She knew he understood what she meant. Perhaps he was lying to her, perhaps tomorrow he’d again be her enemy, but right now he wasn’t.
“There were never days like this when my brother was alive,” she began, and when she started she couldn’t stop. Although she’d fought Miles at every opportunity, she now knew that in truth she’d never been in any real danger—not the danger she’d experienced for most of her life. In the last few weeks she’d seen courtesy; she’d seen love between Bronwyn and Stephen, Miles and his son—and love that asked very little in return was something she’d not seen in her lifetime.
Instead of telling a horror tale of all the atrocities Edmund had committed, she talked of the way she and her two other brothers had bound themselves together. Roger had not been very old when his parents died and he’d been turned over to the rule of his treacherous brother. He’d done all he could to save his younger siblings but at the same time he wanted to live his own life. Every time that Roger slipped in his vigilance, Elizabeth was summoned from her convent and used in Edmund’s nasty games. Roger, in remorse and guilt over his lapse, would strike out and renew his vows to protect Brian and Elizabeth, but always, Edmund’s slimy ways would undermine Roger’s good intentions.
“He’s never had anyone but us,” Elizabeth said. “Roger is twenty-seven but he’s never been in love, never even had the time to while away a summer afternoon. He was old by the time he was twelve.”
“And what of you?” Miles asked. “Didn’t you consider that you deserved some time for laughter?”
“Laughter.” She smiled, snuggling against him. “I don’t think I remember any laughter in my life until a certain young man rolled down a hill with me.”
“Kit is a delightful child,” Miles said with pride.
“Kit, ha! It was someone larger who, even as he rolled, protected his fine sword.”
“Noticed that, did you?” he said softly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
For a moment they were silent, with Elizabeth looking at him in puzzled silence. “You are not a kidnapper,” she said at last. “I have seen you with men and with women and if you are nothing else in life, you are kind to women. So why do you not release me? Is it because, as you said, I have so many…problems?” She said the last stiffly.
He did not take her question lightly and it was a while before he answered. “All my life I’ve seemed to enjoy the company of women. I like nothing better than to lie about with a beautiful woman in my arms. My brothers seemed to think this made me less of a man but I don’t guess one can change how one is. As for you, Elizabeth, I saw something I’d never seen before—a man’s hatred and anger. My sister-in-law Judith could probably organize all of England, yet she needs my brother’s strength and love. Bronwyn loves people and could make anyone do her bidding, but she’s unsure of herself and needs Stephen’s stubborn belief in himself to back her.”
He paused. “But you, Elizabeth, are different. You could probably exist alone and you wouldn’t even know there was more to life.”
“Then why…” she began. “Why hold someone like me prisoner? Surely some soft, docile woman would be more to your liking.”
He smiled at the insult in her tone. “Passion, Elizabeth. I think you are surely the most passionate human on earth. You hate violently and I am sure you will love just as violently.”
She tried to move away but he pinned her to the ground, his face near hers. “You’ll love only once in your life,” he said. “You’ll take your time in giving your love but once it is given, no power on earth—or hell—will break that love.”
She lay still under him, gazing up into those deep gray orbs that burned into her.
“I want to be that man,” he said softly. “I want more than your body, Elizabeth Chatworth. I want your love, your mind, your soul.”
When he bent to kiss her, she turned her head away. “You don’t ask much, do you, Montgomery? You’ve had more than I’ve given any other man—but I don’t think I have more to give. My soul belongs to God, my mind to myself and my love goes to my family.”
He rolled away from her and began to dress. “You asked me why I keep you prisoner and I’ve told you. Now we’ll return to the MacGregor’s and you will meet his men. The MacGregor is angered over your taking a knife to him and you will apologize.”
She did not like his attitude. “He is a friend to the MacArrans who are related to my enemies, the Montgomerys”—she smiled sweetly—“therefore I had every right to try and protect myself.”
“True,” he agreed, handing her her clothes, “but if the MacGregor isn’t appeased, it could cause problems between the clans.”
She began to dress sullenly. “I don’t like this,” she muttered. “And I’ll not enter a hall of strange men without a weapon.”
“Elizabeth,” Miles said patiently. “You cannot wield an ax at every gathering of men you enter. Besides, these Scots have some beautiful women of their own. Perhaps they won’t be so enraptured with your charms that they’re driven to insane acts of lust.”
“I didn’t mean that!” she snapped, turning away from him. “Must you laugh at…?”
He put his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t mean to laugh at you, but you have to begin to realize what is normal and what isn’t. I’ll be there to protect you.”
“And who will protect me from you?”
At that, his eyes lit and he ran his hand down the side of her breast. “You will be pleased to know that no one will protect you from me.”
She pulled away from him and finished dressing.
What Miles had planned for Elizabeth was, to her, sheer torture. He clamped his fingers down on her elbow until pain shot up her arm, and he forced her to shake hands with over a hundred of the MacGregor men. When she finished, she collapsed in a chair against the wall and shakily drank the wine Miles handed her. When he complimented her as if she were a dog that’d performed a trick correctly, she sneered at him, which made him kiss her fingers and laugh.
“It will get easier,” he said confidently.