to you.”
“Uncle Stephen!” Kit said. He’d been trying so hard to wait until the adults were finished speaking. “Lady Elizabeth hit Papa and made Sir Guy limp and we slept in the forest without a tent or anything.” He smiled at Elizabeth who winked back at him.
“Made Sir Guy limp?” Stephen laughed. “Somehow I doubt that.”
“Lady Elizabeth Chatworth broke Sir Guy’s toes,” Bronwyn said coolly.
Stephen narrowed his eyes at his wife. “I’m not sure I like your tone.”
Miles spoke quickly to get his brother’s attention. “How are the MacGregors?”