In the Warrior’s Bed by Mary Wine

mother had followed her husband before a year passed. They had loved each other so strongly that death was not going to separate them.
    He refused to believe that he and Bronwyn couldn’t work out a decent marriage. His brother had married an English woman and managed to find love. Besides, Druce was right—his pride was stung. The sort of annoying pain that would never dull unless he did something about it. McQuade had called him a defiler of innocent maids so it would serve the man right if he did take Bronwyn to his bed.
    It was no more than the greedy, scheming laird deserved for his words. As for Bronwyn…she would adjust. His pride demanded action and Cullen intended to see the matter settled in his favor. The vicious gossip would transform overnight into words of praise when he stole Bronwyn and married her. If he didn’t, finding a good match would become much harder with his own reputation painted black by McQuade’s lies. No decent family would take him for a son-in-law because they’d think he was a marauder and defiler of any lass he came upon.
    As he’d come across Bronwyn…

Chapter Four
    L ocked away.
    Bronwyn felt her mouth go dry as she considered the men watching her. It was so strange the way she noticed them. It had never been a burning need of hers to roam or escape her kin, but seeing the burly retainers set to keep her inside her father’s town home, she missed the choice keenly.
    With a sigh she walked around the lower dining room. She was restless, so much so it was almost anxiety. There was no cause for her feelings but she could not cast them aside. Sleep felt like a torment best avoided as long as possible but she retreated to her tiny room to escape her brothers.
    Their stares reminded her of hungry rodents.
    But the room was too small to move around in. She could not even make eight paces before running into the wall and having to turn around. The shutter was open to allow fresh air into the house during the day. The fires used at night to warm the larger sleeping chambers left a thick haze of smoke in the hallways that the staff had to clear out each morning. Every shutter was opened to help the breeze sweep the house.
    A large splash from somewhere below her window drew her attention. Standing up onto her toes she peered down at the back of the house. Water glittered in the torch light. Two iron basket torches were set on either side of the kitchen door. Instead of a step, there was a ramp that led to the back door. It was more practical allowing for wheelbarrows to deliver heavy casks. The ramp also made it simple to cast used bath water out of the kitchen to flow down the gutter. There was a thick wall surrounding the back door to add security to the house. A wooden gate set into it had a sturdy wooden bar braced across it. The flicker from the torches shimmered off the bell hanging on the gate. There would be a cord that ran through the gate to the alley behind the house. Merchants could ring when they wanted to bring their wares into the kitchen. Only the master and his guests used the front door. There were no retainers at the kitchen door because of the barred gate.
    A bath sounded good. Bronwyn sighed. At least it would be better than trying to sleep.
    Cullen would be waiting in her dreams…
    A shiver shook her. She felt heat travel across the delicate skin of her face in another blush. It was absurd, the way her flesh responded to him when he was not even near. With a snort of distaste she picked up her hairbrush and began pulling the tie off the end of her braid. She needed to set her mind to forgetting the man. The men standing guard gave her all the information she needed. Her father was going to see her living under his roof until she died. Red Stone was set in the heart of McQuade territory. The walls had never been besieged much less breached.
    Sadness washed over her as she brushed her hair free. It fell around her in a soft cloud of honey silk. As she slipped her