And tonight…Her thoughts stopped because she could not bear to think of tonight. This man was a stranger to her—a total stranger. She knew nothing about him. She didn’t know what he liked to eat, if he could read or sing, what sort of family he had. Nothing! Yet she was to climb into bed with him and share the most intimate experience of life and everyone seemed to think she should enjoy it!
Stephen turned and looked at her. He’d been aware of her staring at him, and it pleased him. There was puzzlement and perplexity on her lovely brow. He gave her a slight smile that he meant to be reassuring, but she looked away from him and again closed her eyes over her clasped hands.
For Bronwyn the day seemed to wear on endlessly. The men who were the wedding guests made no attempt to hide the fact that their only interest was in the wedding night. They sat about the great trestle tables and ate and drank for hours. And the more they drank, the cruder their jests became. With each statement, each drunken jibe, Bronwyn’s hatred for the English increased. They cared nothing for the fact that she was a woman; to them she was only a trophy to be enjoyed.
When Stephen reached for her hand, she drew back from him, and this action caused a new round of raucous laughter. She didn’t look at Stephen, but she saw that he drank deeply of the strong red wine.
The rays of sun lengthened across the room, and a couple of the men, drunk, began a quarrel and proceeded to wrestle with each other. No one tried to stop them, as they were too drunk to do much harm.
Bronwyn ate very little and drank even less. As the night approached she could feel her insides tightening. Morag had been right: what bothered her was the thought of tonight. She tried to reason with herself that she was a woman of courage. Several times she’d led cattle raids on the MacGregors. She’d rolled up in a plaid and slept through a snowstorm. She’d even fought the English beside her father. But nothing had ever frightened her like the idea of tonight. She knew about the physical act of mating, but what accompanied it? Would she change? Would this Stephen Montgomery own her after mating, as he seemed to believe? Morag said the bedding was a pleasant experience, but Bronwyn had seen young men turned to jelly because they believed they were in love. She’d seen happy, exciting women become plump, complaisant housewives after a man slipped a ring on their finger. Something more than just mating happened in a marriage bed, and she was afraid of that unknown thing.
When Morag came from behind and told Bronwyn it was time to ready herself for bed, Bronwyn’s face turned white and her hands gripped the carved lions’ heads of the chair.
Stephen held her arm for a moment. “They are jealous. Please ignore them. Soon we’ll be able to close the door and shut them out.”
“I’d rather stay here,” Bronwyn snarled at him, then followed Morag out of the Great Hall.
Morag didn’t speak as she unfastened the silver dress. Bronwyn was like an obedient doll as she slipped nude beneath the covers of the bed. Rab lay down on the floor, close to his mistress.
“Come, Rab,” Morag called. The dog didn’t budge. “Bronwyn! Send Rab out. He won’t like being with you tonight.”
Bronwyn glared at her. “You fear for the dog but not for me? Has everyone left me? Stay, Rab!”
“Ye’re feelin’ sorry for yerself, ’tis all. Once it’s over and done with ye won’t feel s
o sad.” She stopped as the door suddenly burst open.
Stephen rushed in and slammed the door behind him. “Here, Morag,” he said. “Go quickly. They’ll be angry when they see I’ve escaped them. But I can’t stand another moment of them, and I’ll not subject Bronwyn to any more of their crudities. Damn them!”
Morag grinned and put her hand on his arm. “Ye are a good lad.” She leaned forward. “Beware of the dog.” She gave his arm a final pat. He opened the door for her and then closed it behind her.
Stephen turned to Bronwyn and smiled at her. She sat up in the bed, her black hair cascading over the sheets. Her face was white, her eyes large and frightened in her face. Her knuckles, which clutched the sheet to her chin, were white from her hard clasp.
Stephen sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and pulled off his shoes, then removed his jacket and doublet. As he was unbuttoning his shirt he spoke. “I’m sorry there wasn’t a more festive atmosphere for our wedding. What with Sir Thomas’s house so near the border, many of the men’s wives are afraid to visit.”
He stopped as he heard the men pounding on the door.
“No fair, Stephen!” they yelled. “We want to see the bride. You have her all your life.”
Stephen stood up and turned to face his wife as he unbuckled his sword and small knife. “They’ll go away. They’re too drunk to do much harm.”
When he was nude, he slipped beneath the sheet beside her. He smiled at her glassy, straightforward stare. He put his hand out to touch her cheek. “Am I so formidable that you can’t look at me?”
Suddenly Bronwyn came alive. She jumped out of the bed and pulled the sheet with her. She backed against the wall, and a startled Rab came to stand before her. She stared at Stephen as he lay in the bed. His nude body, his muscular legs covered with pale blond hair, looked strangely vulnerable. His chest was even thicker than it seemed when clothed. She pressed her body closer to the wall. “Do not touch me,” she said under her breath.
Slowly, and with great patience, Stephen threw his legs over the side of the bed. She kept her eyes on his face and could see that he considered her outburst little more than a nuisance. He walked past her to the table where a goblet and glasses sat beside a bowl of fruit. He poured her some wine. “Here, drink this and calm down.”
She knocked the glass from his hand, sending it flying across the room where it fell into pieces. “I will not allow you to touch me,” she repeated.
“Bronwyn, you’re only nervous. Every bride is scared her first time.”
“First time!” she said in a high pitch. “Do you think this is my first time? I have lain with half the men of my clan. I just don’t wany any filthy Englishman touching me, that’s all.”
Stephen did not lose his patient smile. “I know as well as you do that that’s a lie. You wouldn’t be so frightened if you’d been with a man before. Now please relax. You’re only making things worse. Besides, what can you do?”
She hated his smug self-assurance that she was helpless against him. She hated everything about him. He stood there so confident. Even nude he emanated a feeling of power. Bronwyn returned his smile, for she had something that would take that smile from his face.
“Rab!” she commanded. “Attack!”