Hugh frowned. “Why, no. He does own some land somewhere, I believe, and it has an old tower on it but not a house. But surely your own estates…”
Again she sighed. “But they’re in Scotland.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I understand. It’s a cold, wet country, isn’t it? No wonder you want to live here Well, perhaps Stephen—” He broke off.
She smiled to herself. It was just as she thought. Hugh wasn’t really interested in her, or at least he wouldn’t actually dishonor his friend; he was merely bored and wanted to see Stephen fume. He mentioned his friend too often to be a true enemy. Stephen thought she could be enticed into any attractive man’s bed, and Hugh merely used her as a means to antagonize his friend. Neither man considered her wants or thoughts.
She smiled more broadly as she began to wonder what would happen if she upset their plans somewhat. What would Sir Hugh say if she told him she was discontent with Stephen and that she would love to stay in England with a fine, handsome man like Hugh?
As they approached the pavilion she looked skyward. “I think the sun is about to shine. Perhaps we could move our chairs from under the canopy.”
Sir Hugh smiled at her suggestion, then ordered the chairs brought forth.
Bronwyn ordered them set closer together, then smiled at Hugh’s frown. She wasted no time once they were seated. Musicians played a sweet love song, but she never looked at them; she had eyes only for Hugh “You have no wife, my lord?” she asked quietly.
“No…not as yet. I have not been as fortunate as my friend Stephen.”
“Is he really your friend? Could you possibly be my friend also?”
Hugh looked deeply into her eyes, fearing that he’d lose himself in them. Stephen was indeed fortunate. “Of course, you are my friend,” he said in a fatherly manner.
She sighed, moistened her lips and parted them. “I can tell you are a sensitive, intelligent man. I wish I had a husband such as you.” She smiled becomingly at the way his jaw dropped. “You must know about my marriage. I had no choice in the matter. I tried to choose someone else but…Lord Stephen.”
Hugh stiffened his back. “I heard that Stephen had to fight for you, and he did a damn good job of it too. I heard that Chatworth came at his back.”
“Oh, yes, Stephen is a good fighter, but he isn’t now can I say it? He doesn’t content me.”
Hugh’s eyes widened. “Are you saying that Stephen Montgomery is lacking in some way? Let me tell you that we’ve been friends all our lives. And as for his women!” He was starting to get angry now. “When we were in Scotland together, Stephen was half in love with a little whore, and he was blind to the fact that she was sleeping with half the troops. I paid her t
o go to bed with me at a time when I knew he’d see us together.”
“Is that why he is so angry with you?” she asked forgetting for a moment to use her honey-coated voice
“He never would have believed me if I’d told him what she was. He couldn’t see past her dimples.”
Bronwyn drew back as she digested this news. So. Stephen was using her in a scheme to repay a man for taking one of his women. A woman he was half in love with! She felt a sharp pain through her breast, and burning tears gathered behind her eyes. He hadn’t wanted to marry her because he’d been in love with a dimpled whore.
“Lady Bronwyn, are you all right?”
She touched her eye with her knuckle. “Something in my eye, I think.”
“Here, let me see.” He took her face in his large, strong hands, and Bronwyn looked up at him.
She knew Stephen was watching, and it crossed her mind to wonder if he was thinking of the woman he had wanted.
“I see nothing,” Sir Hugh said, his hands never leaving her face. “You are an incredibly beautiful woman,” he whispered. “Stephen is—”
She twisted away from him. “I don’t want to hear that name again,” she said angrily. “Today I’m free of him, and I want to remain so. Perhaps the musicians could spare some room for us and we could dance. I could show you some Scottish dances.”
He gave a nervous look upward toward his house, then allowed himself to be pulled toward the wooden platform.
Sir Hugh didn’t know when he’d been so entertained. He wasn’t used to seeing a woman’s hair flowing freely about her lithe body. Bronwyn’s eyes flashed and laughed as he awkwardly tried to copy her intricate steps. The cold day seemed to grow warmer, and he forgot about her husband watching from above.
“Bronwyn,” he laughed, having dropped the formal “Lady” an hour before, “I have to stop! I fear I have a stitch in my side.”
She laughed at him. “You’d no’ make a good Scotsman if you can stand so little exercise.”
He took her arm. “I haven’t worked so hard since I spent a week in training with the Montgomery brothers.”