Bronwyn smiled warmly. “It’s wonderfully light, but then yours is so beautiful.”
“Come to my solar and let’s talk,” Judith said.
The men stared at their departing wives in open-mouthed astonishment.
“I’ve never seen Judith take to anyone like that,” Gavin said. “And how did she know she was your wife? From the way she was dressed, I would have agreed with James.”
“And Bronwyn!” Stephen said. “She hates the English clothes. You can’t imagine how many sermons I’ve heard about the confining way the English dress their women.”
Gavin began to smile. “Black hair and blue eyes! Did I really see her or was it my imagination? I thought you said she was ugly and fat. She couldn’t really be the laird of a clan, could she?”
Stephen chuckled. “Let’s sit down, and do you think I could have something to eat?” His eyes twinkled. “Or do the servants only obey Judith now?”
“If I weren’t so glad you were safe, I’d repay you for that remark,” Gavin said as he left the room to order food and send men to find Raine and Miles.
“How is Judith, really?” Stephen asked when the food was brought. “I know you said in your letters that she was fully recovered from the miscarriage, but…”
Gavin picked up a hard-boiled egg from Stephen’s plate. “You saw her,” he said heavily. “I have to fight for every inch of control I have over my own people.”
Stephen looked up sharply. “And you love it,” he said slowly.
Gavin grinned. “She certainly makes life interesting. Every time I see one of those prim, pink-and-white wives of other men, I’m thankful I have Judith. I think I’d go crazy if I couldn’t have a good, rousing fight once a week. Enough about me! What’s your Bronwyn like? Is she always so sweet and docile as a few minutes ago?”
Stephen didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Docile? Bronwyn! She has no idea what the word means She was standing to one side probably to judge whether to use a knife or that hell-hound dog of hers.”
“Why should she do that?”
“She’s a Scot, man! The Scots hate the English for burning their crops, raping their women, because the English are a damned, insufferable, arrogant lot of bastards who think they’re better than the honest, generous Scots, and—”
“Wait a minute!” Gavin laughed. “The last I heard, you were an Englishman.”
Stephen returned to his food, forcing himself to calm. “I guess I forgot for a moment.”
Gavin leaned back in his chair and studied his brother. “From the length of your hair, I’d say you forgot some months ago.”
“I wouldn’t criticize the Scots’ dress until you’ve tried it, if I were you,” Stephen snapped.
Gavin put his hand on his brother’s arm. “What’s wrong? What is worrying you?”
Stephen rose and walked toward the fireplace. “Sometimes I don’t know who I am anymore. When I went to Scotland, I knew I was a Montgomery, and I felt quite noble about my mission there. I was to teach the ignorant Scots our more civilized ways.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “They aren’t ignorant, Gavin. Far from it. Lord, but what we could learn from them! We don’t even know the meaning of loyalty. That clan of Bronwyn’s would die for her, and damned if she won’t—and hasn’t—jeopardized her life for them. Their women sit in on their decision-making councils, and I’ve heard the women make damn good decisions.”
“Like Judith,” Gavin said quietly.
“Yes!” Stephen said loudly. “But she has to fight you for every inch.”
“Of course,” Gavin answered firmly. “Women should—”
Stephen’s laugh stopped him. “Somewhere along the way I stopped thinking ‘women should.’ ”
“Tell me more about Scotland,” Gavin said, wanting to change the subject.
Stephen sat down again, returned to the food. His voice sounded far away. “It’s a beautiful place.”
“I heard it does little but rain.”
Stephen waved his hand. “What’s a little rain to a Scot?”