“And where is my worthless brother?” Miles asked Bronwyn, who was quietly watching the scene before her.
“He is patroling the northern borders but I expect him to meet us before we reach Larenston.”
Miles took Elizabeth’s arm, tightened his grip when she tried to move away from him. “Bronwyn has a baby,” he said aloud. Under his breath, he whispered, “You’re safe. Stay close to me.”
Elizabeth gave him a withering look that said she didn’t feel he was safer than any other man, but she didn’t move from his side. The men who stood close to Bronwyn were wildly dressed, their knees bare, their hair down to their shoulders, great long wide swords at their belts.
Bronwyn felt there was more wrong than just Miles’s childish trick played on Elizabeth, but she had no idea what it was. Perhaps when they returned to Larenston she could find out what this tension in the air meant. “Shall we ride?”
Elizabeth stood still, not moving until Bronwyn’s men were in front of her. There was a long walk to where the horses were hidden and the men were a silent group. Sir Guy hobbled along slowly, leaning on a thick staff.
“I want to ride behind the men,” Elizabeth said to Miles, her jaw set.
He started to protest but stopped, murmured something to Bronwyn and at her nod, the Scotsmen and Sir Guy rode ahead, Kit settled with Tam.
“Elizabeth,” Miles began from atop the horse beside her. “Bronwyn’s men mean you no harm. There’s no reason to fear them.”
She glared at him. “Am I to take your word for their trustworthiness? You who have lied to me? You who are of a family that is at war with my family?”
Miles glanced heavenward for a moment. “Perhaps I was wrong to play the trick on you, but if I’d asked you to spend a few days frolicking in the forest with Kit and me, what would have been your answer?”
She looked away from him.
“Elizabeth, you must admit you enjoyed yourself. There, for a few hours, you weren’t afraid of men.”
“I am never afraid of men,” she snapped. “I have merely learned to be cautious.”
“Your caution overtakes your entire life,” he said sternly. “Look at us now, eating the dust of Bronwyn’s men because you fear that one of them will attack you if you don’t have him in your sight.”
“I have learned—” she began.
“You have learned only the bad part of life! Most men are not like Edmund Chatworth or Pagnell. While we’re here in Scotland you’re going to learn that some men can be trusted. No!” he said, his eyes locking with hers. “You are going to learn that I can be trusted.” With that he spurred his horse forward to ride beside Sir Guy, leaving Elizabeth alone.
Bronwyn glanced back at Elizabeth, then turned her horse to ride beside the blonde woman. They were a striking pair: Elizabeth with her delicate fair features; Bronwyn’s strong, sculptured features.
“A lovers’ quarrel?” Bronwyn asked, her eyes searching Elizabeth’s face.
“We are not lovers,” Elizabeth said coolly.
Bronwyn raised her eyebrows at that, thinking that it must be a first for Miles to spend any time with a woman and not possess her. “And how does a Chatworth come to ride with a Montgomery?” she asked in the same tone as Elizabeth had used with her.
Elizabeth gave Bronwyn a scathing look. “If you plan to pour out venom about my brother Roger, you should think twice.”
Bronwyn and Elizabeth faced each other across the horses and after a moment—in which many signals passed between them—Bronwyn gave a curt nod. “Ask your brother about his Scots relatives,” she said frigidly before reining her horse away, leaving Elizabeth to herself.
“And have you angered Bronwyn?” Miles asked when he once again rode beside her.
“Am I to listen to all manner of evilness against my own brother? That woman swore to marry Roger but went back on her word. And as a result—”
“As a result Roger Chatworth attacked my brother’s back,” Miles interrupted. He paused, leaned across her horse to take her hand in his. “Give us a chance, Elizabeth,” he said softly, his eyes meltingly imploring. “All I ask is that you give all of us time to show you that we can be trusted.”
Before Elizabeth could answer, the sound of thundering hooves came to them. With a glance up, she saw that every man had his claymore drawn, and before she could protest, Bronwyn’s Scots had encircled the two women. Miles moved his horse closer to Elizabeth.
“It’s that idiot husband of mine,” Bronwyn said, and her pleased tone was completely at odds with her words.
Five men came to a halt before them, the leader a tall man with dark blond hair that came to his shoulders, a good-looking man who was obviously enjoying the sparks his wife was shooting at him.
“You’re getting old, Tam,” the blond man said lazily, leaning on the front of his saddle.