“Gavin and I are returning to Larenston to get Chris’s body.”
“Tam will have buried him by now.”
He nodded. “I know, but I feel we owe it to Chris’s family. They don’t even know yet that he’s dead. It will help some if he can be buried in his own land.”
She nodded in agreement. “Chris didn’t like Scotland,” she said solemnly.
He ran his knuckles along her cheek. “It’s the first time we’ve been apart since we were married. I’d like to think—” He stopped and dropped his hand.
“Stephen—” she began.
Suddenly he took her into his arms and held her close to him. “I wish we could go back to the time we spent with Kirsty and Donald. You seemed happy there.”
She clung to him. In spite of the danger they’d been in, she too remembered the time as happy.
“You’ve come to mean so much to me,” he whispered. “I hate to leave when you’re so…cold to me.”
When she laughed, he pushed her away, frowning. “Do I amuse you?” he asked angrily.
“I was thinking that I feel far from cold right now. Tell me, how long do you have before you leave?”
“Minutes,” he said in such a tone of regret that she laughed again.
“And how long before you return?”
He put his fingers under her chin. “Three long, long days, at least. Knowing Gavin, we’ll ride hard.” He smiled. “We won’t stop every few hours as you and I did.”
She slipped her arms up around his neck. “You will not forget me while you are gone?” she whispered, her lips against his.
“As easily as I could forget a thunderstorm,” he said evenly, chuckling when she tried to move away. “Come here, wench,” he commanded.
His mouth took possession of hers in such a way that she forgot all thoughts of honor and respect. She remembered only their romps on the Highlands moors. His hand moved her head to slant against his mouth, and she opened her lips under his, drinking in the sweetness of the tip of his tongue. She pressed her body closer to his and tightened her arms.
“Stephen—” she began.
He put two fingers on her lips. “We have much to talk of when I return. Are you willing?”
She smiled happily. “Yes, I am very willing.”
He kissed her once again, with longing and promises of what was to come. When he turned away, it was with obvious reluctance.
It was at night that Bronwyn realized how much she missed Stephen. The big bed in the lovely tiled bedchamber seemed cold and unbearable. She thought of Stephen riding back into Scotland without so much as a night’s rest. She cursed herself for not insisting she’d return with him.
The more she thought, the more restless she became. She tossed the covers aside and walked quickly across the cold floor to a chest in the corner. She withdrew her Highlands clothes, and within minutes she was fastening her plaid to her shoulder. She thought perhaps a walk in the cold courtyard below would help her sleep.
As soon as she was outside, the clatter of horses’ hoofs on the bricked yard echoed against the buildings. “Stephen!” she gasped and began to run forward. She knew that only family would be allowed to enter at night.
“Lady Mary,” someone said quietly. “It’s good to see you again. Was your trip pleasant?”
“As good as I could wish, James,” came a gentle, soft voice.
“Shall I fetch Lady Judith?”
“No, don’t bother her. She needs her rest. I can find my own way.”
Bronwyn stood in the shadows and watched as one of the castle retainers helped Lady Mary dismount. She remembered how Stephen had compared his sister to the Madonna, said she was the peacemaker and that she lived in a convent near the Montgomery estates.
“We expected you earlier,” James said. “I hope nothing was wrong.”