Roger gave a brief, curt nod.
“Ye must take the name of the laird of the clan, or the men can’t accept ye. Ye must dress as the Scots or they’ll laugh at ye. Ye must love the land and the Scots.”
Roger lowered the ale. “What about the woman? What must I do to own her?”
“Bronwyn cares about little else except her people. She would have killed herself before she married an Englishman, but she knew her death would cause war within her clan. If ye make the woman know ye mean well for her people, ye’ll have her.”
Roger gave the man the ale. “I want to know more. What is a clan? Why was a woman made chief? Who are the enemies of Clan MacArran?”
“Talking is thirsty work.”
“You’ll have all you can hold, just as long as you tell me what I want to know.”
Bronwyn met Roger Chatworth early the next morning. In spite of her good intentions, she’d been so excited about the prospect of a ride in the woods that she’d hardly been able to sleep. Morag had helped her dress in a soft brown velvet gown, all the while issuing dire warnings about Englishmen bearing gifts.
“I merely want the ride,” Bronwyn said stubbornly.
“Aye, and what mere trifle does this Chatworth want? He knows ye’re to marry another.”
“Am I?” Bronwyn snapped. “Then where is my bridegroom? Should I sit in my wedding gown for another full day and wait for him?”
“It might be better than chasing after some hot-blooded young earl.”
“An earl? Roger Chatworth is an English earl?”
Morag refused to answer, but gave the gown a final straightening before pushing her from the room.
Now, as Bronwyn sat atop the horse, Rab running beside her, she felt alive for the first time in many weeks.
“The roses have returned to your cheeks,” Roger said, laughing.
She smiled in return, and the smile softened her chin and lit her eyes. She spurred the horse to a faster pace. Rab with his long, loping strides kept pace with the horse.
Roger turned for a moment to glance at the men following them. There were three of his personal guards, two squires, and a packhorse loaded with food and plate. He turned and looked ahead at Bronwyn. He frowned when she glanced over her shoulder and spurred her mount even faster. She was an excellent horsewoman, and no doubt the woods were full of men from her clan, all eager and willing to help her escape.
He threw up his hand and motioned his men forward as he set spurs to his own mount.
Bronwyn made her horse come close to flying. The wind in her hair, the sense of freedom, were exhilarating. When she came to the stream, she was going full speed. She had no idea if the horse had ever taken a jump before, but she urged it on regardless of the risk. It sailed over the water as if it had wings. On the far side she pulled the animal to a halt and turned to look back.
Roger and his men were just approaching the stream.
“Lady Bronwyn!” Roger shouted. “Are you all right?”
“Of course,” she laughed, then led her horse through the water to where Roger waited for her. She bent forward and patted the horse’s neck. “He’s a good animal. He took the jump well.”
Roger dismounted and walked to her side. “You gave me a terrible fright. You could have been injured.”
She laughed happily. “A Scotswoman is not likely to be injured while atop a horse.”
Roger put his arms up to help her dismount.
Suddenly Rab jumped between them, his lips drawn back showing long, sharp teeth. He growled deeply, menacingly. Roger instinctively retreated.
“Rab!” The dog obeyed Bronwyn immediately. He moved away but his eyes, with a warning gleam, never left Roger. “He means to protect me,” she said. “He doesn’t like anyone touching me.”
“I’ll remember that in future,” Roger said warily as he aided Bronwyn off her horse. “Perhaps you’d like to rest after your ride,” he suggested. He snapped his fingers, and his squires brought two chairs upholstered in red velvet. “My lady,” Roger offered.
She smiled in wonder at the chairs set in the woods. The grass under their feet was like a velvet carpet. The stream played its music, and even as she thought that, one of Roger’s men began to strum a lute. She closed her eyes for a moment.