It was hours later when Bronwyn was dressed and groome
d to Judith’s satisfaction. Judith said she’d learned many tricks while she was at court, a place she never cared to visit again. She liked Bronwyn’s Scots way of leaving her hair free so much that she discarded her own hood and let her rich auburn hair flow down her back. Judith wore a gown of violet satin, the sleeves and hem trimmed in dark brown mink. A gold belt set with purple amethysts was about her waist.
Bronwyn smoothed the velvet over her hips. The dress was heavy and confining, but today she liked it. The low, square neckline showed her full breasts to advantage. The puffed sleeves were slashed to pull through tissue-thin cloth of gold. She straightened her shoulders and went down the stairs to meet her brothers-in-law.
The four men stood side by side in front of the stone fireplace in the winter parlor, and both Bronwyn and Judith paused for a moment to look at them with pride.
Stephen had trimmed his long hair and discarded his Scots clothes, and Bronwyn felt a sudden pang of loss for the Highlander he’d been. He wore a coat of dark blue velvet, collared with rich sable. His heavy, muscular legs were encased in dark blue wool hose.
Gavin dressed in gray, his coat lined with gray squirrel fur. Raine wore black velvet, the collar embroidered with silver thread worked in an intricate Spanish design. Miles’s coat was of emerald-green velvet, the sleeves cut and slashed to reveal silver tissue beneath. There were pearls sewn onto his shirt sleeves.
Miles was the first to turn and see the women. He set his silver wine chalice on the mantelpiece and went forward. He stopped in front of Bronwyn, his eyes darkening almost to black—a hot black fire. He dropped to one knee before her. “I am honored,” he whispered in great reverence, his head bowed.
Bronwyn looked at the others in consternation.
Judith smiled with pride at her sister-in-law. “May I introduce Miles?”
Bronwyn held out her hand, and Miles took it, and kissed it lingeringly.
“You’ve made your point, Miles,” Stephen said sarcastically.
Gavin laughed and slapped Stephen on the shoulder so hard his wine sloshed onto his hand. “Now I have someone to help me with our baby brother,” Gavin said. “Lady Bronwyn, may I introduce myself more formally? I am Gavin Montgomery.”
Bronwyn took her hand from Miles’s grasp, and only reluctantly did her eyes leave him. There was something extraordinarily intriguing about the young man. She gave her hand to Gavin, then turned toward the other brother. “And you must be Raine. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”
“Any of it good?” Raine asked, taking her hand, smiling so his dimples were quite deep.
“Very little of it,” she answered honestly. “One of my men, Tam, a great oak of a man, was Stephen’s trainer in Scotland. For weeks on end I heard your name used as a cry to goad Stephen whenever he tried to get away from Tam’s rather strenuous demands.”
Raine laughed loudly. “It must have worked, for he beat me in a short wrestle this morning.” He eyed Stephen. “Though of course he has yet to accept my challenge to a longer match.”
Bronwyn widened her eyes and studied the massiveness of Raine’s wide shoulders and thick chest. “It seems to me that the first time would be the only necessary time to beat a man.”
Raine grabbed her by the shoulders and exuberantly kissed her cheek. “Stephen, you should keep this one,” he laughed.
“I am trying,” he said as he took her hand just before Miles reached for it again. “Dinner is laid, shall we go?” he asked, his eyes searching hers.
She smiled at him sweetly, as if they’d never had a quarrel. “Yes, please,” she said demurely.
It was while they sat at dinner, as course after course of food was brought, that Bronwyn realized how different these people were from the English people she’d met before. This laughing, happy family bore no resemblance to the men she’d met at Sir Thomas Crichton’s. Judith had gone to great expense and trouble to make her welcome. Stephen’s brothers accepted her, did not make sneering remarks because she was the laird of a clan.
Suddenly everything seemed to be spinning around and around. She’d grown up hating the MacGregors and the English. Now she was godmother to a MacGregor, and she found herself loving this warm, close English family. Yet the MacGregors had killed the MacArrans for centuries. The English had killed her father. How could she love people she should hate?
“Lady Bronwyn?” Gavin asked. “Is the wine too strong for you?”
“No,” she smiled. “Everything is very nearly perfect. And that, I’m afraid, is my problem.”
He studied her for a moment. “I want you to know that we’re your family too. If you need any of us at any time, we’ll be here.”
“Thank you,” she answered seriously. She knew he meant his words.
After dinner Judith took Bronwyn on a tour of the area inside the castle walls. There were two sections to the castle, the outer one where the castle retainers lived and worked, and the more protected inner circle for the family. Bronwyn listened and asked hundreds of questions about the incredibly efficient and well-organized castle complex. The acres of land inside the tall, thick walls were almost self-sustaining.
Stephen stopped them as they were speaking to the blacksmith and Judith was showing her a new forging technique.
“Bronwyn,” Stephen said, “may I speak to you?”
She knew he had something serious to say, so she followed him outside where they could be private.