“I’m not cold,” she said honestly as she kept herself from smiling at Hugh’s blue nose. “I merely wish to…” She looked down at her hands in confusion.
“Of course!” he said in embarrassment. “I will send a guard—”
“No! I have Rab, and I’m sure I can find my way.”
“Your wish is my command,” he smiled, then kissed her hand again.
Bronwyn had to control herself from running inside the house. She wanted to do nothing to make Hugh suspicious. Once inside, though, she knew the need to hurry. “Rab,” she commanded, “find Stephen.”
Rab raced up the stairs in a spurt of joy. All morning he’d been straining against Bronwyn’s commands. The dog stopped before a door she suspected was Hugh’s. He sniffed and danced about until he took off up some stairs, Bronwyn lifting her heavy skirts and running after him.
At the top of the third flight of stairs was a heavy oak door, its window set with iron bars. Rab jumped up, his forefeet at the window. He barked twice in recognition.
“Rab!” came Stephen’s voice.
“Get down!” Bronwyn commanded. “Stephen, are you all right? Why are you being held prisoner?” She held her hand out to him, grabbed his through the bars.
He took her hand in both of his, stared at her. “Is this the hand you’ve let Hugh kiss so often?” he asked coldly.
“This is no time for one of your jealousy attacks. Why are you being held prisoner? And what is that absurd celebration about?”
“Absurd?” Stephen sputtered, tossing her hand back through the bars. “You didn’t look like you weren’t enjoying yourself. Tell me, do you find Hugh attractive? A lot of women do.”
She stared at him, patted Rab who was nervous because his master was being held captive. Her mind was racing. “This isn’t serious at all, is it?” she asked quietly. “This is some sort of game between you and your friend.”
“It’s not a game when my wife is involved,” he said fiercely.
“Damn you, Stephen Montgomery!” she hissed. “I told you not to come here. No, you think you’re so superior. Now I want to know what’s going on and how to get you out of here, though I have no idea why I want you out.”
Stephen narrowed his eyes at her. “If you give in to Hugh and let him win, I’ll break your neck.”
She was beginning to understand. “Do you mean that I am being used in some sort of wager? What is he supposed to win?”
When Stephen didn’t speak, she answered for him. “I think I can guess. Hugh thinks he can woo me to his bed, and you believe him. Did it ever enter that swollen, vain, pea brain of yours that I might have some say in this? Do you think I am so mindless that any man who smiles at me and kisses my hand can have me in his bed? You should know I’d take a knife to him at the least. Rab growls every time Hugh touches me.”
“Which seems to be often from what I can see.”
Bronwyn noticed the window in the far side of the cell. So that’s why Hugh refused to turn the pavilion. He wanted Stephen to be able to see them together. She looked at Stephen’s cold, angry face, and she began to get angry too. Those two men were using her in some childish prank that was more suited to ten-year-olds. Hugh had said he could win Bronwyn to his bed, and Stephen obviously thought so little of her morals and integrity that he believed she could be won by any man who set himself to the task. And Hugh! He insulted her, treated her as if she were stupid, yet had every confidence that she’d succumb to his charms.
“Damn both of you!” she whispered before turning away.
“Bronwyn! Come back here!” Stephen commanded. “Tell Hugh you know of the plot and get the key from him.”
She looked back at him and gave him her sweetest smile. “And miss the entertainment Sir Hugh has planned for me?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows. She started down the stairs, her mouth set against the string of curses Stephen yelled after her. “Damn the both of them,” she repeated to herself.
Chapter Thirteen
BRONWYN WAS STILL FUMING WHEN SHE REACHED THE foot of the stairs. Sir Hugh waited for her, an impatient look on his face. He looked as if he might chastise her for tarrying too long. Her first impulse was to lecture him about what he was trying to do, but the thought vanished as quickly as it came. Englishmen! she thought. When she’d first met Stephen, he knew there was no way but the English way. He laughed at her when she asked him to wear the Scots dress instead of the heavy English armor. Now she doubted if she could get him into one of Sir Hugh’s heavy, padded jackets. But Stephen had had to go through a battle before he was willing to change.
Perhaps she could wage her own battle, and both or these Englishmen could learn something that every Scotsman knew—that women were quite capable of thinking on their own.
“I was beginning to worry about you,” Sir Hugh said, extending his hand.
Bronwyn widened her eyes innocently. “I hope you don’t mind but I was looking about your house. It is magnificent! Tell me, is all this yours?”
Sir Hugh took her arm and tucked it under his. His chest expanded visibly. “All of it and about seven hundred acres. Of course, I have another estate in the south.”
She sighed heavily. “Stephen,” she began shyly, “Stephen doesn’t have a place such as this, does he?”