Her hands were shaking on her buttons. She’d never undressed before any man except Stephen. She blinked back tears. Stephen would never love her again if another man took her. He was already so jealous that he mistrusted her every action. How would he be after Roger Chatworth got through with her?
She stood, unfastened her belt and her skirt, and let them slide to the floor. And how would she react to Roger’s touch? Stephen had only to look at her and she fairly attacked him. His merest touch would set her to trembling with passion. Would Roger be able to do the same?
“Hurry up!” Roger commanded. “I’ve been waiting months for this.”
Bronwyn closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath as she let the shirt fall to the floor. She kept her chin high and her shoulders back as Roger took a candle and came toward her.
He stared at her, his eyes roaming over her satin skin, her high, proud breasts. He touched her hip gently, ran his finger along the soft pad of flesh around her navel. “Beautiful,” he whispered. “Montgomery was right to fight for you.”
A sudden knock on the door made them both jump. “Quiet!” Roger commanded as he glanced at the door.
“Roger,” came the voice through the door, a young man’s voice. “Are you awake?”
“Get in the bed!” Roger said under his breath. “Stay under the covers and don’t make a sound. Do I need to threaten you?”
Bronwyn obeyed him quickly, glad for any excuse to hide her nude body from his sight. She buried herself under the furs and coverlets while Roger hastily drew the curtains around the bed.
“Brian, what is it?” Roger asked in a completely different, gentle voice as he opened the door. “Did you have another bad dream?”
Bronwyn moved silently so she could see through the curtains. Roger lit several candles on a table by the bed. He stepped aside, and she could see the young man who entered.
Brian was probably twenty years old, but his slight build made him appear to be little more than a boy. He walked with a hesitant step, as if one leg were stiff but he’d learned to walk with only a slight limp. He was obviously Roger’s brother, a younger, weaker, more delicate version of his strong, healthy older brother.
“You should be in bed,” Roger said in a kind voice, a voice Bronwyn had never heard from him before. Roger’s love for this boy was apparent in every word he spoke.
Brian eased himself into a chair. “I was waiting for you to return. I couldn’t even find out where you went. Alice said…” He stopped.
“Did she upset you?” Roger asked earnestly. “If she did—”
“No, of course not,” Brian said. “Alice is an unhappy woman. She is miserable over Edmund’s death.”
“Yes, I’m sure she is,” Roger said sarcastically. He changed the subject. “I visited my other estates to see that the serfs were not robbing us blind.”
“Roger, who is the woman who keeps crying?”
Roger’s head shot up. “I…I don’t know what you mean. There isn’t any woman crying.”
“For three nights now I’ve heard someone crying. Even during the day I catch just a bit of the sound.”
Roger smiled. “Perhaps the house has a ghost. Or maybe Edmund—” He stopped abruptly.
“I know what you mean,” Brian said flatly. “I know more about our elder brother than you think. You were going to say that perhaps the crying is the ghost of one of Edmund’s women. Maybe it was the one who killed herself on the night Edmund was murdered.”
“Brian! How do you hear of these things? It’s late and you ought to be in bed.”
Brian sighed, then allowed Roger to help him out of the chair. “I think I will go to bed. Will I see you in the morning? Alice is so much better when you’re here, and I miss Elizabeth already. Christmas is much too short.”
“Yes, of course, I’ll be here. Good night, little brother. Sleep well.” He stood for a moment after the door closed.
Bronwyn didn’t move as she watched Roger. Roger may be a liar, he might attack a man’s back, but he loved his younger brother.
Roger turned and threw the bed curtains aside. “Did you hope I’d forgotten you?” His voice was cold again.
She held the bedclothes to her neck and backed toward the far edge of the bed. “Who is Elizabeth?”
Roger gave her a smirking look. “Elizabeth is my sister. Now come here.”
“Is she older or younger than Brian?” She was talking rapidly.