At first she only spurred her horse faster, urging it away from the familiar voice. It wasn’t until he was beside her that she realized it was her brother who called to her.
“Davey,” she whispered and reined in her horse sharply.
Davey grinned at her. He was tall like Bronwyn, with their father’s black hair, but he had inherited their mother’s brown eyes. He was thinner than Bronwyn remembered, and his eyes seemed to have a wild inner glow. “You’ve been crying,” he said. “Because of the men the MacGregor killed?”
“You knew?” she said, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand.
“It’s still my clan, in spite of what Father said.” For an instant his eyes were hard and cold, then they changed. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. Sit with me and let your horse rest.”
Suddenly her brother seemed like an old friend, and she pushed from her mind the last time she’d seen him—the night Jamie MacArran had named her laird. It had been an unexpected announcement and therefore more painful. All the clan had gathered and was waiting for the proclamation that Davey would be the next lai
rd. James MacArran was always honest about himself and especially about his children. He told the clan about his children. He said Davey liked war too much, that he cared more for battle than for protecting his clan. He said Bronwyn had too much temper and too often acted before she thought. Both of his children felt deeply humiliated at their father’s complaints. Jamie went on to say that Bronwyn could be controlled if she had a level-headed husband such as Ian, Ramsey or Ennis. Even after that statement no one guessed what Jamie had in mind. When he announced Bronwyn as his successor, provided she marry one of the young men, the hall was silent. Then, one by one, the clan raised cups to salute her. It took Davey a few moments to realize what was happening. When he did, he rose and cursed his father, called him a traitor, and declared himself no longer his son. He asked for men to follow him, to forever leave the clan. Twelve young men walked out of the hall behind Davey that night.
Bronwyn had not seen her brother since that night. Since then several men had been killed, her father included; she had been married to an Englishman. Suddenly all that Davey’d said so long ago seemed unimportant.
She dismounted her horse and put her arms around him. “Oh, Davey, everything has turned out so badly,” she cried.
“The Englishman?”
She nodded against his bony shoulder. “He’s changed everything. Today my men looked at me as if I were the intruder. I saw it in their eyes that they thought he was right and I was wrong.”
“Do you mean he’s turning the men against you?” Davey snapped, moving away from her. “How could they be so blind? He must be a good actor to overcome the horror of our father’s death. How can the men forget that it was the English who killed the MacArran? And what of Ian? Has even Tam forgotten his son’s death?”
“I don’t know,” Bronwyn said as she sat down on a fallen log. “They all seem to trust him. He dresses as a Scotsman. He trains with my men. He even spends time with the crofters. I see them together, laughing, and I know they like him.”
“But has he ever done anything to gain their trust? I mean something besides kissing babies?”
She put her hands to her temples. All she could see was the four dead men on the ground. Had she caused their deaths? “He hasn’t done anything to make them distrust him either.”
Davey snorted. “He would be careful not to. He will wait until he gets their confidence before he brings his Englishmen here.”
“Englishmen? What are you talking about?”
“Don’t you see?” Davey said with great patience. “Tell me, is he planning to return to England soon?”
“Yes,” she said, surprised. “I believe he plans us to leave in a few weeks.”
“That’s when he’ll bring his Englishmen back here. He’ll teach them all he’s learned about fighting like a Scotsman, and we’ll have very little defense against them.”
“No!” she said as she rose. “Davey, you can’t mean this. He’s not like this. He can be kind, and I know he’s concerned about my men.”
He gave her a look of disgust. “I’ve heard how he makes you howl in bed. You’re afraid of losing him. You’d sacrifice your clan for an Englishman’s hands on your body.”
“That’s not true! The clan always comes first with me.” She stopped abruptly. “I had forgotten how much we quarrel. I must go back now.”
“No,” Davey said quietly, his hand on her arm. “Forgive me for upsetting you. Sit here with me for a while. I’ve missed you. Tell me how Larenston is. Did you get the leak in the roof fixed? How many sons does Tam have now?”
She smiled as she sat down again. They talked for several minutes as the night closed about them, about the everyday happenings within the clan. She found out that Davey was living somewhere in the hills, but he was evasive about his life and so she respected his privacy.
“And do you enjoy being laird?” he asked amiably. “Do the men obey you?”
She smiled. “Yes. They treat me with great respect.”
“Until this morning when they turned to your husband.”
“Don’t start again.”
Davey leaned back against a tree. “It just seems a shame that centuries of MacArrans are now ruled by an Englishman. If you’d had time, you could have established your own authority, but you can’t expect the men to follow a woman when a man is there pushing her behind him.”