Bronwyn walked toward him as if she were in a daze. She looked at him carefully, but she saw no sign of blood. He was sweaty from his run, and she wanted to wipe his brow. “Did they harm you?” she asked quietly.
He stared at her, then grabbed her to him. “That was a brave thing you did, the way you protected the baby.”
Before she could speak, Donald was there. “Stephen? What of the other man?”
“He got away,” Stephen said as he held Bronwyn close to him, running his hands over her back as if to assure himself she was safe.
Kirsty and Donald exchanged looks. “He’ll go to the MacGregor, I’m sure,” Donald said.
Bronwyn pushed away from Stephen’s embrace. “How long have you known that I’m the MacArran?” she asked.
“Since I first saw you,” Kirsty answered. “I saw you a year ago, one day when you were riding with your father. My mother and I were picking berries.”
“So your mother knows too,” Bronwyn said. She still held Stephen’s hand and was glad for his reassurance. “And your father?”
Kirsty frowned. “He’s too angry to be forgiving. I wanted more time. I wanted him to get to know both of you, then after you’d gone we would tell him. We knew he’d have trouble hating you.”
“But there’s been too little time,” Donald added. “That Englishman will tell people.”
“Stephen,” Bronwyn said. “We must go. We can’t endanger Kirsty and her family.”
He nodded. “Donald, Kirsty—” he began.
“No,” Kirsty said, interrupting him. “You don’t need to say a word. You’re my son’s godparents, and I plan to hold you to it.”
Stephen smiled at her. “He can foster with one of my brothers.”
“An Englishman!” Bronwyn snapped. “No, Kirsty, he can come to the MacArrans.”
Donald grinned. “Stop it, both of you. We’ll make more boys for you. Now take the English horses and go home. There’s time before Christmas for you to get to Stephen’s brother’s.”
“Kirsty,” Bronwyn began, and Kirsty hugged her fiercely. “What will people say when I tell them my best friend is a MacGregor?” Bronwyn laughed.
Kirsty was serious. “You must return to us and talk to the MacGregor. He’s a good man, and he has an eye for a pretty woman. You must try to settle this feud. I wouldn’t want our sons to have to fight each other.”
“Nor would I,” Bronwyn said, breaking away. “I give you my word that I’ll return to you.”
Stephen put his arm around her. “We have to come back so I can get more of Harben’s home brew.”
Donald laughed. “And Bronwyn, I believe I owe you something for laughing at me when we first met. When I think of all the things I said about the MacArran!”
“They’re all true,” Stephen laughed. “She is the most headstrong, disobedient—”
“Magnificent woman ever,” Donald finished, then grabbed Bronwyn and hugged her. “I can never repay you for my son’s life. Thank you.” He set her aside, then hugged Stephen. “Go now, both of you. Take the Englishmen’s horses and go.” He pulled away from Stephen. “When Kirsty told me you were an Englishman, I didn’t believe her. I still don’t.”
Stephen laughed. “I’m sure that was meant as a compliment. Kirsty, it’s been an honor to meet you. I wish we could have stayed longer so my wife could learn more of your gentle ways.”
Before Bronwyn could make a retort, Donald burst out laughing.
“That’s just the
way she appears, friend. She gets her way just as much as Bronwyn does, she just goes about it differently.”
Bronwyn narrowed her eyes at Stephen. “Think before you reply,” she warned.
Stephen pulled her to him. “I’m thinking we must go.” He touched Rory’s hand, felt the little fingers wrap around his for a moment, then grabbed Bronwyn’s hand and walked toward the horses.
Neither of them could look back as they rode away. The short time in the crofter’s cottage had been a time of peace, and it was too painful to think of leaving it.