The woman bent her head. “Yes, oh, yes,” she whispered, then her head came up. “But we will make them pay, won’t we? We have Stephen’s wife and Gavin’s sister. Tell me, what do you plan for the two of them?”
Roger smiled. “Bronwyn is mine. If I can’t have the lands, I must make do with the woman herself. Mary is of course yours.”
The woman put up her hand. “She is poor sport for anyone. She’s terrified of everyone and everything. Perhaps I should send her home like this,” she said with hatred as she turned her face so Bronwyn could see her fully.
It was a combination of the sight of the woman’s hideously scarred cheek and the words about Mary that made Bronwyn gasp. Before she could move, Roger was at the door and had her by the arm. He pulled her into the room.
Bronwyn winced with pain as Roger’s fingers bit into her skin.
“So! This is the laird you captured,” the woman sneered.
Bronwyn stared at her. The once beautiful face was distorted on one side, long ridges of ugly scars drawing the eye down, the mouth up. It gave her an evil, sneering look.
“Look your fill!” the woman screeched. “You should see it, for you’ll help pay for what you’ve done.”
Roger released Bronwyn and grabbed the woman’s hands. “Sit down!” he commanded. “We have more to settle than your immediate hatreds.”
The woman sat down, but she continued to stare at Bronwyn.
“Where is Mary?” Bronwyn asked quietly. “If you release her, I will not try to escape again. You may do with me what you want.”
Roger laughed at her. “How very noble of you. But you have nothing to bargain with. You won’t be given a second chance to try to escape.”
“But what use can Mary be to you? She’s never hurt anyone in her life.”
“Do you call this nothing?” the woman screamed, her fingers running along her scars.
“Mary didn’t do that,” Bronwyn said with conviction. She was beginning to believe the scars showed the woman’s true nature.
“Quiet, both of you!” Roger said. He turned to Bronwyn. “This is my sister-in-law, Lady Alice Chatworth. Both of us have reason to hate the Montgomerys, and we have sworn an oath to destroy them.”
“Destroy!” Bronwyn gasped. “But Mary—”
Roger grabbed her arm. “Have you no concern for yourself?”
“I know what men like you want,” she spat. “Can’t you get a woman without lies and treachery?”
Roger drew his hand back to slap her, then stopped at Alice’s cackle. “That is what you went to Scotland for, isn’t it, Roger?” she laughed. “Why was it necessary to bring her back tied in a wagon?”
Roger looked from one woman to the other, then grabbed Bronwyn and pulled her from the room. He half dragged her up the stairs, paused in front of the bolted door, then pulled her farther down the hall. He pushed her onto the wide bed in the center of the rich room. Dark brown velvet hung from the bed canopy. Brown velvet draperies covered the window. Gold braid elegantly trimmed the brown.
“Undress!” he commanded.
Bronwyn smiled at him. “Never,” she said in a friendly way.
He returned her smile. “If you value Mary’s life, you will obey me. It will cost her one finger for every second you delay.”
Bronwyn gaped at him, then began to unfasten her brooch. Roger leaned against a high, carved chest and watched her with interest.
“Did you know I got drunk on your wedding night?” he asked. “No, of course you didn’t know. I’ll wager you never gave me a thought. I don’t like being used. You used me in some sort of game with Stephen Montgomery.”
She stopped, her hand on the buttons of her shirt. “I never used you. Had you won the fight, I woul
d have married you. I thought you were being honest when you told me you cared for my clan.”
He snorted in derision. “You’re stalling. I want to see what has cost me so much pain and dishonor.”
Bronwyn bit her lip on her words. She wanted to tell him he had brought his own dishonor.