The man dismounted and went to her side. “I can see that,” he said in a low voice, his lips close to her ear.
Bronwyn still paid little attention to the man. All she could think of was her child. Morag would love another baby to care for, she was thinking as the man’s lips touched her ear. The touch brought her out of her reverie.
She jumped away from him. “How dare you,” she gasped. No man except Stephen had ever touched her unless she allowed him.
She gave a quick look about her and realized how far she was from the castle.
Richard misinterpreted her look. “There’s no need to worry. We’re quite alone, and Lord Gavin has just returned from Scotland, so everyone is busy at the moment. We have time.”
She backed away from him. A thousand thoughts flew through her mind. Stephen’s warnings screamed at her. And worry for her baby occupied most of her mind. Please don’t let my child be hurt!
“There’s no reason to fear me,” Richard said in a honey-coated voice. “We could have fun, you and I.”
Bronwyn straightened her shoulders. “I am Bronwyn MacArran, and you will return to the castle.”
“MacArran!” he laughed. “The men said you were an independent woman, but they didn’t say you’d go so far as to disown your husband.”
“You are insulting. Now go and leave me alone.”
Richard’s smile left his face. “You think I’m going to leave you after the way you’ve been teasing me? You chose me to accompany you this morning. I’ll wager you were sorry when we had no time to be alone.”
She was aghast. “Is that what you thought? That I wanted to be alone with you?”
He touched her hair, his little finger grazing her breast.
Her eyes opened wide, then she looked for Rab. The dog was always with her.
“I took the precaution of locking your dog in a granary,” Richard smiled. “Now, come and stop playing these games. You know you want me as much as I want you.” He grabbed Bronwyn, his hand twisting in her hair. He ground his lips against hers.
Bronwyn felt waves of anger shoot through her. She relaxed in his arms, leaned backward, and as he bent forward to press against her, she brought her knee up.
Richard groaned and released her abruptly.
Bronwyn struggled to keep from falling, then tripped on the heavy velvet skirt. She cursed as she gathered handfuls of the fabric and began to run. But no matter how much she held, more fabric swirled about her legs and hindered her. She tripped once again, then slung the velvet over her arm. The third time she tripped, Richard was upon her. He grabbed her ankle, and she fell forward, face down into the cold, hard earth. She gasped for air.
Richard ran his hand up her legs. “Now, my fiery Scotswoman, we’ll see if that fire can be put to use.”
Bronwyn tried to kick out at him, but he held her to the ground. He grabbed her dress and tore it, exposing the skin of her back to the cold winter air.
“Now,” he said as he placed his lips to the nape of her neck.
The next moment Richard screamed as a mass of gray fur and sharp teeth attacked him. Bronwyn rolled away as Richard tried to stand and fight Rab.
An arm pulled her up. Miles drew her to him, held her with one arm, his drawn sword in the other. “Call your dog off him,” Miles said quietly.
Bronwyn’s voice was shaking. “Rab!” she commanded.
The dog reluctantly left off his attack and went to her side.
Richard tried to stand. There was blood on his arm and his thigh. His clothes were torn in several places. “The damned dog attacked me for no reason!” he began. “Lady Bronwyn fell, and I stopped to help her.”
Miles stepped away from his sister-in-law. His eyes were as hard as steel. “You do not touch the Montgomery women,” he said in a deadly voice.
“She came at me!” the man said. “She asked—”
They were the last words he ever spoke. Miles’s sword went straight through Richard’s heart. Miles barely glanced at the dead man, one of his own men. He turned to Bronwyn and seemed to sense what she felt—helpless and violated.
He put his arms around her gently and drew her to him. “You’re safe now,” he said quietly. “No one else will try to harm you.”