Ransom

Chapter Twelve

The shock very nearly did his parents in. For the first time in his life, Iain Maitland was completely undone. As though he'd just run headfirst into a stone wall, he staggered back shaking his head in disbelief. His dark eyes misted. "Alec?" he whispered hoarsely. And then he roared, "Alec!"

Judith Maitland leapt to her feet and let out a joyful cry, her forgotten sewing basket spilling to the floor. Her hand flew to her heart. She took a shaky step toward her son and then fainted dead away. Unfortunately, Brodick was too far from her to catch her before she hit the floor, and her husband was still too shaken to do more than watch her collapse.

Alec almost knocked his father off his feet when he threw himself at his legs. Iain tried to shake himself out of his stupor. Trembling, the mighty warrior dropped to his knees and, with head bowed and eyes closed, wrapped his son in his strong arms.

The little boy put his head down on his father's shoulder and worriedly watched his mother. "Shouldn't you pick Mama up, Papa? "he asked.

Iain stood but couldn't make himself let go of his son, and so he ordered Brodick to do something about his wife.

Brodick slipped his hand under her shoulders and gently lifted her into his arms. Her face was white, and no amount of shaking was going to get her to wake up until she was ready.

"You've given your mother quite a surprise, Alec," Brodick remarked. "She had you dead and buried."

Iain shook his head. "No, she still had hope in her heart."

Judith opened her eyes and found herself in Brodick's arms. "Why are you…"

"Mama, you're awake."

Brodick slowly lowered Judith to the floor but held her about the waist in the event she felt like passing out again. Suddenly overcome by the tide of emotions engulfing her, she began to sob uncontrollably. Iain reached for her and held her while Alec watched and fretted.

"You're not supposed to cry, Mama. I'm not dead. I'm home. Papa, tell her not to cry."

Iain laughed. "She's happy to have you home. Give her a minute and she'll tell you so."

Judith touched Alec's face with her quivering hand. "I prayed that you…"

Brodick slowly backed away. He wanted to give the Maitlands a few minutes alone, and he also wanted to find Gillian. He had thought that she was with him when he'd entered the great hall, but now he realized she'd stayed behind. He found her sitting on a bench near the stairs. Her hands were folded in her lap and her eyes were downcast.

"What are you doing?" he asked, frowning.

"I'm waiting for the Maitlands to finish their reunion. I felt it would be intrusive for me to watch. They should have a few minutes alone."

Brodick sat down next to her and swallowed up all the space the bench allowed. She found herself squeezed up against him. She had likened him to a bear before, and now the image seemed all the more real.

He took hold of her hand and gently pushed up the sleeve of her gown. "You'll need to take this bandage off before you go to bed tonight."

"I will."

He didn't let go of her hand, and she didn't pull away. "Brodick?"

"Yes?"

She stared into his eyes a long minute before she spoke again. "I want to thank you for your help. Without you, Alec would never have made it back to his parents."

He disagreed. "I didn't get him home, Gillian. You did. I merely helped," he added. "But if I hadn't, you still would have found a way."

Iain called out to him, but she gripped his hand to get him to look at her again. "Yes?"

"After you speak to Alec's parents… will you be going home?"

He stood up and pulled her to her feet. They were just inches apart, his head bent down toward her, her face upturned to his, like lovers about to come together. Damn, but he suddenly wanted to kiss her. A long, hot kiss that would lead to another and another and another…

The way he was looking at her sent shivers down her arms. "Will you?" she whispered.

"What are you asking me?" he demanded impatiently.

Startled by the sharpness in his tone, she stepped back, the back of her knees bumping into the bench.

"After you speak to the Maitlands, will you be going home?" She stared down at her hands as she added, "You are a laird, after all. You must have many pressing duties."

"There's much that needs to be done," he agreed.

"Yes," she said, trying to keep her disappointment out of her voice. "I must thank you, Brodick, for all you've done for Alec, and me, but your duty is finished now that he's safely home. I don't know what I would have… done… without you…" She knew she was rambling, but she couldn't seem to make herself stop. "Of course you must go home. I just thought…"

"Yes?"

She lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. "I thought perhaps you would wish to see your good friend Ramsey Sinclair again."

He nudged her chin up with his thumb. "I'll see him before I leave the Maitlands. He should be here soon."

"What makes you think-"

He didn't let her finish her question. "I sent Dylan to warn him, remember?"

"Yes, but-"

"Ramsey will want to talk to you as soon as possible. He'll come here," he predicted once again.

"But will you go home then?" she asked.

"As I explained, I have many pressing duties."

Frustrated, she cried out, "Can you not give me a simple answer?"

Iain shouted Brodick's name.

"Come along, Gillian. Iain will want to meet you. He's had enough time to get over his surprise."

"And his wife?"

"It's going to take her a good week to get past her shock. I doubt she'll let Alec out of her sight for all that while."

Gillian brushed the dust from her gown. "I look a fright."

"Aye, you do."

She picked up her skirt to go down the stairs, but Brodick stopped her by taking hold of her arm. In a low voice he said, "You asked me if I would give you a straight answer. Now I'm wondering why you can't ask me a straight question."

"What in heaven's name is that supposed to mean? What is it you think I should ask you?"

"What you want to ask," he said.

"You're an exasperating man."

"So I've been told," he said. "I'm impatient too," he added. "But in this instance, I'm willing to wait."

"There she is, Mama. That's Gillian." Alec's shout echoed throughout the hall.

Gillian pulled away from Brodick, smiling as she watched the little boy run toward her. He grabbed her hand and started pulling. "Don't be afraid of Papa. Most ladies are, but maybe you won't be because you're not like most," he said.

She wasn't as confident as Alec assumed she was, for Iain Maitland was an imposing figure. He was a tall, muscular man with penetrating gray eyes. His dark hair was given to curl and seemed to soften the blistering scowl on his face. Had he not been so imposing, she would have thought he was almost as handsome as Brodick.

Judith Maitland's smile helped assuage her husband's frightening manner. She was a beautiful woman, but it was the color of her eyes that captivated. They were the color of violets. She was a little bit of a thing, yet had such a regal bearing about her Gillian felt as though she were in the presence of a queen.

Desperately in need of a bath and clean clothes, Gillian thought she must look like a lowly peasant.

As soon as Brodick made the introductions, Judith rushed forward to clasp Gillian's hand. Her voice trembled when she said, "You found our son and brought him home to us. I don't know how we will ever repay you."

Gillian darted a quick look at Brodick. The Maitlands obviously believed that Alec had been lost, and Lord help her, how was she ever going to explain what really happened?

"Come and sit at the table," Judith urged. "You must be thirsty and hungry from your long journey. Alec told us you came here all the way from England," she remarked as she led Gillian to a chair near the end of the table.

"Yes, I came here from England."

"I, too, am English," Judith told her.

"No, Judith," her husband corrected. "You used to be English."

His wife smiled. "The men here change history when it's convenient."

"You're a Maitland," Iain countered. "And that is all anyone need know. Brodick, pour yourself some wine and sit down. I want to hear every detail of what transpired before I open the doors to family and friends. Alec, come and sit with your father." He added the command with a good deal of affection in his voice.

The little boy ran around the table and pulled a stool close to his father's chair. Gillian noticed Iain's hand shook when he touched his son's shoulder. Alec smiled up at him and sat down, but was promptly lifted back to his feet and reminded to wait until the ladies had taken their seats.

The Maitland commander, Winslow, came striding into the hall then, bowed to his laird and lady, and then announced, "Ramsey Sinclair has just crossed our border and should be here within the hour."

"Has he already heard of our good fortune?" Iain asked.

"I sent Dylan to him," Brodick explained before turning to his brother.

"Gillian, I would like you to meet my brother. Winslow, this is Lady Gillian."

Winslow bowed. "Lady Gillian, you are from England?" he asked, frowning.

"Yes, I am from England. 'Tis the truth I cannot and would not change that fact, sir. Does it displease you?"

Winslow surprised her with a quick smile. "It would depend, milady."

"Depend on what?"

"My brother." Without further explanation he dismissed the topic altogether and turned to Brodick. "You'll see my wife and my boys before you leave? They will be disappointed if you don't."

"Of course I'll see them."

"Bring them here, Winslow," Iain ordered. "We must celebrate tonight. The children will stay up late."

"Winslow, do you happen to know if Ramsey's brother, Michael, rides with the laird?" Gillian asked.

If the soldier thought the inquiry was peculiar, he didn't comment on it. "I don't know, milady, but we will soon find out." He bowed once again and left the hall.

Judith personally saw to the task of fetching a pitcher of water for her guests.

"Papa, where's Graham?" Alec asked.

"Your brother's with your Uncle Patrick, but he'll be home soon. He's going to be very happy to see you."

"'Cause he missed me?" he asked eagerly.

Iain smiled. "We all missed you, Alec."

"Mama missed me the most. She's still shaking something fierce 'cause I surprised her. Look, Papa. She can't even pour the water. Is she gonna cry again?"

Iain laughed. "Probably," he answered. "It's going to take your mother… and me," he added, "time to get over this joyous surprise."

Alec hadn't exaggerated Judith's condition. She had already spilled a good deal of water on the tabletop and thus far hadn't managed to get a single drop into the cup. Her hands were shaking violently and every time she looked at her son, her eyes brimmed with fresh tears.

Iain put his hand on top of his wife's. "Sit down, love," he quietly suggested.

She moved her chair close to her husband, collapsed in the seat, and leaned into his side. Iain poured the water for Gillian, but as she reached for the goblet, she noticed how dirty her hands were and quickly hid them in her lap.

Iain put his arm around his wife and hugged her. His attention, however, was centered on Gillian. "Start at the beginning and tell me how and when you found my son. I want to hear every detail," he ordered. He paused to pat Alec before adding, "It's a miracle a five-year-old could survive the falls."

"Alec's only five years old?" Gillian asked.

"But I'm gonna be seven."

"Your brother's seven," Iain reminded him.

"But I'm gonna be seven too."

Alec scooted off the stool and ran around the table to Gillian. Without asking permission, he climbed onto her lap, pulled her arms around him, and grinned at her.

"You and Alec have become close friends," Judith remarked, smiling.

"Iain, perhaps you could wait until Alec has gone to bed to hear the details," Brodick suggested.

"But I get to stay up late 'cause Papa said we have to celebrate," Alec blurted. "Didn't you say so, Papa?"

"Yes," his father agreed.

"You know what, Gillian?" Alec whispered loudly.

She leaned down. "No, what?"

"When I go to bed, Mama's gonna sit with me until I fall asleep, and my brother sleeps in the same room with me, so maybe I won't have bad dreams and I won't get scared."

"Perhaps you won't dream at all tonight."

"But you got to have someone to sleep with too, so you won't get scared 'cause I won't be there."

"I'll be just fine," she assured him.

Alec wasn't convinced. "But what if you do get scared? You got to have someone to wake you up. Maybe you could ask Brodick to sleep with you again like he did before."

She clapped her hand over his mouth to get him to hush and felt her face burn with mortification. She knew Brodick was watching her, but she didn't dare look at him.

Judith laughed. "Alec, sweetheart, you're embarrassing Gillian."

"Mama, you know what Gillian calls me?"

"No, what?"

Giggling, the little boy said, "Honey bear."

Iain's gaze went back and forth between Gillian and Brodick. "Father Laggan's back," he remarked. "And there's another, younger priest named Stevens with him."

"Why are you telling me this?" Brodick asked.

"I just wanted you to know there are two priests available," Iain explained with a meaningful glance at Gillian.

"I didn't sleep with Brodick," she blurted out. "I have no need for a priest."

"Yes, you did too."

"Alec, it isn't polite to contradict your elders."

"But, Mama…"

"Hush, sweetheart."

Gillian glared at Brodick. He could easily correct this horrid misunderstanding if he would only offer a quick explanation.

He wasn't inclined. He winked at her. "I didn't know a face could get that red," he remarked.

"Do explain," she demanded.

"Explain what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

She turned to Judith. "We were camping… and it isn't what it sounds like… I did sleep, and when I awakened… they were all there…"

"They? "Iain asked.

"His soldiers."

"You slept with his soldiers too?"

She didn't understand that Iain was teasing her. "No… that is to say, we… slept. That's all that happened, Laird."

"Stop tormenting her," Judith ordered. "Can you not see how distressing this is for her? Gillian doesn't understand the Highlanders' humor. What happened to your arm?" Judith asked then, thinking to turn the subject to a less delicate one. "I noticed the bandage, and I was curious-"

Alec interrupted his mother. Jumping off Gillian's lap, he cried out, "Papa, we got to take a walk."

"Now?"

"Yes, Papa, now."

"Alec, I want to talk to Brodick and Gillian. I'm anxious to hear how they found you."

"But, Papa, I got to tell you what I did, and then you're gonna be mad at me. We got to take a walk so I can think about it."

"Come here, son," his father ordered, concerned by the anxiety he saw in Alec's eyes.

The little boy dragged his feet and kept his head down as he went to his father. Iain laid his hands on his shoulders and leaned forward.

Alec promptly burst into tears. "I got real scared, Papa, and I cut Gillian's arm, and then it got all swollen, and Annie had to fix it, and it's all my fault 'cause I hurt a lady, and I'm not ever supposed to hurt ladies, but I got real scared. I didn't like England and I wanted to come home." Alec threw his arms around his father's neck and began to sob in earnest.

"Alec has been very worried that he would disappoint you, Laird," Gillian explained. "He didn't understand that I was trying to help him. He had climbed down with a rope into a gorge, but it was an old rope, and it began to unravel, and he…" She looked to Brodick for help. The task of explaining suddenly became overwhelming and she was so weary she didn't know where to start.

"My son isn't making much sense," Iain said. "He says he was in England?"

Gillian braced herself for the ordeal ahead and quietly said, "He speaks the truth. Alec was in England."

"I told you so, Papa."

Iain nodded but kept his attention on Gillian. "How did my son get to England?"

"Alec didn't go into the falls. He was taken from the festival and imprisoned in a castle in England. That is where I met him."

The expression on Iain's face changed. He put Alec in Judith's lap, and stood. For his son's sake, he tried to keep his voice mild when in fact he wanted to shout.

"Who took him?"

Gillian felt an instant of real fear as the laird towered over her, glowering as though he had already decided she was fully responsible for his son's jeopardy.

"It was a mistake," she began.

"Damned right it was," Iain roared.

Alec's eyes grew wide. "Are you angry, Papa?"

His father took a deep breath. "Yes," he snapped.

"He isn't angry with you, Alec," Gillian whispered.

"He knows that."

"Don't snap at Gillian." Brodick, who had remained silent up until now, sounded as angry as Iain when he gave the command. "She is as innocent as your son in this. Sit down, and I'll tell you what I have learned. I know you're anxious to hear it all, but you cannot raise your voice to Gillian. I will not allow it."

Gillian could see that Iain was ready to explode and hurried to explain before the two lairds got into a real fight. "When I said it was a mistake…"

"Yes?" Iain asked.

"The men who took Alec thought they were stealing Ramsey's brother, Michael. They kidnapped the wrong boy."

"For the love of…" Iain was so enraged he couldn't go on.

"Sit down, husband," Judith suggested. "Listen to what Gillian has to say."

He nearly overturned the chair when he ripped it out from the table and sat down. Leaning back, he stared hard at Gillian for several seconds.

"Start talking."

"It's a very long story, Laird, and Ramsey should be here any minute now, shouldn't he? If you could please wait…"

Iain's jaw was clenched and he shook his head.

"Papa, you know what?" The little boy smiled up at his father when he spoke, and Iain reached over to pat him.

"No, what, Alec?" he asked gruffly.

"We sneaked away twice, but the first time we got dragged back, and it was all my fault 'cause I didn't wait like I was supposed to."

Iain blinked as he tried to sort out his son'scontusing explanation. "What happened the first time you got away?"

"I climbed down into the gorge is what I did," he boasted. "But I didn't get a good rope."

"It was threadbare," Gillian interjected.

"My son climbed down into a gorge with a threadbare rope?" Iain lashed out. "And where were you while Alec was attempting this?"

"Papa, she told me to wait for her, but I didn't, and we weren't supposed to go into the canyon, but I thought it would be faster. Then I got good and stuck, didn't I, Gillian?"

"Yes, you did."

"I was supposed to wait in the stable."

"But you didn't," his mother said.

"No, and I thought Gillian was gonna puke 'cause her face turned green when she looked over the side and saw me. She told me she gets awful sick when she's got to look way down, and she sometimes gets dizzy too."

"You're afraid of-" Judith began.

Her husband interrupted with a question of his own. "But you climbed down to get Alec anyway?"

"I didn't have any other choice."

"She had to fetch me, Papa," Alec explained. "And she was just in time 'cause the rope broke right in half just after she grabbed me. She told me she was awful scared, but she didn't puke."

The child sounded a little disappointed over that fact. Neither one of his parents smiled, for they were both thinking about the near miss their son had had.

They were also realizing that Gillian had saved him.

"I will force myself to be patient a little longer and wait until Ramsey arrives to hear your accounting," Iain announced. "But at the very least, give me the names of the bastards who stole my child from me," he demanded. "By God, I want to know who they are and now, this minute."

"I've warned you not to take that tone with Gillian. Now I'm ordering you, Iain. I won't have her upset."

Judith Maitland couldn't make up her mind who was more surprised by Brodick's angry outburst. Iain looked flabbergasted, and Gillian appeared to be incredulous.

Iain quickly recovered. He leaned forward and in a furious hiss said, "You dare to order me?"

Brodick also leaned forward. "That's exactly what I-"

Gillian, hoping to avert the budding hostility, blurted out, "Shouting at me won't upset me."

"But it upsets me, Gillian."

Gillian wondered if Brodick realized he was nearly shouting at her now. She looked to Judith for help, but it was Alec who inadvertently turned his father's attention.

"Papa, don't yell at Gillian," Alec cried out as he ran around the table to Gillian and climbed into her lap. "She never shouted at me, not even when the man beat her. She tricked him good, Papa."

"Someone beat her?" Iain asked.

Alec nodded. "She made him beat her so he wouldn't beat me."

The little boy suddenly remembered the ring Gillian had given him and pulled the ribbon over his head. "Gillian said she was gonna be my champion, just like Uncle Brodick, and she told me I could keep the ring until I got back home. She promised me she wasn't gonna let nobody hurt me and she didn't. I don't need the ring anymore to remind me I'm safe, but I still want to keep it."

"You can't, Alec," Gillian said softly.

He reluctantly handed the ring to her. "Uncle Brodick said I could keep his dagger forever."

She laughed. "I'm still not going to let you keep my grandmother's ring."

Judith placed her hand on top of her husband's. "You do realize that if it were not for this dear lady, our son would be dead."

"Of course, I realize-"

"Then I suggest, instead of shouting at her and treating her as though you hold her responsible for the actions of others, you thank her. I plan to get down on my knees and thank God for sending her to Alec. She was his guardian angel."

The emotional speech humbled Gillian, and she shook her head in protest. Judith dabbed at her eyes with a linen cloth and then stood.

"Gillian," Iain began, his voice hesitant. "I do thank you for protecting my son, and I certainly didn't mean to imply that I in any way hold you responsible. If I gave you that impression, I apologize. As difficult as it will be, I'll wait for Ramsey to join us to find out what happened."

Judith beamed with satisfaction. "I do believe that is the very first time I've ever heard you apologize. It's a momentous occasion. And since you are now in such an accommodating mood, may I suggest that you and Ramsey wait until after the celebration to hear what Gillian has to say. Tonight is Alec's homecoming and our friends and relatives will be here soon." Judith didn't wait for her husband's agreement. "Gillian will want to freshen up now."

"Gillian likes to take baths, Mama," Alec said. "She made me wash too. I didn't want to, but she made me."

Judith laughed. "She took good care of you, Alec," she said as she clasped hold of Gillian's arm. "How would you like a hot bath now?"

"I would like that very much."

"I'll find clean clothes for you and have these washed right away," she promised. "The Maitland plaid will keep you nice and warm," she added. "Though the days are warm, it gets quite chilly at night."

Hearing that Gillian would wear the Maitland plaid didn't sit well with Brodick. Without thinking how his words would be interpreted, he said, "She'll wear the Buchanan plaid for this celebration."

Iain folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Why do you want her to wear your colors? Are you claiming-"

Brodick cut him off. "My soldiers would be… upset. They would surely rebel if they saw her in your plaid, Iain. They've taken a liking to the lass and have become very possessive and protective of her. While she's in the Highlands, she'll wear our colors. I won't have the Buchanan soldiers insulted."

Iain grinned. "You're worried that your men will be upset? Is that what I heard you say? For God's sake, they're warriors, not…"

He was going to say "women," but quickly changed his mind when his wife gave him a sharp look. With a smile he substituted "children."

Judith laughed, for she knew her husband was trying to be diplomatic for her sake. She started toward the stairs then, but Gillian paused to turn back to Brodick.

"Brodick, you did promise your brother, Winslow, you would see his wife and children."

"I remember what I promised."

"Then you'll be here when I return?"

Exasperated that she still couldn't get up the courage to ask him a direct question, he said, "Yes."

She nodded before hurrying after Judith. She tried to hide her relief that Brodick would stay a bit longer, and then she became angry with herself for feeling the way she did. She was acting like a fool because she was letting herself become dependent on him, and she had no right to lean on the man. No, she couldn't ask anything more of him.

She diligently tried to put him out of her thoughts for the next hour as she bathed and washed her hair. Judith brought her a pale yellow gown to wear. It was a little too snug across her chest and showed a bit too much of the swell of her breasts, but Judith thought it was still proper. Brodick had sent up one of the Buchanan plaids and Judith showed Gillian how to pleat it about her waist. Then she draped one end over her left shoulder and tucked it into the belt, explaining, "It took me a long time to figure out how to do this. For the longest while I could never get the pleats straight. The only way to get the hang of it is to practice," she added.

"The plaid is very important to the Highlanders, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes," Judith said. "They… I mean to say, we… are a very fanciful people. The plaid should always cover the heart," she added. "We wear our colors proudly." She stepped back and inspected Gillian. "You look lovely," she announced. "Now come and sit by the fire and let me brush your hair. It looks almost dry. Will you mind if I ask you a few questions?" She laughed then. "I'm terrible, I admit. I made my husband wait, and now I'm impatient."

"I don't mind answering your questions. What is it you want to know?"

"How did you end up with Alec? Were you also taken captive?"

"Yes, I was."

"But why? You're English and surely you could appeal to your king for help."

"My king is fast friends with the men responsible for the trouble Alec and I were in, and in a way John is fully responsible for it all."

While Judith brushed her hair, Gillian told her about Arianna's treasure. Judith was captivated by the story, and when Gillian told her about the death of her father, the dear lady looked genuinely saddened.

"Prince John fell in love with Arianna, and though it sounds quite romantic,'tis the truth he was married at the time of his infatuation. It's tragic that Arianna was murdered, but I have no sympathy for my king. He betrayed his vows to his wife."

"He's been married twice now, hasn't he? And it's my understanding his first wife is still alive."

"Yes, she is," Gillian replied. "John was granted an annulment from Hadwisa after many years of marriage. They had no children," she added. "And they were second cousins. The Archbishop of Canterbury had forbidden the marriage, but John got a dispensation from Rome."

"If John's first marriage was recognized by the church, how, then, did he manage to marry a second time?"

"The Archbishop of Bordeaux and the bishops of Poitiers and Saintes pronounced that the first marriage wasn't valid."

"On what grounds?"

"Consanguinity," she answered.

"Because they were too closely related as second cousins."

"Yes," Gillian said. "John immediately married Isabella and stirred up all sorts of trouble for himself because she was already betrothed to another. She was only twelve years old when they married."

"John takes what he wants," Judith remarked. "Doesn't he?"

"Yes, he does," she agreed.

Judith shook her head. " England has changed considerably since I lived there."

"John is the culprit for all the unpleasant changes. He's alienated many powerful barons and there are whispers of insurrection. Worse, he's alienated the church, and our pope has retaliated by placing all of England under interdict."

Judith gasped. "Has John been excommunicated?"

"Not yet, but I believe Pope Innocent will be forced to do just that if John doesn't bend, and soon, to the pope's decision. The issue centers around the position of Archbishop of Canterbury. John wanted the Bishop of Norwich, John de Grey, to be elected, and the younger monks of Canterbury had already selected Reginald and sent him off to Rome to be confirmed by the pope."

"And the pope settled on Reginald, then?" Gillian shook her head. "No, he chose his own man, Stephen Langton. John was so furious he refused to let Langton enter England and took control of the monastery at Canterbury, and that is when our pope placed the entire country under interdict. No religious services can be performed. Churches are closed and locked, and priests must refuse to bless marriages. They can't administer any of the holy sacraments, except those that are of extreme necessity. It's a black time in England now, and I fear it will only get worse."

"I have heard that John acts out of anger."

"He's well-known for his ferocious temper."

"No wonder you didn't appeal to him for help."

"No, I couldn't," she said. "Do you have family worrying about you?"

"My uncle Morgan is being held captive now," she whispered. "And I've been given a… task… to complete before the fall harvest. If I fail, my uncle will be killed."

"Oh, Gillian, you've had a time of it, haven't you?"

"I need your husband's help."

"He'll help any way that he can," Judith promised on Iain's behalf.

"The man who holds my uncle is a close adviser to the king, and John will listen to him, not me. I thought about asking one of the more powerful barons for help, but they are all fighting amongst themselves, and I didn't know who I could trust. England," she ended, "is in chaos, and I worry about the future."

"I'm not going to hound you to answer any more questions," Judith said. "You'll have to go through it all with my husband and Ramsey later."

"Thank you for your patience," she replied.

A knock sounded at the door, but before Judith could answer, Alec came running into the room. He stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted Gillian.

She stood up and smiled at him. "Is something wrong, Alec?"

"You look… pretty," he blurted out.

Judith agreed. Gillian's long hair had dried into a riot of curls that spilled across her slender shoulders and framed her delicate facial features. She was a striking woman who was going to cause quite a stir tonight, Judith predicted.

"Mama, Papa bids you come downstairs right this minute. He says, 'Can't you hear the music?' Everybody's here, and they're ready to eat the food. Gillian, you got to come downstairs too. Uncle Brodick said so."

"Judith, you go ahead," Gillian said. "I've gotten this bandage all wet, but I'm supposed to take it off, anyway."

Judith wanted to help, but Gillian insisted she join her husband. Once she was alone, she sat back down and slowly unwound the bandage, dreading what she was going to see. The wound was more appalling than she'd expected, but thankfully it wasn't seeping, and the swelling appeared to be gone. The skin was puckered, blistered in spots, raw, and horribly ugly. She reminded herself it was a sin to be vain and she shouldn't care about scars. Besides, the arm would always be covered by the sleeves of her gowns, and no one other than herself would ever see it. The injury was still extremely tender to the touch, though, and she grimaced while she cleaned the area with soap and cool water. By the time she was finished following Annie Drummond's instructions, her arm was throbbing.

She patted the skin dry, pulled the sleeve back down to her wrist, and put the matter of her paltry injury aside. There were so many more important matters to worry about. Her thoughts turned to her Uncle Morgan. Was he being treated well? If his own staff had been allowed to stay with him, Gillian knew he would do all right, but if Alford had moved him…

She buried her face in her hands. Please God, take care of him. Don't let him catch cold or take ill. And please don't let him fret about me.

The sound of laughter intruded on her prayers, and with a sigh, she stood up and reluctantly went to join the Maitlands.

Chapter Thirteen

Just as Judith had predicted, Gillian did indeed cause a commotion.

Quite a crowd had gathered to celebrate Alec's return, and the mood was festive and loud. The hall was awash with candlelight. A young man was playing the lute in the corner as servants threaded their way through the throng balancing silver trays of drinks. A pig roasting on a spit was being watched over by an older woman with a poker in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. She used the spoon as a weapon to discourage the soldiers from tearing off pieces of meat before it was ready to be served.

The lively music and joyful banter surrounded Gillian as she surveyed the great hall. She started down the stairs, and suddenly the music stopped. The lute player looked up, and then one by one the voices hushed as men and women turned their faces toward her.

Brodick was in the process of answering yet another question Iain had posed when he happened to glance up and see Gillian slowly descending the steps. He promptly lost his train of thought. He forgot his manners too, for he was in the middle of a sentence when he abruptly turned his back on his brother and his friend and walked to the stairs.

While Brodick had certainly noticed her shape before, the gentle curves of her body were more obvious to him now. He didn't much like the cut of her gown, thinking it flattered her figure a bit too much, and he seriously considered fetching another Buchanan plaid and draping it around her neck so that it would hang down and hide her feminine attributes from the spectators. Damn, but she was lovely.

Gillian took one look at the scowl on Brodick's face and felt a sudden urge to turn around and go back upstairs. But she was already halfway down and wasn't about to look like a coward by retreating now. The attention was mortifying, the silence defeaning. Several men, she noticed, appeared startled; others looked befuddled. Only Brodick's soldiers, loyal men, Robert, Stephen, Liam, Keith, and Aaron, smiled at her, and she decided to look at them and ignore the crowd, and Brodick, as she continued on.

Brodick wasn't about to be ignored, however. He waited at the bottom of the steps, and when she finally reached him, he put his hand out. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his and looked up at him. Embarrassed to see that he was still glowering at her, she smiled sweetly and whispered, "If you do not stop glaring at me, I swear I will kick you soundly. Then you will have something to frown about."

He was so startled by her puny threat, he burst into laughter.

"You think you could injure me?"

"Undoubtedly."

He laughed again, a wonderful booming sound, and, Lord, how his eyes sparkled with devilment. She suddenly felt much more in control and sure of herself. She barely minded her audience at all. Besides, they couldn't gawk at her now, because Brodick's men surrounded her on all sides as was their peculiar habit.

"Laird, you shouldn't allow the Maitlands to stare at milady. It's unseemly," Robert muttered.

"And how would you have me stop them?" he asked.

"We'll be happy to see to that task," Liam offered, a glint of eagerness in his voice.

"Aye, we'll make them forget about their lustful thoughts," Stephen muttered.

Shoving an elbow into Liam's side, Aaron said, "Don't use the word 'lust' in front of milady."

Blessedly, the music started again, and the crowd resumed their celebration.

Brodick continued to hold her hand as he answered a question Liam had asked, and since he wasn't watching her, she pretended to be listening to what he was saying so she could stare at him. He was so ruggedly good-looking, she wondered if he had any idea how he surely affected women.

He also looked dangerous tonight, with his long golden hair about his shoulders and his day's growth of whiskers. He'd obviously washed, as his hair was only partially dry, and he was wearing a clean white shirt that either he had packed with him or Iain had loaned to him. His skin looked even more bronzed against the white fabric, and a strip of Buchanan plaid was draped over one of his broad shoulders.

He caught her watching him. The gleam in his eyes made her feel breathless, and she had a sudden urge to move into his arms and kiss that scowl right off his face. She sighed instead and thanked God the man couldn't read her unladylike thoughts.

"I say we take the Maitland soldiers outside and have a word with them, Laird," Robert suggested.

"A fist is more powerful than a word, Robert," Liam said. "What say we take them all on?"

Gillian hadn't been paying much attention to the Buchanan soldiers' grumblings until she heard the word "fist."

"You will not fight tonight," she ordered. "This is a celebration, not a brawl."

"But, milady, a good fight is always cause for celebration," Stephen explained.

"Are you telling me you enjoy fighting?"

The soldiers looked at one another, obviously perplexed by her question. The usually dour-faced Robert actually grinned.

"It's what we do," Liam told her.

Gillian kept waiting for Brodick to put a stop to the outrageous talk, but he didn't say a word. When she squeezed his hand, he merely retaliated by squeezing hers.

"I don't care if you enjoy fighting or not," she began. "Laird Maitland will be most displeased if you cause trouble tonight."

"But, milady, his soldiers continue to stare at you. We can't allow that."

"Yes, you can."

"It's insolent," Stephen explained.

"If anyone is staring, then it's my own fault."

"Aye, it is your fault." Brodick finally spoke. "You're too damned beautiful tonight."

She couldn't make up her mind if she was pleased or irritated. "Only you could make a compliment sound like a criticism."

"It was a criticism," he told her. "You simply cannot look the way you do and expect to be ignored. It's your own fault people are staring at you."

She jerked her hand away from his. "And just exactly what could I do to change the way I look?"

"It's your hair, milady," Aaron said. "Perhaps you could bind it up for tonight and cover it with a cloth."

"I'll do no such thing."

"It's also the gown she's wearing," Liam decided. "Milady, couldn't you find something less… fitted… for tonight?"

She glanced down at herself and then looked up. "Would a wheat sack do, Liam?" she asked.

The daft soldier looked as though he were actually considering the possibility. She rolled her eyes in vexation. "Those soldiers who might have glanced my way were probably just perplexed because they've noticed I'm wearing the Buchanan plaid. I shouldn't have put the thing on."

"Why not, milady?" Robert asked. "We like seeing you in our plaid."

"Only a Buchanan should wear your colors," she replied. "And I shouldn't proclaim to be something I'm not. If you'll excuse me, I'll just go back upstairs and put my old clothes on."

"No, you won't," Brodick said. He grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him. His goal was to get her to Iain and Judith so that they could introduce her to those they wanted her to meet, but the Maitland soldiers kept interfering with eager requests to meet Gillian. One upstart, built like a bull, was a little too enthusiastic and persistent for Brodick's liking, and he had to knock the man to his knees to get him out of their path as they made their way forward.

Gillian was appalled by his behavior. "You're the Buchanan laird," she reminded him in a whisper.

"I know who I am," he snapped.

If he wasn't going to worry about being overheard, then she wouldn't worry about it either. "Then act like it," she snapped back.

He laughed. "I am. In fact, I'm upholding our reputation and our traditions."

"You and your soldiers are acting like bullies."

"It's good of you to notice."

She gave up trying to reason with him. Elbow shove by elbow shove, they finally reached Iain and Judith. The Maitland laird bowed to her before turning his attention and his obvious displeasure on Brodick.

"Control your soldiers," he ordered. "Or I will."

Brodick grinned. Gillian turned around to find out what Brodick's men were up to and was further distressed to see that they were all doing their best to incite the Maitlands to fight.

She had no right to give orders to the Buchanan soldiers, but she still felt somehow responsible for their actions. She had become quite fond of all of them in a very short while, and she didn't want them to get on Iain's bad side even though the five rascals seemed to thrive on trouble. Fighting, it appeared, was as enjoyable to them as sweets to a child.

"Pray excuse me for one moment, Laird Maitland. I would like to have a word with Brodick's soldiers."

She made a curtsy to her host and hostess, ignoring Brodick altogether because she was having to do his duty for him, and then hurried over to his soldiers, who were in the midst of antagonizing a large group of Maitland warriors.

In a voice loud enough to be overheard by the Maitlands, she said, "It would please me if you act like gentlemen tonight."

They looked crestfallen, but quickly nodded their agreement. She smiled as she turned to the Maitlands.

"Your laird has decreed that none of his soldiers will fight tonight. I realize what a disappointment that must be for all of you good men, but as you know the Buchanans are honorable men, and they will not provoke you further."

"If they cannot fight us, why bother?" Liam said. "Your laird has taken the fun out of the game."

One of the Maitland soldiers slapped his shoulder. "Then what say we break open a keg of ale? We'll show you how Eric can down a full jug without once swallowing. I wager you can't top that feat."

Aaron disagreed, and after bowing to Lady Gillian, the Buchanans followed the Maitlands to the buttery to fetch the ale.

The competition, it seemed, was on.

"Children, every one of them," she muttered as she picked up her skirts and hurried back to the Maitlands.

Judith pulled her away from the men to introduce her to her dearest friend, a pretty, freckle-faced, redheaded lady with two full names, Frances Catherine.

"Her husband, Patrick, is Iain's brother," Judith explained. "And Frances Catherine and I have been friends for many years."

Frances Catherine's smile made Gillian feel at ease in a matter of seconds.

"Judith and I have been whispering about you," she admitted. "You have captured Brodick's attention, and that is no small accomplishment, Gillian. He doesn't like the English much," she added, softening the truth.

"Did he tell you he and Ramsey went to England a long time ago to find brides?" Judith asked.

Gillian's eyes widened and she glanced at Brodick. "No, he didn't tell me. When did he and his friend go to England?"

"It was at least six or seven years ago."

"More like eight," Frances Catherine told her friend.

"What happened?" Gillian asked.

"They were both in love with Judith," Frances Catherine said.

"They were not," Judith argued.

"Yes, they were," she insisted. "But of course Judith was already married to Iain, so they decided they would find brides in England just like her."

Gillian smiled. "They were very young then, weren't they?"

"With foolish expectations," Frances Catherine added. "None of the ladies they met measured up to their Judith-"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Frances Catherine. You needn't make me sound like a saint. They weren't looking for ladies like me. They were just restless and hadn't found mates here. They soon came to their senses, however, and came back home. Both vowed to Iain that they would marry Highlanders."

"And that was that," Frances Catherine said.

"Until you came along," Judith remarked with a smile.

"Brodick has been very kind to me," Gillian said. "But that is all there is to it. He's a very kind man," she added in a stammer.

"No, he isn't," Frances Catherine bluntly replied.

Judith laughed. "Do you have feelings for this kind man?"

"You shouldn't ask her such a question," Frances Catherine said. "But do you, Gillian?"

"Of course I care for him. He came to my aid and helped me get Alec home. I shall be forever indebted to him. However," she hastily added when both ladies looked as though they were going to interrupt, "I must return to England as soon as my duty here is finished. I cannot entertain foolish… dreams."

"There are complications you aren't aware of, Frances Catherine," Judith explained.

"Love is complicated," her friend replied. "Answer one last question for me, Gillian, and I promise I'll stop hounding you. Have you given your heart to Brodick?"

She was saved from having to answer the question when Frances Catherine's husband interrupted them. Patrick Maitland resembled his brother, Iain, in coloring, but he was sparsely built in comparison. He was just as protective of his wife, however, and Gillian noticed that both brothers didn't have any trouble letting others see how they felt about their wives. Their love was apparent, heartwarming, enviable.

Frances Catherine introduced her to Patrick and then proudly pointed out their children, six in all, twin girls who looked like their mother and four handsome sons. The baby couldn't have been more than a year old and was diligently trying to wiggle out of his father's arms. When the baby smiled, two shiny teeth were visible.

Alec tugged on Gillian's hand to get her attention then and presented his brother, Graham, to her. The firstborn Maitland was quite shy. He wouldn't look at Gillian, but he bowed formally all the way to his waist, then ran away to rejoin his friends.

"Our son Graham was named after a valiant soldier who trained my husband," Judith explained. "Graham's been gone almost eight years now, but we still mourn his passing. He was a wonderful man and like a grandfather to me. Ah, there's Helen waving to us. The food must be ready. Come, Gillian, you and Brodick must sit with Iain and me. Frances Catherine, fetch your husband and join us."

Darkness descended and additional candles were placed about the gigantic hall. All the women helped carry in platters of food. Though Gillian offered, she wasn't allowed to lift a finger. She was astonished that such a grand feast could be so quickly prepared. There were pigeon pies and pheasant, salmon and salted trout, thick crusty bread (black and brown), sugared cakes, and sweet apple tarts, and to wash it all down were glistening pitchers of wine and ale and icy cold water, fresh from a mountain stream. There was also goat's milk, and Gillian drank a full goblet of the creamy liquid.

During the meal, Alec was passed around from soldier to soldier. He was too excited to eat and was talking so fast, he stammered.

"My son has dark circles under his eyes," Iain said. "And so do you, Gillian. You will both have to catch up on your sleep."

"They both have nightmares." Brodick made the comment in a low voice so that only Iain would hear. "Where will Gillian sleep tonight?"

"In Graham's old room," Iain replied. "You needn't worry about her. Judith and I will make certain she isn't disturbed."

The music started again and Patrick immediately stood up. He put the baby in Judith's lap, then pulled his wife to her feet. Frances Catherine's face was flushed with excitement as she followed her husband to the center of the room. Other couples quickly joined them. They danced to the accompaniment of men stomping their feet and clapping their hands to the lively rhythm of the tune.

Several bold young soldiers came forward to ask Gillian to dance, but one dark look from Brodick sent them scurrying away.

He was getting angrier by the second. By all that was holy, couldn't they see she was wearing his plaid? And couldn't they leave her alone for one damned night? The lass was clearly all worn out. Why even Iain had remarked about the dark circles under her eyes. Brodick shook his head in disgust. What in thunder did he have to do to make certain that Gillian got a little peace and quiet?

And what right did he have to be so possessive? She didn't belong to him. They had simply been thrown together for Alec's sake.

"Hell," he muttered.

"Excuse me?" Gillian's arm rubbed against his when she leaned toward him. "Did you say something, Brodick?"

He didn't answer her. "He said, 'hell,'" Iain cheerfully informed her. "Didn't he, Judith?"

"Yes, he most certainly did," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she patted her nephew. "He said, 'hell.'"

"But why?" Gillian asked. "What's wrong with him?"

Iain laughed. "You," he answered. "You're what's wrong with him."

Brodick scowled. "Iain, let it alone."

"Milady, could I have a dance with you?"

Alec stood right behind Gillian, poking her between her shoulders to get her attention. When she turned around and smiled at him, he bowed low. Lord, he was adorable, and she had to resist the urge to scoop him up in her arms and hug him tight.

While Brodick was patiently explaining to the child that Gillian was too tired to dance, she stood up, curtsied as though the King of Scotland himself had honored her, and then put her hand out for Alec to clasp.

Alec thought that dancing meant circling until he was dizzy. Brodick moved to the side of the hall and leaned against a pillar with his arms folded across his chest while he watched. He noticed how Gillian's dark curls shimmered red from the light of the fire blazing in the hearth behind her, and he noticed her smile too. It was filled with such sweet joy.

Then he noticed he wasn't the only man noticing. As soon as the dance ended, soldiers, like vultures, came swooping in. At least eight men surrounded her, begging for her attention.

All of them wanted to dance with her, but she politely declined their requests. She found Brodick in the crowd, and without even thinking about what she was doing, she walked over to him and stood by his side. Neither looked at the other and neither spoke, yet when she moved closer to him, he moved toward her, until their bodies touched.

He stared straight ahead when he asked, "Do you miss England?"

"I miss my Uncle Morgan."

"But do you miss England?"

"It's home."

Several minutes passed in silence as they watched the dancers, and then she asked, "Tell me about your home."

"You wouldn't like it."

"Why not?"

He shrugged. "The Buchanans aren't like the Maitlands."

"And what does that mean?"

"We're… harder. They call us Spartans, and in some ways I think perhaps we are. You're too soft for our way of life."

"There are other women living on the Buchanan land, aren't there?"

"Yes, of course."

"I'm not certain what you meant when you said I was too soft, but I have a feeling it wasn't flattery. Still, I'm not going to take offense. Besides, I'd wager that the Buchanan women aren't any different than I am. If I'm soft, then so are they."

He smiled as he glanced down at her. "They'd have you for their supper."

"Meaning?"

"Your feelings would be destroyed in a matter of minutes."

She laughed, and heads turned in response to the joyful sound.

"Tell me about these women," she asked. "You've made me very curious."

"There isn't much to tell," he replied. "They're strong," he added. "And they can certainly take care of themselves. They can protect themselves against attack, and they can kill as easily and as quickly as any man." With another glance at her he added, "They're warriors, and they sure as certain aren't soft."

"Are you criticizing them or praising them?" she wanted to know.

"Praising them, of course."

She moved so that she stood directly in front of him. "What was your purpose in telling me about the women in your clan?"

"You asked."

She shook her head. "You started this conversation. Now finish it."

He sighed. "I just wanted you to know that it could never work."

"What couldn't work?"

"You and me."

She didn't try to pretend she was outraged by his impudence or insulted by his arrogance. "You're a very blunt man, aren't you?"

"I just don't want you to get your hopes up."

He knew he'd pricked her temper with his last comment-her eyes had turned the color of an angry sea-but he wasn't going to take the words back or soften the truth.

He dealt in reality, not fantasy, yet the thought of walking away from her was becoming more and more unacceptable to him. What the hell was the matter with him? And what was happening to his discipline? It fairly deserted him now, for though he tried, he found it impossible to make himself look away from her. He focused on her mouth, remembering all too well how wonderfully soft her lips had been pressed against his. Damn, but he wanted to kiss her again.

His eyes narrowed, and he looked as though he were about to start growling at her any moment.

"You probably feel you're being very noble by telling me you could never love me…"

Surprised by her interpretation, he replied gruffly, "I didn't say I couldn't love you.".

"You most certainly did," she argued. "You just told me that a life together is out of the question."

"It is out of the question. You'd be miserable."

She closed her eyes and prayed for tolerance. She was riled and trying not to let it show. "Let me get this straight. You could love me, but you could never live with me. Have I got it right, now?"

"Just about," he drawled out.

"Since you've felt compelled to make your position clear, I believe I shall do the same. Even if I should suffer the misfortune of falling in love with an arrogant, opinionated, obstinate Spartan like you-which, I might add, is about as likely as being able to fly like a bird-I couldn't possibly marry you. So you see it doesn't matter a twit that you believe a life together is out of the question."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why can't you marry me?"

She blinked. The man was making her crazy.

"I must return to England…"

"So that the bastard who beat you near to death can have another opportunity to kill you?"

"I will protect my Uncle Morgan at all costs."

He didn't like hearing that. He clenched his jaw, causing the muscle to flex, his frustration more than apparent.

"And when you find your sister, will you ask her to give up her life as well?"

"No, I won't," she whispered. "If I can find Arianna's treasure…that will have to be enough to placate my uncle's captor."

"I find it curious that in all the time we've been together, you've never once said his name."

"We haven't been together all that long."

"Why haven't you spoken his name? You don't want me to know who he is, do you, Gillian?"

She refused to answer him. "I would like to sit down. Would you excuse me please?"

"In other words, you're through discussing the matter?"

She started to nod, then changed her mind. "As a matter of fact, I do have one more thing to say to you."

"Then say it," he ordered when she hesitated.

"I could never love a man who finds me so lacking."

She tried to walk away, but he caught her by her shoulders and pulled her back.

"Ah, Gillian, you're not lacking." His head slowly bent toward her. "You're… just… so… damned… sweet."

His arms went around her and he roughly pulled her against him. His mouth brushed against hers. The mere touch of her sweet lips was so intoxicating that what happened next was surely inevitable and meant to be.

Brodick stopped running.

His mouth covered hers with absolute possession. Yet there was an urgency there as well to make her feel the way he was feeling. He knew she cared about him, but he wanted and needed much more. The music and the crowd and the noise were completely forgotten in that suspended moment of time as Brodick kissed her long and thoroughly. He felt her tremble when his tongue swept inside her sweet mouth with blatant ownership, and he tightened his hold around her waist, thinking that he never wanted to let go. Then he felt her twine her arms around his neck and lean into him until their thighs were pressed against each other. She met his kiss with an equal fervor that was so honest and giving he actually shuddered with raw desire.

He was thinking hard about throwing her over his shoulder and finding the closest bed when someone shouted and he came to his senses in a flash. He ended the kiss so abruptly, her arms were still around his neck when he stepped back.

It took her several seconds to realize where she was and what had happened, and when her head finally cleared, she was promptly horrified by her own shameful behavior. Dear God, there were at least sixty strangers watching, and what would her Uncle Morgan say about her sinful exhibition of lust?

She was so confused she didn't know what to do. She wanted to tell Brodick never to kiss her like that again, yet at the same time she wanted to demand that he do exactly that, and right this minute. What was happening to her? She didn't know her own thoughts anymore. Angry and frustrated, she lashed out at him.

"You will not kiss me like that ever again." The command shook with emotion.

"Yes, I will."

He sounded gratingly cheerful, and she wasn't about to stand there arguing with him. She turned around and tried to walk away.

He grabbed her hand and jerked her back. "Gillian?"

"Yes?" she replied, rudely refusing to look at him.

"Ramsey's here."

Her head snapped up. "He is?"

Brodick nodded. "You will remember my kiss when you meet him. In fact, you're going to be thinking about it the rest of the night."

It wasn't a hope; it was a command, and she didn't know which offended her more, his arrogance or his bossy disposition.

"I will?" she challenged.

He smiled. "Yes."

Determined to have the last word, she took a step closer to him so she wouldn't be overheard and then said, "I will not love you."

He took a step toward her, no doubt trying to intimidate her, she supposed, and then he leaned down close to her ear and whispered, "You already do."

Chapter Fourteen

Every unattached female in the Maitland clan sprang to attention the second Laird Ramsey and the Sinclair entourage entered the hall. A collective sigh went up from the young girls, who acted very like a covey of quail following Ramsey as he crossed the long hall to get to Iain Maitland.

Brodick watched Gillian's reaction to the Adonis. Before Ramsey came inside, Brodick had suggested rather firmly that she sit in the corner and wait until the greetings were over to speak to him.

Her response to his friend pleased Brodick considerably. Unlike the other women, she didn't leap to her feet and go chasing after the laird. Instead, she appeared curious and somewhat relieved when she spotted Ramsey's little brother, Michael, trailing behind him. 'Twas a fact, she seemed far more interested in finding out who was with him. With a worried look on her face, she intently studied each man walking into the hall. When she suddenly relaxed in the chair, Brodick realized she had been waiting to see if the traitor was in the group.

Dylan was the last to enter. He immediately went to his laird to give his report, and when he was finished, he asked, "Where is Lady Gillian? I don't see her dancing with the others."

Brodick nodded toward the corner. Dylan turned, spotted her, and then smiled. "She wears our plaid," he remarked proudly. "Is she not the most beautiful lady here?"

"Aye, she is," Brodick agreed quietly.

"Laird, this is a celebration, yet I notice milady sits all alone. Why is that? Are the Maitlands ignoring her? Does the clan consider her an outsider? Hasn't Iain told his followers that she is the sole reason they have something to celebrate? By God, don't they realize Alec would be dead if it were not for her courage and strength?"

With each question he posed, Dylan became more outraged until his face was red with anger. The possibility that Lady Gillian was being slighted obviously infuriated him.

"Do you believe I would allow anyone to ignore Gillian? Find your soldiers and you'll know the reason why she sits all alone. They won't let anyone near her."

Dylan glanced about the hall and relaxed. His anger quickly turned to satisfaction. Robert and Liam had stationed themselves near the hearth so that they could easily intercept any eager soldier foolish enough to attempt to get to Gillian. With the same determination, Stephen, Keith, and Aaron had taken up positions on the opposite side so that they could effectively block access to the lady from both the entrance and the south side of the hall.

Brodick changed the subject then. "How did Ramsey take the news that it was Michael they wanted?"

"I didn't tell him."

"Why not?"

"There were too many others there, including the bastard MacPhersons," he explained. "Not knowing who to trust-"

"You shouldn't trust any of them," Brodick interjected.

"That's true," Dylan agreed. "So I simply told him that Iain and you wanted a conference with him as soon as possible. I also insisted that Michael come with us. When I was finally able to get him alone, I told him that Alec had been found."

"I imagine Iain's telling Ramsey the full truth now," Brodick remarked when he saw the two lairds in deep discussion. Iain's anger darkened his expression and his gestures were animated as he related what had happened to his son, but Ramsey didn't show any reaction to the startling news. He stood with his hands at his sides, looking as though he were hearing complaints about the weather.

"Ramsey seems to be taking the news well," Dylan remarked.

Brodick disagreed. "No, he isn't. He's furious. Can't you see how his hands are clenched? Ramsey's better than Iain and me at masking his feelings," he added.

"Laird Maitland's beckoning you," Dylan said. Brodick immediately went to join his friends. He showed his affection for Ramsey by slapping him on his shoulder and shoving him hard in his side with his elbow. Ramsey shoved back. "It's good to see you again, old friend," Ramsey began. "There's a foul rumor spreading through the Highlands about you, Ramsey, but I refuse to believe it. They say you've taken the MacPherson weaklings under your wing, but I know such odious gossip couldn't possibly be true."

"You know good and well the MacPhersons have joined my clan. They wanted to be Sinclairs," he added. "But they aren't weak, Brodick, only poorly trained. They didn't have the good fortune of a chieftain like Iain to train them properly the way you and I did."

"That's true," Brodick conceded. "Iain, what have you told him?"

"I told him Alec was taken by mistake and that Michael was the target."

"Where's the woman who brought Alec home?" Ramsey demanded. "I would have a word with her now."

"And so would I," Iain announced. "The party is over."

Iain signaled to the elders, and within minutes the crowd of well-wishers left. Ramsey said good night to his brother and asked him if he would like to stay with the Maitlands for a while.

Michael was thrilled. "Alec said his papa would take us fishing and he won't let us drown."

"I would hope not," Ramsey replied. "While you are here, you will remember your manners and you will obey Lady Maitland."

Michael went running up the stairs with Alec and his older brother, Graham, as Winslow came back inside. The Maitland commander went directly to Gillian, who had just said good night to Frances Catherine.

"My wife was upset with me because I didn't introduce her to you. If you could make time tomorrow…"

"I would love to meet your wife before I leave."

"Leave?" he repeated, sounding puzzled. "Where will you be going?"

"To the Sinclair holding with Ramsey."

"Brodick's allowing this?" he asked incredulously.

"I haven't asked his permission, Winslow."

"My brother would never let you go anywhere with Ramsey," he announced.

"Why wouldn't he?"

"My wife's name is Isabelle."

The abrupt change in topic was deliberate, of course. He wanted to end the discussion. His behavior reminded her of his brother's, for Brodick was just as abrupt.

And just as bossy, she decided when he told her she would like his wife. He hadn't made the statement as a hope. No, he'd ordered her to like Isabelle.

"I'm sure I will like your wife, and I look forward to meeting her."

Winslow nodded approval and then said, "The lairds are waiting for you."

With a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and nodded.

The hall was still ablaze with light from the burning candles and the roaring fire in the hearth. The imposing assembly was gathered at the far end of the massive oak table, waiting tor her to join them. Iain sat at the head with Ramsey to his left and Brodick to his right. As soon as the lairds saw Gillian coming, they rose to their feet. She pulled out a chair at the opposite end and sat down. Dylan and Winslow took their places behind their lairds.

"I would hear now exactly what happened to my son," Iain said.

Brodick dragged his chair to her end of the table, sat down next to her, folded his arms across his chest, and gave his friends a glare that suggested he'd bloody them if they said a word about his seating preference.

Ramsey kept his thoughts contained, but Iain looked quite smug and satisfied. Dylan actually nodded, as though giving his approval, and then walked over to stand behind his laird.

Iain seemed amused as he watched Brodick, and it suddenly occurred to Gillian that the Maitland laird was actually a very kind man. When she had first met him, she'd found him intimidating and gruff, but she didn't any longer. Perhaps it was the affection she had seen him show his wife and children that had changed her opinion.

Ramsey, on the other hand, was more difficult to judge. He seemed far more relaxed than Brodick, which was amazing, given the fact that he had just learned that someone wanted to harm his brother. What would he do when he heard the rest of the story?

"I should have thought to have Dylan tell you to bring your commander," Brodick said to Ramsey.

"I'll tell Gideon what he needs to know when I return home," Ramsey said.

"My commander, Winslow, and Brodick's commander, Dylan, are here for a specific reason, Gillian," Iain explained.

She folded her hands on the tabletop. "For what specific reason, Laird?"

Brodick's arm rubbed hers when he leaned forward. "Retaliation." He said the word in a hard voice that sent chills down her spine. She waited for further explanation, her mind racing with questions, but Brodick didn't say another word.

"What kind of retaliation? Do you mean war?"

Instead of answering her, Brodick turned to Iain. "Let's get on with it. She's tired."

"Gillian, why don't you start at the beginning, and I promise not to interrupt," Iain said. "We'll get through this quickly and you can get some rest."

She had half expected Ramsey to rant and rave at her and blame her by association for the treachery of other Englishmen. Thankful she had been mistaken, she relaxed, leaning into Brodick's side.

"I'm not so overly tired tonight," she insisted. "But I appreciate your concern. I should start at the very beginning, the night my father awakened my sister and me and tried to get us to safety."

For the next hour Gillian took the men through her history. Her voice didn't falter and she never once hesitated in her recitation of the facts. She simply told them everything that had happened in concise, chronological order. She tried not to leave anything of importance out, and by the time she was finished, her throat was dry and scratchy.

The men never interrupted her, and only the burning logs crackling in the fire could be heard in the silence that followed. She must have sounded hoarse because Brodick poured a goblet of water for her. She drank it down and thanked him.

To their credit, Iain and Ramsey were amazingly calm, considering what they had just heard. They took turns questioning her, and for another hour she was subjected to an intense grilling.

"Your enemy thought to use your brother to draw you out, Ramsey, so he could kill you," Brodick said. "Who hates you so much that he would go to such extremes?"

"Hell if I know," Ramsey muttered.

"Ramsey, do you know Christen?" Gillian asked. "Have you heard of the family who might have taken her in and claimed her for their own?"

Ramsey shook his head. "I'm only just now getting to know all the members of my clan," he said. "I had been away from home for many years, Gillian, and when I returned to the Sinclairs and became laird, I only knew a handful of my father's followers."

"But Christen isn't a Sinclair," Gillian reminded him.

"Yes, you told me she's one of the MacPhersons, but unfortunately, I haven't had time to get to know many of them either," he admitted. "I honestly don't know how we'll find her."

"Then you'll help me?"

He seemed surprised by her question. "Of course I'll help."

"The old men will know about Christen." Brodick drew everyone's attention when he made the comment.

Iain agreed with a nod. "You're right. The old men will remember. They know all the families and all the gossip. How old was Christen when she came here?"

"Six or seven years old," Gillian answered.

"If a family suddenly claims a little girl as their daughter-" Ramsey began.

Iain interrupted him. "But Gillian just told us that the family lived near the border for several years before going north to join their relatives."

"Still, word would have gotten out if she wasn't their own child," Brodick insisted.

"I'll make inquiries," Ramsey promised.

"Finding her may not be as difficult as you're assuming," Iain said. "Brodick's right about the old men. When Graham and Gelfrid were alive, they knew everything that went on."

"Aye, they did," Ramsey agreed before turning to Gillian again. "Tell me, what will you do when you find her? Will you ask her to return to England with you?"

She bowed her head. "No, I won't," she said. "But it's my hope that she'll remember Arianna's treasure and that she might even know where it's hidden."

"She was very young when she was given the box," Iain said. "You're expecting her to have a strong memory. I doubt she'll remember anything."

"She may not even remember you," Brodick said.

Gillian refused to believe that possibility. "Christen is my sister. She'll know me," she insisted.

"You told us that Christen is a year older than you are," Ramsey said.

"Almost three years older," Gillian corrected.

"Then how is it you remember the details so vividly? My God, you were little more than a baby."

"Liese, my dearest friend, God rest her soul, helped me hold on to the memories. She constantly talked about that night and what she had learned from the others who survived. Liese didn't want me to forget because she knew that one day I would want…"

Brodick nudged her when she suddenly stopped. "She knew you'd want what?"

"Justice."

"And how do you plan to accomplish that?" Ramsey asked.

"I'm not sure yet, but one thing I do know. I won't have my father's name slandered. The man who holds my uncle Morgan captive thinks he can prove that my father killed Arianna and stole the treasure. I mean to prove he didn't. He will rest easy in his grave," she added, her voice shaking with emotion. "I do have a glimmer of a plan," she said then. "Greed motivates the monster," she added, referring to Baron Alford, though she deliberately withheld his name. "And he likes games. He thinks he's so clever, but perhaps I can find a way to turn that against him. That is my hope, anyway."

Weary from having to revisit the past, she took another drink of water and thought to end the discussion. "I don't think I've left anything out," she said. "I tried to tell you everything."

She was about to add her request that she be excused for the evening, but Iain changed her mind with his comment.

"Not quite everything," he said softly.

She leaned back in her chair and put her hands in her lap. "What did I leave out?" she asked, feigning innocence.

Brodick put his hand on top of hers. "They know you saw the Highlander who made this pact with the English devil," he said.

"You told them?"

"Alec told his father, and he told Ramsey," he explained. "But just so you understand, Gillian. If the boy hadn't mentioned it, I sure as certain would have."

"Why did you ask Alec not to tell us about the traitor?" Ramsey asked.

She took a deep breath. "I worried that you might think to keep me here until I pointed out the man who betrayed you."

Iain and Ramsey exchanged a quick look, and she instinctively knew that was their exact plan. They were planning to keep her in the Highlands. She wanted them to admit it. "Is that what you're thinking to do?"

Both lairds ignored the question. "What did he look like?" Ramsey asked.

"He was a big man with long dark hair and a firm jaw. He wasn't unpleasant to look upon," she admitted.

"You've just described most of the men in the Highlands, Gillian. Were there no distinguishing marks that would help us find him?"

"Do you mean scars?"

"Anything that would help us recognize him."

"No, I'm sorry, there really wasn't anything unusual about him."

"I was just hoping… it would make it easier," Ramsey said, and then he leaned forward once again to ask her more questions. She was surprised by the Sinclair laird's restraint. He sounded so calm and in control, yet she knew he had to be sickened and furious by what he had heard thus far. He wasn't letting his emotions get the upper hand, though, and she thought his self-control was quite admirable.

Alec came running down the steps. "Papa, can I bother you?" he called out.

His father's smile was all the permission the child needed. Barefoot, he ran across the hall.

"Alec, why are you still awake?"

"I forgot to kiss you good night, Papa."

Iain hugged Alec, promised he'd look in on him before he went to bed, and sent him back upstairs.

Gillian watched Alec take his time crossing the room, obviously trying to delay going to bed. The young fought sleep, she thought, but the old relished it, and at the moment, she felt absolutely ancient.

"Are there any more questions?" she asked wearily.

"Just one," Ramsey said.

"Yes, just one," Iain agreed. "We want their names, Gillian, all three of them."

She looked from one laird to the other and then said, "And when you know who they are? What do you plan to do?"

"Let us worry about that," Iain said. "You don't need to know."

She disagreed. "Oh, but I think I do need to know. Tell me," she insisted.

"What the hell do you think we're going to do?" Brodick asked in a low voice.

Jarred by his anger, she ordered, "Don't you dare take that tone with me, Brodick."

He was astounded by her outburst and wasn't quite sure how to respond. Had they been alone, he probably would have pulled her into his lap and kissed her, just for the hell of it, but they weren't alone, there was an audience watching and waiting, and he didn't want to embarrass her. He did want to kiss her, though, and that realization irritated him. Where had all his discipline gone? When he was close to her, he couldn't seem to control his own thoughts.

"Hell," he muttered.

"And don't curse in front of me either," she whispered.

He grabbed her arm, pulled her into his side, and bent down to whisper into her ear. "It pleases me to see you've got the courage to stand up to me."

Would she ever understand him, she wondered. "Then I'm about to make you delirious, Laird."

"No," he countered. "You're about to answer the question. We want the names of the Englishmen."

No one noticed that Alec was still lingering in the hall. When he had heard the briskness in his father's voice, he'd turned around to watch and listen, then slowly crept forward. He was worried his papa might be angry with Gillian, and if that turned out to be true, then the boy decided he would become her champion. If that didn't work, he would go and get his mama.

Brodick had leaned back in his chair and was now patiently waiting for her to do as she had been instructed by all three lairds.

"Yes," she suddenly said. "I will be happy to give you their names, just as soon as you promise me you will not do anything until after the fall festival."

"We need their names now, Gillian," Ramsey insisted, completely ignoring her demand.

"I need your promise first, Ramsey. I will not let you put my Uncle Morgan in danger."

"He's already in danger," Iain pointed out.

"Yes, but he's alive now, and I mean to keep him that way."

"How can you be certain he's still alive?" Ramsey asked.

"If he were killed, I would have no reason to return to England. The monster knows that. I won't give him anything until I see my uncle," she explained. "He won't harm him."

Iain sighed. "You're putting all of us in a difficult position," he began, trying to be diplomatic. "You've brought my son home to me and for that I will be eternally grateful. I know how much your uncle means to you, and I promise that I will do everything within my power to free him, but Gillian, I want the name of the man who locked my son away like an animal, the man who beat you near to death-"

"Papa, don't be mad at Gillian." Alec shouted his plea as he ran to his father. Tears clouded the boy's eyes. "She didn't do anything wrong. I know the man's name."

Iain lifted Alec into his lap and tried to reassure him. "I'm not angry," he promised. "And I know Gillian didn't do anything wrong."

"Alec, did you hear all the names?" Brodick asked.

The little boy leaned against his father's chest and slowly nodded. "Yes," he said. "I heard all of the names, but I don't remember the other two… just the man who hurt Gillian."

"That's the name I most want," Brodick said softly. "Who is he, Alec?"

"Alec, please," Gillian began.

"Tell me, Alec. Who is he?"

"Baron," Alec whispered. "His name is Baron."