Suddenly her body began to tremble, and Miles drew her closer. “He said I had encouraged him,” she whispered.
“Hush,” Miles said. “I’ve been watching him. He didn’t understand your Scots ways.”
Bronwyn pulled away to look at him. “That’s what Stephen said. He warned me of talking to the men. He said the Englishmen didn’t understand when I talked to them.”
Miles smoothed the hair from her forehead. “There’s a formality between an English lady and her husband’s men that is not in your culture. Now let’s return. I’m sure someone will have seen me leave following your dog.”
She glanced at the dead man beside them. “He locked Rab away and I didn’t even notice. I was—” She couldn’t tell anyone about the baby before she told Stephen.
“I heard the dog yelping, and when I released him, he went crazy, barking at me, sniffing the earth.” He looked with admiration at the big dog. “He knew you were in trouble.”
She knelt and rubbed her face in Rab’s rough coat.
They both turned at the sound of horses. Gavin and Stephen rode toward them quickly. Stephen slid from the saddle before the horse came to a full stop. “What happened here?” he demanded.
“The man tried to attack Bronwyn,” Miles said.
Stephen glared at his wife, his eyes taking in the scraped place on her cheek, her torn gown. “I told you,” he said through clenched teeth. “You wouldn’t listen to me.”
“Stephen,” Gavin said, his hand on his brother’s arm. “Now’s not the time.”
“Not the time!” Stephen exploded at his wife. “Not an hour ago you listed all my faults. Did you find someone else with fewer faults? Did you encourage him on purpose?”
Before anyone else could speak, Stephen turned away and mounted his horse. Bronwyn, Miles, and Gavin watched helplessly.
“He should be whipped for that!” Miles sneered.
“Quiet!” Gavin commanded. He turned to Bronwyn. “He’s upset and confused. You have to forgive him.”
“He’s jealous!” Bronwyn whispered fiercely. “That empty jealousy of his changes him into a madman.” She felt weak and defeated. He cared nothing for her but only for his own jealousy.
Gavin put his arm around her protectively. “Come home and let Judith get you something to drink. She makes a delicious apple drink.”
Bronwyn nodded numbly and allowed herself to be put onto Miles’s horse.
Chapter Sixteen
THE DRINK JUDITH GAVE BRONWYN PUT HER TO SLEEP almost instantly. She’d had too much in one day—the rescue of the child and the near rape. She dreamed Of being lost and of searching for Stephen, but he wasn’t there.
She woke suddenly, her body coated in sweat, and reached for him. The bed was empty. She sat up and looked about the dimly lit room, searching for him.
She felt unbearably lonely. Why did she quarrel with Stephen all the time? When Miles had told her the Scots’ ways were different, she didn’t get angry. It was only when Stephen said the same thing that she flew into a rage.
She threw the covers back and grabbed a robe Judith had lent her. She must find Stephen and tell him that she’d been wrong. She must tell him about the child and ask that he forgive her for her foul mood.
Rab followed her as she went to a chest and withdrew her plaid. The dog was afraid to let her out of his sight.
She dressed quickly and left her room. The house was silent and dark as she made her way downstairs. A single fat candle shown from the half-open winter parlor door. The fire was nearly dead.
She pushed the door open as she heard a woman giggle. Bronwyn halted as she realized she’d probably interrupted Raine or Miles with one of the housemaids. She turned to go as the woman’s words stopped her.
“Oh, Stephen,” the woman giggled. “I’ve missed you so much. No man has hands like yours.”
Bronwyn heard the deep rumble of a familiar laugh.
She was not a timid woman to run crying from the room. She’d had one insult too many for the day. She pushed the heavy door open with a vicious shove and marched to the fireplace.
Stephen sat in a large chair, fully clothed, a plump young girl, bared from the waist up, sprawled across his lap. He disinterestedly ha