“Damn Chatworth!” Joan said. “Raine’s pride is hurt. You stayed beside some other man instead of your husband. Above all else, men expect blind loyalty.”
“I am loyal, it is—”
She cut herself off when a breathless Jocelin burst into the tent unannounced.
“You should come,” he said to Alyx. “Maybe you can prevent a death.”
“Whose?” Alyx asked, standing immediately and following Joss before he could answer.
“Brian Chatworth has just begged entrance into the camp. Raine is donning armor to meet him.”
“But Judith said Brian loved Mary, that Brian brought her body back to them.”
“Maybe it’s the name Chatworth. That alone would send Raine into a rage.”
Jocelin pulled Alyx onto a horse and set out quickly, dodging tree branches as they rode. When at last they stopped, the sight ahead of them surprised Alyx. In a small clearing, lit by the early morning sun, stood a young man. He was small, slight, even delicate. Yet he had the facial features of Roger Chatworth. Had Alyx seen him elsewhere she would have guessed this near boy was Roger’s son.
Alyx slid off the horse before Joss could dismount. “May I welcome you?” she said, walking toward the boy. “I am Alyxandria Montgomery, Lord Raine’s wife. I have met your brother.”
Brian pulled himself to his full height. “I have no brother,” he said in a surprisingly masculine voice. “I come to join Lord Raine in his fight to avenge his sister’s death.”
“Oh, my,” Alyx said, astonished. “I had hoped you offered some solution to this feud.”
“We’re all wishing that,” came a voice from above Alyx’s head.
She looked up but could see no one. “Who are? You’re not one of Raine’s guards.”
“Oh, but I am, and are you truly Raine’s wife?”
Alyx listened to the voice, sure she’d never heard it before, yet something about it was familiar. It was definitely a voice full of humor. She glanced at Brian and Jocelin. Brian’s face was immobile, too hard for one so young, while Joss gave a shrug.
Her attention was suddenly given to the appearance of Raine riding his great heavy war horse, wearing full armor, covered from head to foot in steel.
Dismounting, he walked toward Brian Chaworth, and the young man did not flinch. One blow from Raine’s hand would have been enough to send him sprawling. “Do you plan to hide behind my wife’s skirts?” Raine said in a low voice. “She is known to protect Chatworths.”
Alyx put herself between Brian and Raine. “And do you make war on children?” she yelled up at him. “Can’t you listen to him? Or are you too pig-headed to give the boy a chance?”
Raine never said a word to Alyx because laughter coming from the trees made him halt.
Alyx watched, openmouthed, as a man dropped to the ground. He was wearing the most extraordinary clothes she had ever seen: a big-sleeved shirt, a soft yellow color, was covered by a bright blue tartan blanket wrapped about his waist in such a way that it formed a skirt and then was tossed over one shoulder, a heavy belt holding it in place. His knees were bare, his calves encased in heavy wool socks, thick shoes on his feet.
“Stephen,” Raine breathed, his eyes softening.
“Aye, ’tis me,” this oddly dressed man said. He was tall and slim with dark blond hair, a very handsome man. “I’ve brought this boy to you. He wants to share your exile and would like to learn from you.”
“He’s a Chatworth,” Raine said, his eyes hardening again.
“Yes, he’s a Chatworth,” Alyx said. “And you’ll not forgive him, will you? No doubt you’ll hate this man for daring to bring him here. Go,” she said to Stephen. “It’s no use trying to reason with him. He has a piece of wood for a brain.”
To her surprise, Stephen began to laugh, a great, deep, joyful laugh.
“Oh, Raine,” he cried, slapping Raine on his armored shoulder, making the steel rattle. “How Gavin and I have prayed for this time. So you’ve fallen head over heels for a woman who fights you at every step? Gavin had written us what a sweet, helpful, congenial little thing our new sister was.” He turned to Alyx. “Judith said you had a strong voice, but a moment ago you nearly knocked me from the tree.”
“You are Stephen Montgomery,” Alyx said in wonder. He did look a bit like Gavin, but besides his clothing, his accent was strange.
“MacArran,” Stephen corrected, smiling at her. “I am married to the MacArran and my name is hers. Now do I get a kiss or would you rather fight with my brother?”
“Oh, a kiss!” Alyx said so enthusiastically that Stephen laughed again before drawing her into his arms. His kiss was less than brotherly. “Can you help me talk some sense into him?” she whispered. “He is obsessed with the Chatworths.”