Stephen held Bronwyn’s shoulders firmly. “One can’t help the name one was born with.”
“No, ye canna.” He looked at Bronwyn’s long thick hair falling down her back, a few leaves stuck in it. “Anyone can see your Bronwyn isn’t like that other one.”
Bronwyn bent her head and acted as if she were kissing Stephen’s hand, but in truth she applied her teeth sharply to the back of it. He released her, and she turned to smile at Donald. “And of course you’ve seen the MacArran many times,” she said sweetly.
“No, not close, but I’ve seen her from a distance.”
“And ugly is she?”
“Oh, aye. Great shoulders like a man and taller than most of her men. And a face so ugly she must keep it covered.”
Stephen’s fingers bit into her shoulders in warning. She nodded. “That’s what I’ve always heard. It’s nice to meet someone who knows her, so to speak,” she said seriously.
Stephen bent forward to kiss her ear. “Behave yourself or you’ll get us killed,” he whispered.
Donald beamed at the two of them. “Ye must be newlyweds,” he said happily. “I can’t miss the way ye can’t keep from touchin’ one another.”
“You miss little, do you, Donald?” Bronwyn said.
“I like to think I’m an observant man. Our wagon is on the ridge above. Perhaps you’d like to take a meal with us and meet my wife, Kirsty.”
“No—” Bronwyn began, but Stephen stepped in front of her.
“We’d like that very much,” he said. “We haven’t eaten since yesterday noon. Perhaps you can give us directions. I’m afraid that after we were robbed, we wandered for quite some time and lost our way.”
“But ye made good use of the time,” Donald laughed, looking at the leaves with meaning.
“That we did!” Stephen said jovially, his arm firmly around Bronwyn’s shoulders.
“Well, come on then. A MacGregor always welcomes a MacGregor.” He turned and started up the hill.
“Don’t do anything to endanger us,” Stephen warned as they followed him.
“A MacGregor!” she muttered angrily.
“And an Englishman!” he add
ed in the same tone.
“I don’t know which is the lesser evil.”
Stephen grinned. “Hate me but not him. He has the food.”
At the top of the ridge all three of the people stopped and stared at the little woman bending over the fire. She was a delicate thing, no larger than a child, and her profile showed a little nose, a fragile mouth. But what was so unusual was that she was heavily, heavily pregnant. Her big belly stuck out in front of her like some massive monument. It was against all forces to reason that she was able to stand up and not let the weight of her burden pull her forward.
She did stand, quite easily, and turned to look at the three people watching her. For a moment she looked only at Donald, and a smile of pure adoration lit her face. When she turned and saw Bronwyn, her face changed. It seemed to go through several emotions: bewilderment, fear, disbelief, until finally she smiled.
Stephen and Bronwyn stood still, not breathing, expecting any moment that she’d announce who they were.
“Kirsty!” Donald said as he ran to his wife’s side. “Are you all right?”
She put her hand on the side of her big belly and looked up in apology. “I’m sorry to greet ye like that, but I had a very strong kick.”
Donald looked up and smiled. “He’s a strong lad,” he laughed. “Come and sit by the fire.”
Stephen was the first to relax his muscles and walk toward the fire. Bronwyn followed him slowly. She still wasn’t sure there hadn’t been recognition on Kirsty’s face. Perhaps she planned to tell Donald later and the MacGregors would attack them at night.
Donald introduced them to his wife, and even when the name Bronwyn was said, she only smiled. It wasn’t a Scots name but a Welsh one, and it should have caused comment.