“To—!” she began, but he put a finger to her lips.
“Yes, my angel”—his voice was heavy with sarcasm—“we are going to spend time with my brother and his wife. I want you to get to know my family.”
“I know more than enough about your family. They are—”
This time, Miles kissed her and, if she did not react to his touch, when she turned away she was silent.
They rode for many hours at a slow, steady pace. The many baggage mules behind them bearing furniture, clothing, food, armor, weapons, made their progress ponderous.
Elizabeth was given her own horse but a rope was tied to the saddle and attached to Miles’s horse. Twice he tried to make conversation but she refused to speak to him. Her mind was too busy thinking about, and trying not to think about, what Miles had told her about her brother.
For the last two years the only contact she’d had with her family was through Roger’s letters and snatches of gossip from traveling musicians. Of course the musicians were aware she was a Chatworth and so had said little either way about her family.
But the extensive Montgomery family was another matter. They were a favorite subject of songs and gossip. The oldest brother, Gavin, had jilted the beautiful Alice Valence and on the rebound she’d married Elizabeth’s brother Edmund. Elizabeth had begged Roger to stop the marriage, saying that the poor woman didn’t deserve to be shackled to the treacherous Edmund. Roger said there was nothing he could do to prevent the marriage. Only a few months later, Gavin Montgomery had married the magnificently wealthy Revedoune heiress, and after Edmund’s murder, the jealous heiress had tossed boiling oil on poor Alice Chatworth’s face. Elizabeth had written from the convent and begged Roger to care for her brother’s widow and Roger had quickly agreed.
Less than a year later, Roger had written that the Scottish heiress, Bronwyn MacArran, had pleaded to be allowed to marry Roger but Stephen Montgomery was forcing the poor woman to become his bride. Roger had challenged Stephen in an attempt to protect the MacArran woman, and during the fight, Montgomery had cleverly made it appear that Roger attacked his back. As a result, Roger was disgraced.
She wasn’t sure why Brian had left his home; Roger would never say. But she was sure it had to do with the Montgomerys. Brian was sensitive and gentle. Perhaps he could no longer stand all the horrors that had been done to his family because of the Montgomerys. But whatever made Brian leave had nothing to do with the lies she’d heard today. She doubted if Roger even knew the Montgomery men had a sister.
All during the long ride, she’d idly been tucking the torn shoulder of her dress inside the high neckline. When Miles called a halt to the procession, she was startled to see that it was growing dark. Her thoughts had kept her occupied for hours.
Before them was an inn, half timbered, old but prosperous-looking. The landlord stood outside, his big red face split by a welcoming grin.
Miles stood beside her. “Elizabeth”—he held up his arms for her—“do not embarrass yourself by refusing me,” he said, a twinkle in his eye as he glanced at her raised foot.
Elizabeth considered for a moment, then allowed him to help her from her horse, but she stepped away from his touch as soon as she was on the ground. Two of his men entered the inn first while Miles caught Elizabeth’s arm.
“I have something for you.” Watching her closely, he held out a lovely, intricately wrought gold brooch of a pelican, its beak tucked under its outstretched wing, standing on a band of diamonds.
Elizabeth’s eyes didn’t flicker. “I don’t want it.”
With a look of exasperation, Miles pinned the shoulder of her gown together. “Come inside, Elizabeth,” he said flatly.
Obviously, the innkeeper was expecting them, for the bustle of activity within was enormous. Elizabeth stood to one side as Miles conferred with Sir Guy while the landlord waited for their commands.
It was a large room set with tables and chairs, a big fireplace to one side. For the first time, Elizabeth really looked at Miles’s men. There were an even dozen of them and it seemed they gave remarkably little trouble. Now they walked about, opening doors, quietly checking for any hidden danger. Did Miles Montgomery have so many enemies he must always be wary—or was he just cautious?
A pretty young maid curtsied before Miles and he gave her his little half-smile. Elizabeth watched curiously as the maid blushed and preened under Miles’s gaze.
“Yes, my lord,” she said, smiling, bobbing up and down. “I hope ye like the meal I’ve cooked.”
“I will,” Miles said so matter-of-factly that it made his enjoyment seem a sure fact.
With another blush, the girl turned back to the kitchen.
“Are you hungry, Elizabeth?” Miles asked, turning back to her.
“Not for what you seem to inspire.” She nodded toward the maid’s retreating back.
“How I wish there were jealousy in those words. But I have patience,” he added with a smile and gave her a little push toward the table before she could answer.
Miles and she sat at a small table, apart from his men but in the same room. Dish after dish was brought to them but Elizabeth barely ate.
“You don’t seem to have a big appetite at best.”
“If you were held prisoner would you gorge yourself on your captor’s food?”
“I would probably not lose a moment in planning my captor’s death,” he answered honestly.