Ransom

Chapter Twenty

Ramsey's audience with Bridgid KirkConnell's mother, Leah, left a bitter taste in his mouth. When the woman had walked into the great hall, Ramsey's first impression of her was positive. Though in her middle years, Leah was still a striking woman. Aye, time had been kind to her. After listening to what she had to say, Ramsey's opinion of her radically changed, and by the time she left the hall, the sight of her sickened him.

He and Brodick had gone to the lake to wash and change into clean clothes, but as soon as he'd heard Leah's petition regarding her daughter, Ramsey felt the sudden need to wash again. Leah's perfidy blasphemed motherhood.

Brodick returned to the hall a few minutes after the encounter frowning, as was his usual inclination, because Gillian was still talking to Brisbane and Otis. He was anxious to hear what news they'd given her. There was also the fact that he wanted her by his side, an admission that made his frown intensify, for even he realized he was acting like an infatuated boy.

He found Ramsey slumped in a chair, his head bowed as though in prayer.

When his friend looked up and Brodick saw his sour expression, he asked, "What ails you? You look like you've swallowed lye."

"I feel as though I have," Ramsey admitted. "I just finished an audience with Bridgid KirkConnell's mother, Leah."

"I take it the meeting didn't go well."

"The woman is foul," Ramsey muttered. "How in God's name am I going to tell Bridgid that her own mother…"

"What?"

He sighed. "Leah's jealous of her daughter," he explained, shaking his head over such a sin.

"Did she say as much?"

"No, but it was very apparent that's the root of her trouble. Leah is newly married, and she doesn't like the way her husband looks at Bridgid. She thinks he lusts after her daughter, and she wants Bridgid out of her house."

"Maybe she's thinking to protect Bridgid," Brodick suggested.

Ramsey shook his head again. "No, her daughter's welfare is the last of her concerns. She went on and on about how old she looks when she's standing near Bridgid."

"For God's sake," Brodick muttered. "Why must you deal with such petty matters?"

"Like you, I, too, must look out for all my clan, and Bridgid is part of my family. Stay and meet her," he urged. "Then you'll understand why I'm so sickened by her mother's behavior."

"Does Bridgid know her mother wants her to leave her home?"

"I don't know," he answered. "Leah sent her to her sister to stay for a spell, using the excuse that Bridgid's aunt needed help with the new baby."

"Then maybe she can return to the aunt's house."

"It was only a temporary solution," Ramsey explained. "The aunt has five children and lives in a small cottage. There simply isn't room for Bridgid."

"Then marriage is the only answer."

"That's the problem," Ramsey said, and then quickly explained about the promise given to Bridgid's father.

"Do you mean to tell me that Bridgid decides who she marries?"

"Unless I break that promise."

"I know you well," Brodick said. "You won't do any such thing."

"So what's the answer to this problem?" he asked. "Got any ideas?"

Brodick thought about it for a moment, then said, "Iain could find a place for her."

"She belongs here. This is her home," he argued. "She would think she was being banished."

"She would adjust."

"I will not hurt her tender feelings. She's done nothing wrong."

Brodick studied Ramsey for several seconds and then said, "You care for this woman, don't you?"

"Of course I care. She's part of my clan."

Brodick smiled. "Then why don't you marry her?"

Ramsey stood up and began to pace in front of the hearth. "Because she's in the Sinclair clan," he explained. "I know my duty. If I am to make this union work between the MacPhersons and the Sinclairs, then I should marry Meggan MacPherson. It makes perfect sense, doesn't it? I get what I want out of the bargain. The MacPherson land is a dowry I cannot turn down."

"You've always been a practical man," Brodick remarked.

"And so were you," he countered, "until Gillian entered your life."

Brodick agreed with a nod. "I never saw it coming."

Because Brodick sounded disgusted with himself, Ramsey laughed. "When exactly did you know…"

Brodick shrugged to cover his discomfort. "When Annie Drummond poured liquid fire on Gillian's open cuts. I held her hand down so that she couldn't move during the atrocious treatment. She never made a sound."

"Ah, so it was her bravery that captivated you."

"No, it was the way she glared at me," he admitted with a laugh. "Honest to God, she looked like she wanted to kill me for making her suffer such an indignity. How could I not become infatuated with such a strong, stubborn woman?"

Anthony put an end to the discussion when he announced that Bridgid KirkConnell was waiting to speak to her laird.

A moment later, Bridgid came inside. The sight of her smile lifted Ramsey's spirits, though he was amazed that she would have anything to smile about.

"Good day, Laird," she called out as she walked forward and curtsied. "And good day to you, Laird Buchanan."

She couldn't quite look Brodick in the eye when she greeted him, as she, too, had heard all the rumors about him and was therefore wary.

Brodick could see that he scared her, but he was impressed that, even so, she moved close to him and curtsied once again.

"Isn't it a fine day?" she asked in an effort to ward off the topic she knew Ramsey wanted to discuss.

"And what's so fine about it?" Ramsey asked.

"Oh, everything, Laird. The sun is bright and the breeze is warm. It's a very fine day."

"Bridgid, I just spoke to your mother…"

She lowered her eyes and clasped her hands behind her back. "Is that so?"

"Yes," he agreed.

"And has she convinced you to break the sacred promise made to my father?"

She deliberately used the word "sacred," Ramsey knew, to make him feel guilty if he had indeed done such a thing.

"No, she has not convinced me to break the promise given to your father."

Bridgid was once again smiling. "Thank you, Laird, but I have taken up too much of your time. With your permission, I'll leave you now," she added.

She was halfway out of the hall before Ramsey stopped her. "You don't have my permission, Bridgid. Come back here. There is an important matter to talk about."

Brodick heard her sigh before she turned around. She obviously knew what the topic was and had hoped to avoid it.

She took her time returning to her laird. And then she simply stood in front of him, looked him in the eye, and waited for him to speak.

"There has been a request for your hand in marriage."

"I graciously decline."

"You don't even know the name of the man who wants to marry you. You cannot decline yet."

"I'm sorry," she said, though she didn't sound the least contrite. "Who is this man?"

"His name is Matthias," Ramsey said. "He's a MacPherson, and I'll admit I don't know much about him. However, I'm certain that if you agree, he will treat you kindly."

He waited a full minute for her to respond, but Bridgid remained stubbornly silent.

"Well?" he demanded. "What say you?"

"May I decline now?"

"For the love of… Do you know this man?"

"Yes, I've met him, Laird."

"Can you not find anything acceptable about him?"

"Oh, I'm sure he has many wonderful qualities."

"Well then?"

"I won't have him."

"Why not?"

"Laird, are you aware you're shouting at me?"

Brodick coughed to cover his laughter. Ramsey shot him a dark look before turning to Bridgid again. He watched her brush an errant lock of hair over her shoulder in a dainty feminine gesture, and for a second he lost his train of thought.

"You try my patience."

"I apologize, Laird. I don't mean to try your patience. May I be excused now? I've just heard that there is a lady here from England, and I must make her acquaintance."

"Why must you?" Brodick asked.

She jumped at the bark in his voice but quickly recovered. "Because I've never been to England," she explained. "And I have a thousand questions to ask her. I'm curious to know what life is like in England, and she is the only one who can tell me. I cannot imagine living anywhere but here, and I find myself wondering if she feels the same way about her home in England. I have already decided that I will like her," she added.

"Yes, you will," he predicted.

"You have much in common with Lady Gillian," Ramsey remarked. "You're both stubborn women."

"Is she being forced to marry, then?" Bridgid asked, unable to mask her irritation.

Ramsey took a step toward her. "No one is forcing you to marry, Bridgid."

"Then may I please be excused?"

"No, you may not," Ramsey snapped. "About this Matthias…"

Impatiently settling her hands on her hips, she asked, "Are we back to that?"

"Bridgid, I warn you, I will not tolerate insolence."

She was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry. I know I spoke out of turn, but I have already declined the offer."

Ramsey didn't want to give up. "Do you realize how many requests you've turned down?"

"Yes, I do."

"You've broken many hearts."

"I doubt that, Laird. None of those men know me well enough to have their hearts broken. If I could get them to stop asking, I assure you I would. It's very upsetting for me to have to go through this audience again and again. 'Tis the truth I'm beginning to dread…"

"Dread what?" he asked when she abruptly stopped.

Her face turned pink with embarrassment. "Never mind," she said.

"You may speak freely. Now tell me, what is it you dread?"

"The sight of you," she blurted. "The only time you speak to me is when you want me to hear a proposal. I know how distressing this is for you. You don't wish to waste your valuable time on such inconsequential matters."

"You are not inconsequential."

"But I am difficult, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are."

"Are we finished now?"

"No, we are not. Bridgid, don't you want to get married?"

"Of course I do. I want children," she said, her voice fervent now. "Lots of children, and I'm going to love them the way a mother should."

"Then why have you declined so many requests? If you want to have children-"

She wouldn't let him finish. "I love another."

The announcement took Ramsey by surprise. "You do?"

"Yes, I do."

"Who is this man?"

She shook her head. "I cannot say his name."

"Then marry him," he suggested impatiently.

She sighed. "He hasn't asked me."

"Does he know how you feel?"

"No, he doesn't. He's a very stupid man."

Brodick did laugh then, he couldn't help it. "Yet you love him?" he asked.

She smiled as she answered. "I do. I don't want to love him, but I do, with all my heart. I must be as stupid as he is. That is the only excuse I can give. Matters of the heart are most perplexing, and I'm not smart enough to sort them all out." Turning to Ramsey again, she said, "I will not have Matthias. I won't settle for any man I don't love."

Ramsey's reaction to her announcement puzzled him. When she had admitted she loved another man and therefore wouldn't accept Matthias, he was at first surprised, but that feeling was quickly replaced by what he could only describe as irritation. Though he couldn't figure out why, the thought of her loving someone didn't sit well with him. His reaction didn't make any sense. Here he was trying to persuade her to marry Matthias, and if she had agreed, would he have had the same disappointment? No, he thought, and all because he knew she would never agree.

Shaking himself out of his confusing thoughts, he said, "Tell me who the man is and I will speak to him on your behalf."

"I thank you for your suggestion to help, but the man I love must decide without interference."

"I wasn't making a suggestion. I was giving an order. Tell me his name."

He took another step forward, but Bridgid stood her ground. It wasn't easy. Ramsey was such a big man his nearness was overwhelming, and she had to remind herself that as her laird, it was his duty to protect her, not harm her. She was a loyal member of his family, and like it or not, he had to look out for her best interests. Besides, she knew him to be a kind, generous man. He might scare the breath out of her, but he would never raise a hand against her.

She decided to try to turn his attention in hopes he wouldn't notice she hadn't answered his demand. "Laird, where's Michael? I haven't seen him today, and I had promised him some time ago that I would take him tree climbing."

"Tree climbing?"

"All boys should know how to climb a tree."

"And you think you could show him how it's done?"

She slowly nodded.

"He's staying with the Maitlands," he said. "He and Alec have become good friends, but when Michael returns home, you won't be showing him how to climb a tree. It's unladylike, Bridgid."

"I suppose it is," she agreed reluctantly.

Ramsey once again demanded the name of the man she had declared she loved.

Disgruntled because her ploy to make him forget the question hadn't worked, she said, "I don't wish to tell you his name, Laird."

"That much is obvious," he replied. "But you're still going to tell me."

"No, I'm not."

He couldn't believe she had the audacity to defy him. "I'm not going to give up," he warned. "Tell me his name."

The man was as relentless as a dog chasing after a cat, and she had no one to blame but herself because she had foolishly told him what was in her heart.

"You have an unfair advantage," she said.

"How's that?"

"You're Laird," she said. "You can speak freely, while I-"

He wouldn't let her finish. "You've been speaking freely since the moment you came inside. Now answer my question."

His voice had a definite bite to it, and she flinched. She didn't know how she was going to get out of the corner he had backed her into.

"Unless you order me to…"

"I've already ordered you to give me his name," he reminded her.

His curtness embarrassed her. She lowered her head so he wouldn't see her face and said, "I'm sorry, but I cannot tell you his name."

Ramsey gave up and decided to let the matter go for now. He was disgusted with himself. It wasn't like him to let his temper flare with a woman. Yet, this particular woman did try his patience.

"Is it a sin to defy you, Laird?" she asked.

The question gave him pause. "No, of course not."

She smiled again. "That's good."

He let her see his irritation. "You know damn good and well it isn't."

Ignoring his comment, she said, "I've taken up too much of your valuable time. With your permission, I shall take my leave now."

She curtsied and tried to leave but he stopped her with his next remark. "If you're not going to marry Matthias, then there is another matter I wish to speak to you about."

"There is?"

"Yes."

She waited, but Ramsey couldn't seem to get the words out. How could he crush her by telling her that her mother didn't want her? He couldn't do it.

"I seem to have forgotten…"

Brodick came to his aid. "Michael."

Ramsey glanced at his friend. "Michael?"

Brodick nodded. "You were telling me you were going to ask Bridgid to help you with your brother because of his tender years, remember?"

Ramsey leapt at the idea. "Yes, that was it. Now I remember. Michael's with the Maitlands now."

"Yes, Laird, you already told me he was visiting with his friend."

"Yes, I did," he said, feeling like an idiot. "But when he comes home…"

"Yes?"

Ramsey looked to Brodick for help.

"Ramsey doesn't have time to devote to his brother, and he also feels that Michael needs a woman's influence."

"Yes, that's right," Ramsey agreed. They were both making up the story as they went along, but Bridgid didn't seem to notice.

"I would be happy to help with Michael."

"Then it's settled."

"What's settled? What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Move in here," he explained. "There are three empty chambers upstairs. Choose one and move your things in as soon as possible. You're going to have to leave your home, of course, and I know that it will be difficult for your mother and you," he added, proud of the fact that he hadn't choked on the lie.

"You want me to live here? Laird, it wouldn't be proper. People would talk."

"Then sleep with the servants in the quarters behind the castle."

She contemplated him for several seconds without saying a word, then slowly nodded. The sadness he saw in her eyes was heartbreaking, and it was then that he realized she understood everything.

Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath and said, "I'll be happy to help with Michael, but shouldn't I wait until he returns home before I move my clothes?"

"No, I want you to get settled as soon as possible."

"Then if you'll excuse me, I'll get my things now."

Ramsey granted her permission and watched her walk away. Her proud bearing impressed him, more so because he had seen the tears brimming in her eyes before she turned her back to him.

She paused at the entrance and called out, "Laird?"

"Yes?"

"Don't judge my mother too harshly. She cannot help the way she feels. She's newly married and wishes privacy with her husband. I'm in the way. Besides, it's time that I left home."

"Do you think that's the reason I asked you to move in here? Because your mother wants privacy?"

"Isn't it?" she asked. "What other reason could there be?"

Lust and jealousy, Ramsey thought, but he wasn't about to tell her the shameful truth, that her stepfather lusted after her and her own mother was jealous of her daughter's beauty.

"I've explained my reason. You will help with Michael, and that's all there is to it."

"You're a kind man, Laird," she said. "But…"

"But what?"

Her smile was fleeting. "You really don't lie all that well."

Chapter Twenty-One

Nothing was ever easy. After a long and tedious conversation with Brisbane and Otis, Gillian's head was pounding from all of their evasive answers. They were sweet, gentle men, but terribly stubborn. Though neither one of them would admit it to her, it soon became apparent that, while they knew where Christen was, they weren't going to tell until they had spoken to her and gained her permission. Gillian tried to be patient and was finally rewarded when Otis accidentally let it slip that Christen did live on MacPherson land. Gillian's heart leapt with joy, and she began to prod them relentlessly, but to no avail.

So certain was Gillian that Christen would come running as soon as she heard her sister was there, she agreed to wait until the men had talked to her. She begged them to speak to Christen as soon as possible, explaining that time was running out and that she must return to England soon. She didn't tell them why.

Feeling edgy and frustrated after the elders took their leave, Gillian wanted to be alone for a few minutes, and so she took a walk along the stone path that meandered among the buildings of Ramsey's holding. Reaching the top of a hill, she found a shady spot under a tree and sat down. She spread her skirts over the soft tufts of grass and then closed her eyes and cleared her mind, letting the mild, sweet breeze brush against her face. When she opened her eyes again, she took a long look around her. Ramsey's estate was beautiful… and peaceful. Beneath her, the people of his clan carried on the daily routine of their lives. Soldiers sharpened their weapons, while other men bent over their tools, tilling the land for their next crop. Women sat in doorways visiting as they ground the grain for their next loaves of bread, and their children skipped nearby, playing a rambunctious game with a large smooth stone and a stick.

For a brief moment, she was at peace too, taking in the tranquillity of the scene. But then her mind wouldn't let her rest. It raced with all the questions she wanted to ask Christen when she saw her again. She prayed that her sister would remember her, and that her memories would be fond ones. Liese had kept Christen's memory alive with amusing stories about the two of them. She told them over and over again so that Gillian wouldn't forget her sister. Christen didn't have anyone to help her remember, but Gillian hoped that, because she was older, she wouldn't have forgotten.

A woman's shout pulled her from her thoughts, and Gillian turned around just as a young, fair-haired lady came running up the path. Her brow was wrinkled by distress, and Gillian soon understood the reason why, for hot on her trail was a big brute of a man with a look of determination gleaming in his eyes. On closer inspection, she realized the brute was more boy than man.

"I've told you to leave me alone, Stewart, and I mean what I say. If you don't stop pestering me, I'll…"

She stopped suddenly when she spotted Gillian. Almost immediately, she smiled and hurried forward, oblivious now to her unwanted suitor. Stewart stopped and backed away to listen.

"Good day, milady."

"Good day to you," Gillian replied.

"My name's Bridgid," she said as she curtsied haphazardly. "Don't get up," she added. "You're the lady from England, aren't your?"

"Yes," she answered. "My name's Gillian."

"I've been searching everywhere for you," she said. "I was hoping that if you weren't too busy, you would take a few minutes to answer my questions about England. I'm very curious about the people who live there."

Gillian was surprised and pleased. "I'd be happy to answer your questions, though I must confess you are the very first person I've met who has shown any interest at all in my country. Do you like England then?"

"I don't know if I do or not," she answered with a laugh. "I've heard terrible stories about the English, but I'm determined to find out if they're true or not. The men here tend to exaggerate."

"I can assure you without even hearing those stories that they are false. The people of England are good men and women, and I'm proud to be one of them."

"It's noble of you to defend your countrymen."

"I'm only being honest, not noble. Tell me some of these stories and I will convince you they're false."

"If the stories are exaggerations, then I'll probably change my mind and want to see England one day, though I cannot imagine my laird would allow it. Is your country as beautiful as mine?"

"Oh, yes," Gillian replied. "It's… different, but just as beautiful."

Another soldier had joined Stewart and stood beside him gawking at Bridgid and Gillian. He, too, was little more than a boy. He was tall and gangly with splotches on his face. She thought they were being terribly rude to listen in on their conversation, and she would have shooed them away but Bridgid was ignoring them, and so she decided to do the same.

"My mother told me that husbands living in England must beat their wives every Saturday night so that their women will have done their penance before Sunday mass," Bridgid said.

The lie so amused Gillian she burst into laughter. "That isn't true. Husbands in England are kind and thoughtful and wouldn't ever harm their wives. At least most wouldn't," she qualified. "They're no different than the men who live here. They hold the same values and want the same things for their families."

"I suspected that story was made up," Bridgid admitted. "And now I'll wager the story I was told about the pope was also false."

"What were you told?"

"That our holy father placed an interdict on England."

Gillian's shoulders slumped. "Actually, that's true. The pope is having a disagreement with King John. It will be resolved soon."

"That's not what I heard," Bridgid replied.

"What have you heard?"

"That John will be excommunicated first."

Gillian made the sign of the cross, so atrocious was Bridgid's prediction. "I sincerely hope not," she whispered. "My king has enough troubles on his hands now, what with the barons rebelling."

"Your king makes his own troubles."

"But he is my king," she gently reminded Bridgid. "And it's my duty to be loyal to him."

Bridgid thought about that for a moment and then nodded. "Yes, I, too, would be loyal to my leader unless or until he did something to betray that loyalty. May I sit with you? I've just finished dragging my things to the castle, and I'm exhausted. Besides, I have a hundred more questions to ask you, and I promise none of them concerns your king, for I can see that topic makes you uncomfortable."

"Yes, please do sit with me," Gillian said. Then she spotted Stewart running toward Bridgid. The other young man followed in his wake. "Oh, dear, the scoundrels are coming."

As Gillian stood up, Stewart lunged and grabbed Bridgid around her waist. She let out a yelp and tried to pry his arm away. "Let go of me, Stewart."

"You heard her," Gillian ordered, determined to help. "Get away from her."

Stewart grinned at Gillian. "This here is between Bridgid and me. I'm wanting a kiss, that's all, and then I'll let her go. Maybe I'll steal a kiss from you too. You're as pretty on my eyes as Bridgid is."

"Will you get away from me? You smell like a wet dog." Bridgid muttered.

The young man who had joined Stewart now raced forward. "You already caught a woman. I'll catch the other," he boasted. "And I'll steal a kiss from her."

Stewart howled in pain as he let go of Bridgid and jumped back. Staring down at his arm, he shouted, "You bit me. You little…"

Her hands on her hips, Bridgid whirled around to confront her offender. "You little what?"

"Bitch," he mumbled.

Shocked by the insult, Gillian's hand flew to her throat and she gasped, but Bridgid didn't seem to be the least bit offended. Shaking her head, she said, "If you were not such a stupid little boy, I would immediately report you to our laird, Stewart. Now go away and leave me alone. You're a nuisance."

"You're fair game," he told her. "I'm no such thing," she scoffed.

"Yes, you are. I saw you carrying your clothes up the hill. Your mother tossed you out on your ear, didn't she? And you ain't married, so that makes you fair game. I'm not a boy," he added, scowling now. "And I mean to prove it to you. I'm getting my kiss, with or without your permission."

"Then I'm getting my kiss too," the other soldier boasted, though Gillian noticed he kept swallowing loudly and glancing over his shoulder, obviously to make sure he wasn't being overheard.

"That boy's name is Donal," Bridgid said. "He's as young and ignorant as Stewart." She leaned into Gillian's side and whispered, "Are you afraid? If you are, I'll call for help."

"I'm not afraid. I am vexed, though. These boys need to learn some manners."

Bridgid grinned. "What say you we toss them down the hill?"

The plan sounded outrageous and fun, and Gillian was sport enough to give it a try. She followed Bridgid's lead and slowly backed up until the two of them were close to the slope.

Donal and Stewart, grinning like lunatics, moved forward. With the crook of her finger, Bridgid bid them to keep coming.

"Do what I do," she whispered to Gillian, and then she ordered Stewart to turn around and close his eyes, promising him that she would give him a reward.

As eager as puppies waiting for a meaty bone, the two boys turned.

"Quit peeking," she ordered. "Close your eyes tight."

"Are you ready?" Gillian asked Donal.

He was vigorously nodding when she gave him a hard shove backward. Bridgid pushed Stewart at the same time. Donal went flying, but Stewart proved to be far more agile. With a shout of victory, he put his foot back to keep from falling, then whirled around to watch his friend rolling down the hill. Bridgid and Gillian seized on his inattention. Lifting their skirts, they kicked him soundly in his backside and sent him on his way.

Unfortunately, Bridgid lost her balance in the process. She'd rolled halfway down the hill before she could stop. Her shrieks of laughter echoed through the treetops. Gillian, thinking to help, chased her, tripped on her own skirt, and ended up crashing into Bridgid.

They were both covered in grass, dirt and leaves, but neither one of them cared. They were so overcome with laughter and making such a racket the soldiers in the fields below paused in their training exercises to look up at them. The women tried to gain control, but when they sat up and spotted Donal and Stewart running away, the sight so amused them, they became hysterical again.

Bridgid wiped the tears away from her face. "I told you they were stupid."

"Yes, you did," Gillian agreed as she staggered to her feet. She heard her blouse rip, looked down, watched her left sleeve fall to her waist, and began to laugh again.

"Do I look as horrible as you do?" Bridgid asked.

"You've got more leaves than hair on your head."

"Stop," Bridgid pleaded. "I cannot laugh anymore. I've got a stitch in my side."

Gillian put her hand down for Bridgid to clasp and pulled her to her feet. Her friend was several inches taller than she was, and she had to look up at her as they walked side by side up the hill.

"You're limping," Bridgid noted. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Gillian began to laugh again. "I've lost my shoe."

Bridgid found it and handed it to her. Just as Gillian was bending down to put the slipper on, Bridgid grabbed her arm and whispered, "Dear Lord, don't look."

"Don't look where?" she asked, squinting against the sunlight at the soldiers below.

"One of the Buchanan soldiers is watching us. Oh, heavens, I think it's their commander. He's standing at the top of the hill. Don't look," she whispered when Gillian tried to turn around. "Do you think he saw what we did?"

Gillian pulled away from Bridgid and turned around to look. "It's Dylan," she said. "Come, I'll introduce you. He's really quite nice."

Bridgid took a step back. "I don't want to meet him. He's a Buchanan."

"Yes, he is."

"Well then, he can't possibly be nice. None of them are," she added with a nod. "But you're from England, and so you wouldn't know…"

"Know what?"

"That they're… ruthless."

Gillian smiled. "Is that so?"

"I'm telling you the truth," Bridgid insisted. "Everyone knows they're all brutal. How could they not be? They follow their leader's example, and Laird Brodick Buchanan is the most frightening man alive. I know what I'm talking about," she insisted. "I could tell you stories that would turn your hair gray. Why, I've known women who have burst into tears just because Laird Buchanan glanced in their direction."

Gillian laughed. "That's absurd."

"It's true," Bridgid continued. "I was in the hall speaking to my laird, and he was there."

"And did he make you cry?"

"No, of course not. I'm not a weakling like some of the women here. But I'll tell you this. I couldn't look him in the eye."

"I promise you, he isn't so fierce."

Bridgid patted Gillian's arm and gave her a look that suggested she thought she was terribly naive. Then she glanced at the top of the hill again. "Oh, dear, he isn't leaving. I think he's waiting for us."

Gillian latched onto Bridgid's arm and pulled her along, forgetting for the moment that she still held her shoe in her other hand. "I promise you that you'll like Dylan."

Bridgid snorted. "I doubt that. Gillian, do listen to me. Since you're going to be my friend, I must advise you to stay clear of all the Buchanans, especially their laird. He won't hurt you, but he'll scare you half to death."

"I don't scare easily."

"I don't either," she said. "You just don't understand. Take my advice and stay away from him."

"That's going to be difficult."

"Why?"

"I'm betrothed to the man."

Bridgid stumbled and would have fallen down if Gillian hadn't held tight to her arm. Bridgid gasped, then burst into laughter. "For a minute there, I thought you were serious. Do all the people in England have your wicked sense of humor?"

"It's the truth," Gillian insisted. "And I'll prove it to you."

"How?"

"I'll put the question to Dylan, Brodick's commander. He'll tell you."

"You're daft."

"You want to know something else positively shocking?"

"Of course I do."

"I love Brodick."

Bridgid's eyes widened. "You love Laird Buchanan. Are you sure you don't have him mixed up with someone else? All the women love Ramsey. They don't love Brodick," she explained authoritatively.

"I don't love Ramsey. I like him," she replied. "But Brodick-"

Bridgid interrupted her. "You cannot possibly know what you're-"

"Getting into?" Gillian supplied when Bridgid didn't finish her thought. "Odd, but those were Father Laggan's very words to me. I do know what I'm doing, though. If I'm able to accomplish a… task… in England and come back here, I will marry Brodick."

Bridgid kept laughing. She absolutely refused to believe Gillian was serious, so outrageous was the notion that any sane woman would willingly pledge herself to such a man.

They argued all the way up the hill. Bridgid wanted to take a wide path around Dylan, but Gillian wouldn't let her. She made her face the commander.

Dylan did look a little fearsome, she supposed, with his legs braced apart and his arms folded across his chest. He towered over the two of them and appeared to be angry, but Gillian knew it was all bluster.

"Good day, Dylan," she said. "I'd like you to meet my friend, Bridgid. Bridgid, this impressive soldier is Dylan, and he's commander over all the Buchanan soldiers."

Bridgid paled. Bowing her head, she said, "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

Dylan didn't say a word, but he did incline his head ever so slightly. Gillian found his arrogance delightful.

"Lady Gillian, what happened to you?"

"You didn't see the men-"

Bridgid shoved an elbow into her side. Dylan's frown intensified. "What men?" he demanded.

She turned to Bridgid. Her friend promptly stepped forward to answer. "The men in the fields. We saw them."

"Didn't you?" Gillian asked.

"Didn't I what, milady?"

"See the men… the men in the fields," she stammered, trying desperately to maintain a straight face.

"Of course I saw them," he replied, clearly exasperated. "I see them now. I'm asking you-"

"But that's what we were doing," Bridgid volunteered.

"Yes," Gillian agreed, nodding vigorously. A dried leaf floated down from her hair in front of her face, and she giggled. "We were watching the soldiers."

"You aren't going to tell me what happened, are you?" he asked.

A dimple appeared in her cheek, and Dylan tried not to notice how attractive it was. She was his laird's woman, and he shouldn't be thinking about anything but protecting her. Still, it was a point of pride that Brodick had managed to capture such a beautiful woman.

"No, I'm not going to tell you."

"But you will tell Brodick, won't you?"

"No, I don't believe I will."

"I'll wager you will."

"Ladies don't make wagers," she replied before turning the subject. "Dylan, I have a request to make."

"I'll do whatever you ask of me," he replied, his tone once again formal.

"I told Bridgid that I was betrothed to Brodick, but she doesn't believe me. Would you please confirm it for her? Why are you looking so surprised?"

"You think you're betrothed to…"

"Brodick," she supplied, worried now because of his poor attempt to cover his amusement.

"I knew you made it up," Bridgid said, nudging Gillian again. "She has a wicked sense of humor," she told Dylan.

"I didn't make it up. Dylan, tell her."

"To my knowledge, milady, you are not betrothed to Laird Buchanan."

"I'm not?" she whispered.

"No, you're not," he confirmed.

Her face turned scarlet. "But I thought… the priest was there… I saw him bless…"

Realizing she had just made a complete fool of herself, she stammered, "Then I was wrong. I would appreciate it if you didn't mention this to Brodick," she hastily added. "I don't want him to think I'm an… idiot. It was just all a misunderstanding, and I thank you for clearing the matter up."

"But, milady-"

She put her hand up. "I really don't want to talk about this any longer."

"As you wish."

Gillian had trouble getting past her embarrassment but tried to pretend that she hadn't thoroughly humiliated herself in front of the commander. Noticing her sleeve was back down at her elbow, she tugged it up to her shoulder and let out a sigh.

"Brodick would like to speak to you," Dylan said, finally remembering why he'd come after Gillian.

Realizing she still held her shoe in her hand, she took hold of Dylan's arm to balance herself as she bent down to put her slipper back on.

"Where is he?"

"In the courtyard with Ramsey."

"Bridgid and I are going to the lake. I really would like to change into clean clothes before I see him."

"Brodick doesn't like to wait, and I'd like for him to see you in your present condition," he admitted with a grin.

"Very well," she agreed.

Bridgid kept silent until Dylan had bowed and taken his leave. "Count yourself blessed," she said.

"I feel like such a fool. I really thought Brodick and I were betrothed. He did ask me to marry him. Honestly. No, that isn't quite true. He told me he was going to marry me."

"You cannot be upset about this."

Gillian shrugged. "I don't know what to think or feel," she said. "Come. We mustn't keep Brodick waiting. He lacks patience."

Bridgid walked by her side along the curving path. "I don't know if I should admire you or feel sorry for you."

"Why?"

"Because you looked disappointed."

"I was embarrassed."

"Oh, I know all about that. Today I was thoroughly humiliated. Did you hear what Stewart said? My mother tossed me out of her home… I thought it was my home too, but she corrected that misconception. If Stewart knows, then everyone else does too. And do you know what's worse?"

"What?"

"My laird knows. He had me move my things to the castle, using the excuse that he needed someone to help with his brother, Michael, but that isn't the reason. It was my mother. She asked him to do something about me."

"Do something?"

"Those were the words she shouted at me while I was packing. She's disgusted with me because I've refused to marry."

Bridgid explained the details, and by the time she was finished, Gillian forgot all about her own embarrassment. "Your mother was wrong to make you leave your home."

"She wants me to be Ramsey's problem," she said. "My mother's newly married, and I'm a difficult daughter."

They strolled along the path, stirring the scent of the bordering flowers with the rustle of their skirts and sharing confidences in whispered voices, as comfortable with one another as if they were already old friends. Neither Bridgid nor Gillian wished to hurry. Bridgid wanted to pour her heart out to someone who wouldn't judge her, and Gillian wanted to forget her own problems for a while.

"So you see, I can't blame my mother. She cannot help the way she feels. I'm weary of talking about my problems. I want to hear more about you. Do you really love Brodick?"

"Yes, I do."

"Have you known him long?"

"Actually, no, I haven't known him long at all."

"There you have it," Bridgid exclaimed. "When you get to know him, you'll come to realize it was just an infatuation."

Gillian shook her head. "I didn't choose to fall in love with him. It just happened, but I do love him with all my heart."

Bridgid sighed. "I, too, am in love," she admitted.

Gillian glanced at her. "You don't sound very happy about it."

"I'm not. I'm plain miserable, as a matter of fact. I don't want to love him."

"Why not?"

"Because he doesn't love me."

"Are you sure?"

"He's a very stupid man."

Gillian laughed. "Yet you love him."

"I do."

"Who is he?"

"A Sinclair."

"Does he know how you feel about him?"

"No."

"Are you going to tell him you love him?"

"I've given the matter a great deal of thought, and I've tried to get him to… notice me. I've been hoping that he would be perceptive, you see, but thus far he hasn't figured it out."

"I think you should tell him. What have you got to lose?"

"My self-respect, my dignity, my pride, my-"

"Never mind, then."

"I know you're right. I should tell him. If I continue to wait, I'll be an old woman before he gets around to realizing I'm the best thing that ever happened to him. No one will ever love him the way I do. I know all of his faults, and there are many, I assure you, but still I love him."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When will you tell him?"

"Oh, I won't."

"But you just said-"

"That I should tell him. I won't do it, though. What if he doesn't want me to love him? He may not even like me. Come to think of it, I don't believe he does. He's always telling me how difficult and stubborn I am."

"Then he is noticing you, isn't he?"

"Yes, but only as a nuisance. The men here court the ladies. Is it the other way around in England?"

"No, it's the same."

"Then he should chase me, shouldn't he? No, I won't tell him how I feel. When did Brodick tell you he loved you?"

Three soldiers came striding up the path, and Gillian waited until she wouldn't be overheard before she answered, "He hasn't told me he loves me, and to be completely honest, I'm not sure that he does. I know he's fond of me, though."

"Yet you told him you loved him?"

"Yes, I did."

Bridgid was clearly impressed. "You're more courageous than I am. The fear of being rejected pains me to even think about, yet you boldly told Brodick how you felt, even though he hadn't spoken his feelings."

"Actually, he told me I loved him."

Bridgid laughed. "How like a man. They're all arrogant, you know."

"Most are, anyway," Gillian agreed. "But Brodick also happened to be right, and when he pressed me to admit I loved him, I did. I couldn't lie to him."

"And he told you he was going to marry you. It's terribly romantic, but it's also a little… shocking."

"Why?"

"Because he's a Buchanan. May I ask you a personal question… really personal? You don't have to answer it if you don't want to," she hastened to add.

Gillian could hear the hesitation in Bridgid's voice. "What is it you wish to know?"

"Has Brodick ever kissed you?"

"Yes, he has."

"What was it like?"

Now Gillian's face felt warm. "It was very nice," she whispered. She glanced at Bridgid and grinned. "The man can make me shiver just by looking at me."

Bridgid sighed with longing. "I've only been kissed once, and he didn't make me shiver. I wonder what it would feel like if the man I love kissed me."

"Your knees will go weak, your heart will race, and you won't be able to catch your breath. And do you know what else?"

"What?"

"You'll never want the kiss to end."

They sighed in unison, then laughed over their own behavior. Bridgid turned the topic then when she commented, "I have never understood how Ramsey and Brodick could be such close friends. They're nothing alike."

"Oh, I think they have a lot in common."

"No, they don't. Ramsey's generous to a fault, and kind, and thoughtful-"

"So is Brodick," Gillian insisted. "He just growls while he's being generous to a fault and kind and thoughtful. Ah, there's the man of my dreams now," she added with a laugh.

Brodick and Ramsey were crossing the courtyard when they spotted Gillian and Bridgid strolling toward them. The warriors came to an abrupt stop.

"We can't possibly look that bad," Gillian remarked as she brushed her hair over her shoulder.

"Oh, yes, we do," Bridgid replied. She turned to Gillian and tried to help her pull her sleeve up to her shoulder, but the material immediately drooped back down to her elbow.

"What the hell happened to you?" Brodick demanded in a lion's roar.

Bridgid grimaced at the sound of his voice.

"Bridgid, explain yourself," Ramsey demanded.

Gillian leaned into her side and whispered, "What say we toss them down the hill?"

Bridgid bit her lower lip to keep herself from laughing as she followed Gillian across the yard.

"I asked you a question. What happened to you, Gillian?" Brodick repeated.

She stopped several feet away from the men, gave up trying to repair herself and folded her hands together. Bridgid moved to stand by her side.

"What makes you think something happened?" she asked innocently.

Given their appearance, Ramsey thought the question ludicrous.

Brodick wasn't amused, however. He took a step toward Gillian. "Your gown's torn; your face is covered with dirt, and your hair is full of grass and leaves." The smudge on the side of her nose was driving him to distraction. He reached for her chin and used his thumb to wipe the dirt away. The sparkle in her eyes sidetracked him, and he couldn't make himself let go of her. In a much softer voice he asked her yet again to tell him what had happened. "Dylan said that you mentioned something about men on the hill with you. Who were they and what did they do?"

"There weren't any men with Bridgid and me."

"Gillian…"

"There weren't any men with us."

Before he could press her further, she placed her hand on his chest, leaned up on tiptoes, and whispered into his ear. "I was having a lovely time, and that's all there is to it. I missed you, though. Did you miss me?"

"I'm a busy man," he replied gruffly, trying to ignore her wonderful scent. Her hand was warm against his skin, and it occurred to him then how he liked her casual and open show of affection. He'd learned early on to shield his feelings, and it had become second nature for him to back away. She was the complete opposite. All he had to do was look at her face to know exactly what she was thinking and feeling. There was no speciousness or guile in her. She was refreshingly honest, headstrong, and apparently unafraid. She was also irresistible. He hadn't even had time to guard himself; she'd gotten to his heart that quickly.

She tried to step back, but his hand covered hers against his chest.

"Do you think you could spare me a moment of privacy?" she asked.

"For what purpose?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper again, her sweet breath tickling his ear. "I wish to shamelessly throw myself into your arms and kiss you passionately until your head begins to spin."

She kissed him on his cheek and stepped back, looking quite pleased with herself.

"And you believe you can accomplish all of what you have just proclaimed in one minute?"

"I do."

"Accomplish what?" Ramsey asked.

Brodick grinned, "She thinks she can-"

"Brodick!" She cried out his name with a gasp.

"Yes?"

"What I said was private."

Ramsey let the matter go. "Gillian, all of the Sinclairs will gather here at sunset."

She had trouble concentrating. The way Brodick was looking at her made her stomach flutter. It was sinful, really, the effect he had on her.

"I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"Everyone will be here at sunset," he patiently repeated.

"Men and women?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Perhaps you'll see your sister then," Bridgid exclaimed.

"Yes," Ramsey replied, smiling over her enthusiasm. Directing his question to Gillian he asked, "Did Brisbane and Otis tell you she was here?"

"Not exactly," she replied. "One of them let it slip that he knew who she was, though, and when I pressed, he said that if the woman was indeed Christen, then she lives on MacPherson land. I don't know how far away that is."

"Not far," Ramsey said.

"If you'll excuse me, I'd like to go to the lake with Bridgid and wash. I must do something about my appearance before sunset."

"Not yet," Brodick said as he grabbed Gillian's hand, practically swept her off her feet, and headed toward the castle. She had to run to keep up.

"What are you doing?" she whispered.

He didn't answer her. Throwing open the door, he gave her a decisive jerk. The entrance was dark and musty when the door slammed shut behind them. She could barely see him as he backed her against the door, braced his hands over her head, and leaned into her. She could feel the heat and strength in him, yet he was so incredibly gentle when he touched her.

"It's your minute, Gillian. Are you going to waste it or are you going to make good your boast."

Suddenly feeling a bit uncertain, she battled her shyness and then slowly reached around his neck and buried her fingers in his hair drawing him closer. Her mouth touched his. Her teeth caught his lower lip and gently tugged on it. She heard his sharp intake of breath and knew her boldness had pleased him. Tightening her grip, she tilted her head back, opened her mouth, and kissed him with uninhibited enthusiasm. His knees buckled.

Trained to be the aggressor, he couldn't let her have the upper hand. Growling low in his throat, his strong arms lifted her up as his mouth slanted over hers again and again, his tongue sweeping inside to duel with hers, his control damn near shattered when she made that seductive sound of pleasure. He couldn't get enough of her. His hands stroked her back, then moved lower to lift her up against his groin.

They were both panting for breath when she ended the kiss. She clung to him, her faced pressed into his neck as she placed fervent kisses along the column of his throat.

"Don't let go of me," she whispered, knowing that if he did, she'd collapse. The kiss had temporarily robbed her of her strength, and yet all she could think about was kissing him again. She was thoroughly wanton and didn't care a twit.

"Never," he answered. "I'll never let go of you."

He slowly eased her down until her feet were touching the floor again, but he continued to hold her in his arms as he nuzzled the side of her neck. Her sigh was filled with longing.

Reluctant to let go of him, she lay her head down on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Her hand rested over his heart, and she could feel the rapid beat.

"I did make your heart race, didn't I?"

"Yes," he admitted. "You're a temptress, Gillian. You cannot kiss me like that and expect to go on your merry way."

"What would you have me do?"

God, she was innocent. "I'll explain tonight," he promised.

He slowly pulled her arms away from him and reminded her that she was going to the lake with Bridgid.

She had turned toward the doors when he stopped her. "Dylan told me he thought some of the Sinclair soldiers were bothering you."

"There weren't any men with Bridgid and me," she told him once again. "But if there had been and they had been bothering me, I would have handled them."

"No, you would not," he insisted. "You would tell me who they were and I would handle them."

"And what would you do?"

He didn't have to think about his answer long at all. "If any man ever touched you, I would kill him."

The glint in his eyes and the set of his jaw told her he was serious. He suddenly looked quite dangerous. She wasn't the least afraid and she wasn't about to back down.

"You cannot kill-"

He wouldn't let her finish. "It's the Buchanan way," he said emphatically. "You belong to me, and I would not allow any other man to touch you. Now enough of this. There's something I've been meaning to tell you, and now is just as good a time as any."

She waited a long minute for him to continue before she prodded him. "Yes?"

"We do things different here."

"We?"

"The Buchanans," he qualified. "When we want something, we take it."

"That doesn't seem right."

"It doesn't matter if it seems right or not. It's what we do."

"But it does matter. You could get into trouble with the Church if you take something that doesn't belong to you."

"I'm not worried about the Church."

"You should be," she countered.

Gritting his teeth, he said, "Don't argue with me."

"I'm not arguing. I'm simply stating fact. You needn't get surly."

He gripped her shoulders and hauled her close. "I'm starting over. I'm going to explain, and I want you to follow along."

"Are you insulting me?"

"No, sweetheart. Just listen."

She was so surprised by the endearment, her eyes got misty. "All right," she whispered, "I'll listen. What is it you want to explain?"

"You told me you loved me. You did admit it, didn't you? You can't take the words back."

His vulnerability was showing, and she immediately sought to assure him. "I don't want to take the words back. I do love you."

He relaxed his grip on her arms. "Tonight…"

"Yes?"

"I… that is, we… ah, hell."

"Brodick, what in heaven's name is wrong with you?"

"You," he muttered. "You're what's wrong with me."

She pushed his hands away. "Your moods change with the wind. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important things to do than to stand here and listen to you grumble at me." She swung around, pulled the door open with both hands, and marched outside.

He gave up. He knew he'd made a muck of things, but he figured everything would work tonight. Gillian was an astute woman. Surely by the time he'd taken her clothes off her and carried her to bed, she'd have worked it all out in her mind. If not, then he'd tell her.

Ramsey walked inside, saw Brodick, and immediately guessed what had happened. "You still didn't tell her, did you?"

"No, but God knows I tried."

"It's simple enough, Brodick."

"No, it isn't."

"How about, 'Gillian, you're married'? How complicated is that?"

"I'm telling you, I tried, damn it. If you think it's so easy, you tell her."

Ramsey laughed. "By God, you're afraid to tell her, aren't you?"

"Of course not."

"Yes, you are. What do you think she'll do?"

Brodick quit trying to bluster his way through the conversation. "Yes, I am afraid. She'll run. She'll panic, and then she'll try to run. Damn it, I tricked her, and I shouldn't have done that."

"You also deceived a priest."

"Yes, well… I'm more worried about Gillian. I'm telling you, I shouldn't have tricked her. It was wrong."

"But you'd do it again, wouldn't you?"

With a shrug he admitted he would. "Yes. I can't imagine living without her, and if you laugh at me for admitting such a weakness, I swear I'll put my fist through your face."

Ramsey slapped Brodick's shoulder. "Take heart," he suggested.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Gillian might panic when she first hears she's married to you. Hell, any woman would."

"Ramsey, you're not helping."

"But she won't run, Brodick."

"I'll tell her at supper. Yes," he added with a firm nod, "I'll tell her then."

Brodick all but ripped the door off its hinges as he pulled it open to leave.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The anticipation of finally being reunited with her older sister was almost more than Gillian could handle. As she dressed to meet Ramsey's followers, her hands actually shook and her stomach felt as though it were filled with butterflies.

She wore a golden colored gown with embroidered threads along the hem of the skirt and the wristband of the fitted sleeves. A servant helped her pleat the Buchanan plaid around her waist and drape one end over her shoulder. The fabric was secured with a braided leather belt.

Gillian still wasn't ready to go downstairs just yet, and so she stayed in the chamber Ramsey had assigned to her at the end of the hallway, pacing back and forth in front of the hearth and rehearsing what she would say when she greeted Christen.

Bridgid was sent up to get her. She opened the door, took a step inside, spotted Gillian in the firelight of the hearth, and came to a sudden stop. "Oh, Gillian, you look beautiful. The color suits you."

"Thank you, but I'm pale in comparison to you."

Bridgid laughed. "Aren't we a pair? Praising one another like silly girls."

"I'm sincere. You look radiant, and the man you love will surely notice you tonight."

Bridgid snorted. "I predict he will continue to look right through me. He always does. I'm getting used to it," she added with a nod. "Are you ready to go downstairs?"

"Yes," she answered as she turned to put her brush back on the chest. She steadied her hands and forced herself to take a deep breath. "I'm so excited about seeing my sister again I'm actually trembling."

"Do you think you'll meet her tonight?"

"I do," she answered. "And I've been practicing what I will say to her. I want our reunion to be perfect, and I want her to like me. Isn't that a foolish worry? Of course she'll like me. I'm her sister, for heaven's sake."

"Come along," Bridgid said then. "We mustn't keep Laird Ramsey waiting. Brodick's with him, by the way, and so are Brisbane and Otis. I'll warn you none of them look very happy. Something's wrong, but no one will tell me what it is. I'll wager it has to do with the MacPhersons, though. That man Proster is always making trouble. Anthony and Faudron are constantly complaining about him and his cohorts."

"Who are Anthony and Faudron?" Gillian asked as she pinched her cheeks for color and followed Bridgid out the doorway.

"They're Gideon's close friends, and Gideon is-"

"Ramsey's commander."

"Yes," Bridgid said. "You rarely see one without the other two, and whenever Gideon is away from the holding, then Anthony takes over his position."

When they reached the bottom step, the door opened and a soldier came hurrying inside. He was tall, thin, and had deep creases in his brow.

"That's Anthony," Bridgid whispered. "I'll introduce you after you've spoken to Ramsey. You shouldn't keep him waiting."

The men were at the far end of the hall. Ramsey and Brodick stood together talking in low whispers while Brisbane and Otis sat at the table watching the lairds. The old men looked as though they'd just lost their best friend. Otis noticed her coming toward them, nudged his friend, and then stood up.

Gillian's smile of greeting faltered when she saw Brodick's expression. He looked furious, and after she had bowed to Ramsey, she folded her hands together and waited to find out what was wrong.

The duty of breaking her heart fell on Brodick's shoulders, and he decided to get it over and done with as quickly as possible. "Your sister has refused to meet with you."

She wouldn't believe what she had just heard. She made him repeat the news.

"Why would she refuse to see me?"

Brodick looked to Brisbane for an answer. The old man scraped his chair on the floor as he pushed it aside and rounded the table. With a long face, he explained, "She's been a MacPherson for almost as long as she can remember, and she feels no loyalty to England."

"What about her family?" Gillian cried out. "Does she feel no loyalty to me and our Uncle Morgan?"

"Her family is here," Brisbane said. "She has a mother and father and-"

She cut him off. "Her mother and father are buried in England."

Brisbane 's shoulders sagged even more than was their usual inclination. "And she has a husband," he hurriedly added. "She is… content."

"Content? She's content?" she repeated in a near shout. The picture of her Uncle Morgan came into her mind and she began to shake with fury. A kind, gentle man's life was at stake, and Gillian didn't care how content Christen was.

She took a step toward Brisbane, but Brodick stopped her by putting his arm around her waist and pulling her into his side.

"Try to understand, Lady Gillian," Brisbane pleaded.

"I don't have time to understand," she countered. "I must speak to my sister as soon as possible."

"Did she tell you she wouldn't see Gillian or did her husband speak for her?" Brodick asked.

The question surprised Brisbane, and he mulled it over for several seconds before admitting, "Her husband explained. She didn't speak at all, but she was there, and she heard every word he said. If she didn't agree, she could have protested."

"Does she know that I only want to talk to her? That I won't make any demands?"

"Yes, I told her that you only wanted to see her again, but I don't think she or her husband believed me. Remember, lass, in the past there have been inquiries about her whereabouts. She fears you'll force her to return to England or tell others where she is."

Gillian put her hand to her forehead. "I would do no such thing."

She leaned into Brodick and tried to think. How could she rid her sister of her fears? And how could Christen believe that her own sister would betray her?

"Ramsey?" Brodick called out. "What the hell are you going to do about this?"

"I'll give her one day to change her mind."

"And if she doesn't?" Brisbane asked.

"Then I'll speak to her on Gillian's behalf. If she still refuses, I'll order her to come forward. If I have to drag her here, I will. I would prefer, however, that she come to this decision on her own."

"Her husband won't like it," Brisbane blurted.

"I don't give a damn if he likes it or not," Ramsey said.

"He's a proud MacPherson." Otis stepped forward to join in the heated discussion.

"He's a Sinclair now," Ramsey snapped. "He pledged his loyalty to me, did he not?"

"All the MacPhersons did," Brisbane said.

"The MacPherson soldiers are all loyal to you, Laird," Otis said. "But since you have brought up this issue, I will tell you that every one of them has been made to feel as though they are outcasts, especially the soldiers. Your commander, Gideon, and his soldiers, Anthony and Faudron, constantly ridicule and mock their efforts. The MacPhersons have still not been trained properly, and I tell you this, there will be an insurrection if something isn't done and soon."

Ramsey didn't immediately respond to the fervent speech, but Brodick knew he was furious.

"Are you suggesting that Ramsey pamper or give special consideration to the MacPherson soldiers?" Brodick asked.

Otis shook his head. "I'm suggesting they only be given a fair chance to show their strength."

"Tomorrow I will take charge of the training, and when Gideon returns, I'll discuss the problem with him," Ramsey stated. "Does that satisfy you?"

Otis appeared vastly relieved. "Yes, thank you."

Brisbane sought to be as accommodating as Ramsey. "With your permission, Laird, I would like to return to Lady Gillian's sister first thing in the morning. I'll stress the fact that Lady Gillian has promised me she only wants to talk to her sister." He looked pointedly at Gillian when he made the last remark.

"Yes, that is all I want," she assured him.

After Ramsey agreed, Brodick said, " Brisbane, when you speak to her, make certain her husband isn't in the room. He could be making the decisions for her."

"Why do you think that?" she asked.

"It's what I'd do."

"But why?" she pressed.

"Your sister's husband would certainly try to protect her."

Brisbane rubbed his jaw. "Now that I reflect upon the meeting, I'll tell you I believe that's exactly what happened. I don't believe she had a say in the matter."

What they said made sense, and Gillian began to relax. She grabbed hold of the idea that it was Christen's husband who was denying her and not her sister. She didn't fault the man, for as Brodick had suggested, he was only trying to protect his wife. But she believed with all her heart that if she could just spend a few minutes with Christen, she would be able to put her fears to rest.

"You're going to have to be patient a little longer," Brodick said.

"I don't have time to be patient."

He kissed her forehead and whispered, "I don't want you to worry about this tonight. Put it aside for now. Tonight should be a joyous occasion."

"Why? What happens tonight?"

Her face was turned up toward his, and he simply couldn't resist the temptation. He kissed her sweet, soft lips. Because they weren't alone, he didn't deepen the kiss, but it damn near killed him, and when he pulled back, his frustration was palpable. He wasn't used to denying himself, and even though he only had to wait a few more hours to make her completely his, he was tense in anticipation.

And worried. In truth, he wasn't sure how she was going to react to finding out she was married, and the not knowing was making him as edgy as a caged animal.

He swallowed, took a deep breath, and then said, "Gillian, I have something to tell you." He cleared his throat again and said, "I want you to know that…"

"Yes?"

"You see… damn, your eyes are pretty."

What in heaven's name was the matter with him? If she didn't know better she would have thought he was actually nervous. That was ridiculous of course, because Brodick was one of the most self-assured men she'd ever known. She waited another couple of seconds for him to tell her what was on his mind, then tried to help him. "Did you want to tell me something about tonight?"

Sweat broke out on his brow. "Yes," he said. "It's about tonight." He gripped her arms as he added, "I don't want you to be upset. What's done is done, and you're just going to have to come to terms with it."

Thoroughly confused, she asked, "Come to terms with what?"

He let out a loud sigh. "Hell," he muttered. "I cannot believe I'm having so much trouble getting the words out."

"Brodick, what's going to happen tonight?"

Brisbane and Otis were hanging on their every word, but Ramsey diverted their attention by escorting them outdoors. Having privacy didn't make Brodick's task any easier, and he decided to wait a little longer. He'd do it during supper, he decided. Yes, he'd take her aside and tell her then.

"I asked you a question," she reminded him. "What happens tonight?"

"You're going to make me very happy."

It wasn't what he said but how he said it, in such a sensual gruff whisper, that sent tremors racing through her middle. All he had to do was look at her with those beautiful eyes of his and she melted. His smoldering gaze robbed her of the ability to think. She couldn't even remember what he had just said to her, and since he seemed to need a response, she said on a sigh, "That's nice."

Chapter Twenty-Three

For the next two hours Gillian stood on the steps with Ramsey at her side as each man came forward to meet her. Brodick stood behind her, and when weariness set in and she began to shift her weight from foot to foot, he coaxed her to lean back against him.

A good number of the followers brought their wives with them, and Gillian noticed that all the females stared starry-eyed at Ramsey and warily at Brodick.

How in heaven's name was she going to find the traitor among so many? Impossible, she thought, as impossible as finding a Highlander who was fond of King John.

It seemed to her that she looked at a thousand faces by the time sunset colored the sky. The light was rapidly fading, and with Ramsey's command, soldiers lit fiery torches around the perimeter of the courtyard and the edge of the path beyond.

"What reason did you give your followers for assembling?" she asked Ramsey in a whisper.

"I didn't give them a reason," he replied. "They're here because I have requested their presence."

His arrogance made her smile. Then Brodick, gruff as usual, suggested she pay attention to the task at hand.

Yet another hour passed as she greeted each man and woman who came forward. Her stomach began to rumble, and she was shivering from the cold breeze, so she pressed her back against Brodick to gain more of his heat.

There was one moment of levity. The two boys who had tried to steal kisses from her and Bridgid came forward together. They looked as though the blood had drained from their faces as both, with eyes bulging, stared at Brodick.

"Good evening, Donal," she said.

The soldier's knees buckled and he went down hard. His friend grabbed him by the arm and hauled him upright, but he never once looked at him. No, his gaze was glued to Brodick.

"Do you know this man?" Ramsey asked.

Donal held his breath while he waited for her to answer. She heard Bridgid laugh.

"Yes, I do know him. I was introduced to him earlier today."

"And the other one?" Brodick asked.

Stewart looked as if he were going to cry. "I met him as well," she said.

"Where did you meet them?" Brodick asked, a decided chill in his voice now. "Were you on the hill by chance?"

She gave him an. indirect answer. "Donal and Stewart are friends of Bridgid's. She introduced me to them."

"Gillian…"

She put her hand on top of Brodick's. "Let it go," she whispered.

He decided to let her have her way. The last group to come forward was led by an angry looking young man with an arrogant swagger much like Brodick's. His brown hair hung down in his face as he strutted forward, gave a curt nod to his laird in lieu of a formal bow, and then turned to leave.

Ramsey stopped him. "Proster, come back here."

The soldier stiffened, then did as he was ordered. The young men who had come forward with him quickly moved back to give him room.

"Yes, Laird?"

"You and your friends will train with me tomorrow."

Proster's demeanor changed in a flash. He acted as though he'd just received manna from heaven.

"All of my friends with me now? There are eight of us."

"All of you," Ramsey said.

"And will I have an opportunity to fight you, Laird?"

"You will."

"But eight men against one. It hardly seems fair."

"To you or to me?"

"The numbers are in our favor, not yours," the soldier pointed out.

Ramsey glanced at Brodick. "Are you interested?"

"Definitely," Brodick answered.

Ramsey turned back to the soldier. "Laird Buchanan will join me. Don't worry, Proster. I won't let him kill you or your friends."

The young soldier openly scoffed at the notion. "I look forward to sparring with both of you on the battlefield. Do you wish to fight with weapons or without?"

"You may use your weapons if that is your inclination. Laird Buchanan and I will use our bare hands."

"But, Laird, when I… I mean to say, if I beat you, I want it to be fair."

Ramsey smiled. "I assure you it will be fair," he said. "Be on the field at dawn."

Proster bowed and then went hurrying away with his comrades, no doubt to plan their strategy for tomorrow's games.

Bridgid had watched and listened to the exchange from the side of the steps. She couldn't stop herself from interfering. "Laird?"

"Yes, Bridgid?"

"Proster and his friends will use their swords. How can you defend yourself against them?"

Gillian responded as well. Whirling around to confront Brodick, she said, "Don't you dare hurt those boys."

"You aren't concerned that they will have weapons?"

"We both know that you and Ramsey will rid them of their swords before they've even gotten them out of their scabbards. I mean what I say, Brodick. I don't want you to hurt them. Promise me," she insisted.

He rolled his eyes. "When Ramsey and I are finished with them, their arrogance and insolence will be gone. That I promise you."

Ramsey was in full agreement. "They'll have humility when they leave my battlefield."

The discussion ended when another group of latecomers hurried forward to bow to their laird. Ramsey watched Gillian for some sign of recognition, but she shook her head.

Feeling as though she had somehow failed, she whispered, "I'm sorry. I don't see him."

"I thought for certain you'd recognize one of Proster's friends," Ramsey admitted.

"You don't believe they're loyal to you?"

"They have resisted the union of the clans," he explained. "Still, I find I'm glad it wasn't one of them. They're very young, and I would hate…"

He didn't give her any further explanation, and she didn't press him.

Brodick said what she was thinking. "You're so certain it's a MacPherson?"

"I was," he admitted. "I'm not any longer. Hell, the Hamiltons or the Boswells could be hiding the bastard. Both clans have good reason to want to see the union with the MacPhersons fail."

The men continued to discuss the matter as they went in for the banquet the servants had prepared. Gillian wanted Bridgid to join them at the supper table, but she had disappeared. Gillian didn't see her again until the meal was over.

Her friend motioned to her from the back hallway.

"Gillian, may I have a word in private with you?" Bridgid asked. "I was listening when Brisbane told you that your sister refuses to see you, and I wanted you to know how sorry I am. I know you must be terribly disappointed."

"I was disappointed," she replied. "But I'm still hopeful that she'll change her mind."

"Ramsey will order her to come forward. I heard him say so."

"Yes, but not until the day after tomorrow at the earliest. He wants to give her a chance to do the right thing, I suppose. Still, I hate having to wait."

"If you knew where she lived, what would you do?"

Gillian didn't have to think about her answer. "I would immediately go to her. I don't have unlimited time to wait for her to change her mind."

"I might be able to help you," Bridgid whispered. "Anthony also heard what Brisbane said, and he's offered to follow him tomorrow morning when he goes to plead with your sister again."

"Will he get into trouble for doing me this favor?"

"He thinks he's doing me the favor," Bridgid explained. "Besides, Anthony's second-in-command under Gideon, and he can pretty much do whatever he wants. If anyone gets into trouble, it's going to be me, but I'm not worried because no one's going to find out. Anthony will tell me where she lives, and then I'll tell you. If my laird bows to pressure from Brisbane and decides to delay your meeting with Christen, then you can take matters into your own hands."

"Why would he bow to pressure?"

" Brisbane is an elder in the MacPherson clan, and my laird respects him. He also doesn't want to order Christen if he doesn't have to. Her family has gone to great lengths to make sure her identity has remained secret."

"I'm her family."

"I know," Bridgid whispered. She patted Gillian's hand. " Brisbane could come back with Christen tomorrow."

"But you don't think he will, do you?"

"She's remained hidden for years. No, I don't think she'll willingly come."

"Will you take me to her?"

"Yes."

"I want to go tomorrow afternoon."

"You've been ordered to wait."

"Not ordered," Gillian argued. "Brodick suggested I be patient."

"All right, then. We'll go tomorrow afternoon."

Gillian glanced at Brodick, then whispered, "I'm going to have to figure out a way to get rid of Brodick's men. They follow me like shadows."

"They didn't follow you to the lake."

"No, of course not. They knew I was going to bathe."

Bridgid grinned. "Well then? Simply tell them you're going to the lake."

"I hate having to lie to them. I've become quite fond of Brodick's guard."

"But if we do go to the lake first, then you wouldn't have to lie, would you?"

Gillian burst into laughter. "You have the mind of a criminal."

"What are you two whispering about?" Ramsey called from the table.

"Foolish matters," Bridgid replied. "Laird, Fiona has graciously offered to sew some new gowns for Gillian so that she won't have to borrow from others, but she needs to measure her. Could we see to this chore now? It shouldn't take long."

As soon as they were out of earshot, Ramsey asked Brodick, "When are you going to get the names of the Englishmen from Gillian? Iain grows impatient. He wants to move, and so do I."

"Tonight," Brodick promised.

"The women have prepared one of the new cottages for you and Gillian, unless you'd rather use one of the chambers upstairs."

"The cottage will afford more privacy," Brodick said. "But I'd rather we stayed outside."

"Your bride deserves a bed on her wedding night," Ramsey said, and Brodick nodded in agreement.

The revelry began with Father Laggan's arrival. Calling out his congratulations, he demanded supper, and while the servants saw to the priest's needs, Brodick paced and waited for Gillian.

In a very short while, the hall was filled with Sinclairs. Brodick's soldiers didn't mingle with the others until kegs of ale were carried in and a rowdy Sinclair boasted that he could arm wrestle any Buchanan to the floor without breaking a sweat. Black Robert meant to prove him wrong, and the game was on.

When Gillian came downstairs, for a second she thought she was back at the Maitlands'. The noise was certainly just as deafening. She stared into a sea of faces and spotted Father Laggan in a corner eating and drinking. He pushed the bench back as he stood to wave and beckon her forward. Gillian grabbed Bridgid's hand and threaded her way toward him.

Ramsey watched Gillian bow to the priest, then nudged Brodick so he'd turn around. "Laggan's with Gillian."

"Ah, hell."

"You really ought to tell her before the priest lets it slip. He's bound to say something."

Brodick pushed through the crowd to get to Gillian. One of the MacPherson soldiers was having a heated argument with a Sinclair, and just as Brodick reached them, the two men lunged with fists at one another.

Ramsey moved forward with lightning speed. "This is a celebration, not a brawl," he muttered in disgust as he grabbed the Sinclair by the back of his neck with one hand and took hold of the MacPherson's neck with his other. With the flick of his wrists he slammed their heads together, then shoved them apart and watched them crash to the floor. The blow rendered both men unconscious.

With a grunt of approval, Brodick continued on. Ramsey ordered the fallen men removed from the hall and then hurried after his friend. Nothing was going to prevent him from seeing Gillian's reaction when Brodick finally found the gumption to tell her the truth.

The priest was busy chiding Bridgid because she was still unmarried. "It's your duty to wed and have children," he said. "It's what God intended."

"I do plan to marry, Father," she countered, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks. "As soon as I am asked by the right man."

"She's in love, Father," Gillian interjected. "And she's hopeful that the man she's given her heart to will marry her."

"Does this man know you would marry him?" the priest asked. He took a long swallow of his drink while he waited for her to answer.

"No, Father, he doesn't know."

It was apparent from the way Bridgid was squirming that she didn't want to talk about marriage any longer, and so Gillian stepped forward.

"Father, I made a foolish mistake today."

The priest scowled. "It's a little late for second thoughts, lass."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. I asked you if you knew what you were getting into and you said… No, I believe it was Brodick who said that you did. You told me in your own words that you loved him."

He was becoming highly agitated. "It was just a misunderstanding," she said. "But when I asked Dylan, he cleared it up for me."

The priest cocked his head to the side. "What misunderstanding are you talking about?"

"It's silly, really, and embarrassing. You see, when you blessed Brodick and me, I jumped to the conclusion that we were betrothed. I told Bridgid that we were, but she didn't believe me, and so I asked Dylan to confirm it for her. That was the misunderstanding," she added, her voice trailing off, for she had just noticed how dumbfounded Father Laggan looked.

The poor man was choking on his wine. He'd taken another drink just as she'd said the word "betrothed."

His eyes bulging, his face bright red, he stammered, "You're telling me… you're saying you thought you were betrothed to the Buchanan?"

Gillian wished he hadn't shouted the question because he'd drawn attention to them. Brodick's guard was already moving toward her. She hastily smiled at Dylan to let him know everything was all right, then turned back to the priest. In a low whisper, she said, "I did think that, but Dylan cleared the matter up for me."

Father Laggan shoved his goblet at Bridgid and then folded his hands together as though in prayer. His gaze piercing now, he demanded, "And how did the commander clear up the matter for you?"

Gillian was thoroughly confused by the priest's behavior. He was acting as though she had just confessed an obscene sin. "He told me I wasn't betrothed."

"She isn't, is she?" Bridgid asked.

"No, she isn't," he snapped. Then in a whisper, he said, "Good Lord Almighty."

"Excuse me?"

"You aren't betrothed, lass…" The priest clasped one of Gillian's hands in both of his and gave her a sympathetic look. "You're married."

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said you're married," he repeated in a shout. He was so rattled he could barely control his temper. "That's why I blessed you. You said your vows."

"I did?"

"Yes, you did, lass. I asked you if you had been coerced, and you assured me you hadn't… and there were witnesses."

"Witnesses?" she stupidly repeated.

"Aye," he agreed. "Don't you remember? You and the others had just ridden to the rise above the holding… that's when I joined you, and the Buchanan took hold of your hand…"

"No," she whispered.

"It was proper and binding."

She frantically shook her head. "I cannot be married. I would know if I was… wouldn't I?"

"It was sheer trickery," the priest cried out. "Good Lord Almighty, the Buchanan tricked me, a man of the cloth."

The priest's explanation was finally settling in her mind, and with the realization came a blinding burst of fury that almost knocked her over.

"No!"she shouted.

A servant happened by with a tray full of goblets brimming with wine. Bridgid grabbed one and thrust it into Gillian's hand.

Before she could drink it, the priest snatched it out of her hand and gulped it down. She reached for another. And it was at that precise second that Brodick, with Ramsey hot on his heels, reached her side.

"Gillian-"

She whirled around to face him. "We were married today?"

"Yes," he answered calmly as he took the goblet away from her and handed it to Ramsey.

"On a horse? I was married on a horse?"

Ramsey passed the goblet to Bridgid before turning to Gillian. "We should celebrate this joyous occasion," he suggested with a straight face. Gillian looked as if she wanted to kill the groom; Brodick looked stoic, and the priest appeared to be on the verge of hysteria.

"This can be undone," Father Laggan threatened.

"The hell it can," Brodick snapped.

"What's done is done," Ramsey interjected.

The priest glowered at him. "Has this marriage been consummated?"

Ramsey raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me?"

Gillian's face turned scarlet. Bridgid, taking mercy on her, handed her another full goblet of wine.

Brodick stopped her hand as she raised it to her lips. He grabbed the goblet, thrust it toward Ramsey, and then said, "You will not get drunk. I want you clearheaded tonight."

She was so angry, tears blurred her vision. "How could you?" she whispered. "How could you?" she repeated in a shout.

"You're upset…" Brodick stopped to give Ramsey a hard shove. "This isn't funny, damn it," he muttered.

"You're upset? That's the best you can come up with to calm your bride?" Ramsey asked.

"I'm not his bride," Gillian cried out.

"Now, sweetheart," Brodick began again without having the faintest idea what he could say that would calm her. "You're going to have to come to terms with this."

"No, I'm not," she declared emphatically.

It was apparent she wasn't in the mood to listen to anything he had to say. When he tried to take her into his arms, she backed away, stepping on Father Laggan's foot in the process.

"I asked a question, and I demand an answer," the priest snapped. "Has this marriage been consummated?"

Since he was staring at Bridgid, she thought he expected her to answer. "I honestly don't know, Father. I don't believe I should know… should I?"

Father Laggan grabbed the goblet out of Ramsey's hand and emptied it in one huge swallow. Ramsey quickly snatched another full goblet from the tray and gave it to the priest.

Laggan, beside himself with the ramifications of the Buchanan's deceit, wasn't paying any attention to what they were doing. "In all my days, I've never… It's the Buchanan who's responsible…" He quit rambling as he reached for the sleeve of his robe and began to vigorously mop his brow. "Good Lord Almighty. What's to be done?"

"On a horse, Brodick?"

"She's having a bit of trouble getting past that fact," Ramsey remarked dryly.

"You could have gotten off the mare," Brodick told her, trying to be reasonable. "If you'd wanted to get married with your feet on the ground, then you should have said something."

She really wanted to throttle him. "But I didn't know I was getting married, did I?"

"Gillian, there isn't any need to snout. I in standing right in front of you."

She threaded her fingers through her hair in frustration and tried to gain control of herself.

"We knew," Ramsey volunteered.

It suddenly dawned on her that there was an audience watching and listening to every word. She was surrounded by Brodick's guard, and as she glanced from face to face, she vowed that if one man dared to smile, she would start screaming.

"Did all of you know?" she demanded.

Every last one of them nodded. Then Brodick commanded that she look at him. Her eyes blazed with anger when she complied. "I didn't know," she cried out. "You tricked me."

"No, I didn't," he countered. "I told you I was going to marry you, didn't I?"

"Yes, but I-"

He wouldn't let her finish. "And you told me you loved me. Isn't that also true?"

"I've changed my mind."

He took a step toward her and gave her a hard look to show he wasn't happy with her answer. Under his penetrating stare she couldn't continue to lie. "Oh, all right," she relented. "I do love you. There, are you happy now? I love you, but only God knows why because I certainly don't. You're the most difficult, stubborn, arrogant, mule-headed man I've ever known."

He seemed unimpressed with her tirade. "We're married now, Gillian," he said in a calm voice that made her want to tear her hair out.

"Not for long," she threatened.

He didn't like hearing that. He looked as if he was going to grab her, so she quickly backed away and put her hand out in a puny attempt to ward him off. "You stay where you are," she demanded. "When you touch me, you know I can't think, and I need to think clearly now so I can figure out what to do."

Ramsey handed the priest yet another drink.

Father Laggan's head was reeling from the Buchanan's trickery and the heavy wine. Believing it was his duty to look out for the poor lass, he mopped the sweat from his forehead with the cowl of his robe and stepped forward to take charge.

"Has this marriage been consummated?" he demanded, unaware he'd shouted the question.

Gillian was mortified. "Should you be asking me such a personal question in front of a crowd?"

"I've got to know," the priest whispered loudly. "Lord, it's hot in here," he added, his voice slurred. He then wiped the back of his neck with his hood as he repeated his question. "Was it consummated?"

Gillian answered in a bare whisper. "No."

"Then it's possible that I can undo this tangled mess."

"You'll do no such thing," Brodick commanded.

The priest squinted up at the Buchanan laird and tried to bring the giant into focus. "Good God Almighty, there's two of them." Shaking his head in an effort to clear it, he said, "You used deception to catch this sweet lass."

Brodick didn't deny the allegation but merely shrugged. Father Laggan turned to Gillian to console her in her darkest hour. "You've got to stay away from him, lass, until I can figure out how to straighten this out. Do you understand what I'm telling you? You can't let him touch you if you're truly wanting out of this union. You've just got to stay away from him, lass. I can't stress that enough," he added as he patted her hand. "Once he's… and you've been… well, you see, don't you, I can't have it undone. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"Yes, Father, I understand."

"All right, then. Now you sleep on the problem, and tomorrow we'll put our heads together and decide what's to be done. I've never encountered a situation like this before, and it shocks me, yes it does, but I shouldn't be shocked at all because it's the Buchanans you see, and their laird's the worst of the lot. They're all heathens," he added with a nod. "Tricking a man of the cloth. Wait until my superiors hear about this. Why, I'm certain they'll figure out a way to remove the blessing from this union. I just may petition the pope to excommunicate every last one of them."

"Oh, Father, please don't do that. I don't want the Buchanans to get into trouble with the Church."

Brodick heard every word of the exchange and was highly amused by the priest's fervent speech. Leaning toward Ramsey, he asked, "Where is it?"

His friend understood what he wanted to know and in a low whisper answered him.

Gillian's wrath was now directed at Dylan. Poking him in the chest, she demanded, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't ask me, Lady Buchanan."

"I'm not your Lady Buchanan," she cried out, so rattled her words tripped over each other.

"Don't you want to belong to us, milady?" Robert asked.

"I don't want to belong to anyone."

"Then why did you marry our laird?" Liam asked.

"I didn't know I was marrying him."

"We knew," Aaron cheerfully announced. "We want to keep you, milady," Stephen interjected. "You love our laird. We all heard you say so."

"Aye, we heard you," Robert agreed. "And you belong to us, milady."

Perhaps it was because they were all pressing in on her looking so earnest and worried that she couldn't hold on to her anger any longer. She did love Brodick, and she did want to be married to him. Now and forever. Dear God, they'd all made her daft.

Father Laggan sagged onto the bench and braced one hand on his knee. "You'd best bolt your door tonight," he suggested. "Do you understand what I'm telling you? You've got to stay away from him."

"Gillian?"

"Yes, Brodick?"

"I want a word in private with you. Now."

She wasn't given time to think about it. Clasping her hand, he marched out of the hall dragging her along with him.

As soon as the doors closed behind them, a resounding cheer went up. Bridgid was thoroughly perplexed. What in heaven's name was there to cheer about?

Father Laggan had also watched the couple leave. Shaking his head he cried out, "Didn't the lass hear a word I said? Good Lord Almighty."

Ramsey suggested a toast then. Bridgid thought he was crazy. Hadn't he been listening to the conversation? "Laird, I believe you should wait until Laird Brodick and Gillian come back before you give a toast. As to that, why would you toast them? Didn't you hear what Father Laggan said? Tomorrow he's going to… Why are you smiling?"

"Ah, Bridgid, I forgot how innocent and naive you are," Ramsey said.

"I'm not so naive."

"Are you waiting for Gillian to come back?" When she nodded, he laughed. "But you're not naive?"

"No, I'm not," she insisted.

"Then you understand."

"Understand what?"

He laughed again. "They aren't coming back."

The priest continued to shake his head. "Good Lord Almighty. He's got her now."

Chapter Twenty-Four

He swept her off her feet and carried her into the night. She put her arms around his neck and patiently waited for him to tell her where he was taking her. In truth, she had already come to terms with the inevitable. She loved this man with all her heart, and at the moment that was all that mattered.

She traced a line down the side of his face with her fingertip to get his attention. "Brodick?"

"You will not argue with me," he commanded. "You're sleeping with me tonight and every night for the rest of our lives. Understand me?"

She didn't protest or scream, which surprised him.

A moment passed in silence and then she said, "I have just one question for you."

He warily glanced down at her. "What is it?"

"What am I going to tell our children?"

He came to an abrupt stop. "What?"

"You heard me. What am I going to tell our children? I refuse to tell them I married their father while I was riding a horse, but then you'll probably expect me to give birth on a horse too, won't you?"

His eyes were filled with tenderness when he replied to her outrageous question. "I think we should concentrate on making my son before we worry about what we're going to tell him."

She kissed the side of his neck. "Then I'm in trouble."

"Why? "he asked.

"I can't concentrate when I'm around you, but I'll do my best."

He laughed. "That's all a man could want."

"You aren't always going to get your way."

"Sure I am."

"Marriage is about compromise."

"No, it isn't."

She bit his earlobe. "Nothing's changed, you know. I'm still going back to England to finish what I've started."

"Everything's changed, sweetheart…"

Following Ramsey's directions, Brodick veered off the main path and continued down the hill. A gray stone cottage sat at the bottom isolated from the other homes and surrounded by thick, towering pines. He flung the door open and carried his bride inside. Then he kicked the door shut, leaned back against it, and let out a sigh of male satisfaction.

The cottage was warm and cozy and smelled faintly of freshly cut wood. A fire crackled in the hearth and gave an amber glow to the room. The mantel was covered with candles, and after putting Gillian down, Brodick went to light them. She stood by the door and watched, suddenly feeling shy and nervous, her attention fully centered on the plaid-covered bed adjacent to the hearth. The cottage had seemed quite roomy until Brodick began to move around. He took up a good deal of the space, and the bed seemed to take up the rest.

Gillian saw her satchel on the floor next to the little table in the corner of the room. She thought she should probably get her sleeping gown out, but then how could she possibly change her clothes with Brodick just a few feet away and no privacy screen to separate them?

She couldn't do it. The walls seemed to be closing in on her. She backed up until she was pressed against the door. Then she reached behind her for the door latch. Calm down, she told herself, as she began to take rapid breaths. She was suddenly having difficulty drawing in enough air, and she couldn't understand why. The faster she inhaled, the less air she got.

Brodick took one look at her and knew she was in a panic. He blamed himself, for he had allowed her time to think, and that was his mistake. He went to her, tilted her head up so she could look at him, and then gently pried her hand away from the door. Her panting escalated until she sounded like a trumpeter.

"Having a little trouble, are you, sweetheart?"

The amusement in his tone irritated her. "I cannot breathe," she gasped. "You could show a little sympathy."

He laughed right in her face. Astounded by his callous attitude, she stopped panicking. "Does my fear amuse you, Brodick?"

"Yes, but you love me anyway, don't you?"

His hands moved to her waist, and he pulled her forward as his mouth settled possessively on top of hers. She was tense against him, almost rigid, but he wasn't in any hurry, and after lazily exploring her mouth for long minutes without rushing or making any other demands, he felt her relax in his arms.

He wanted to woo her with sweet, loving words so that she would know how much she meant to him, but he didn't know what to say because he was unschooled in the gentle ways of seduction. He was a warrior, a savage and a heathen, just as Father Laggan had said, and for the first time in his life, he wished that he knew the poetic jargon that came so easily to Ramsey.

He was making a sacrifice for her. Going slowly was a first for him, but important and necessary because she was a virgin and he knew she had to be scared of the unknown.

He was driving her crazy with his gentle caresses and his sweet kisses. Tearing her mouth away from his, she demanded that he stop teasing her. She pulled on his hair and sought his mouth again and was richly rewarded for her impatience. With a low growl mingled with laughter, he gave her what she wanted. He kissed her hungrily and deeply, his tongue stroking and coaxing, and she began to tingle everywhere. Her heart pounded, her stomach fluttered, and she was suddenly gripping his shoulders so that she wouldn't fall down.

Lord, did he know how to kiss. She moved restlessly against him, giving him all the encouragement he needed, and he continued to devour her as he quickly undressed her. So consumed was she by the passion he elicited, she didn't realize what he was doing until he was pulling her undergarment down over her arms.

She tried to push his hands away and tell him to wait until she was under the covers, but he kept kissing her and tugging on her clothes, and before she could draw a breath and demand that he wait, it was too late and she was stripped bare. How he had managed to get her shoes and stockings off without her knowing was beyond her.

He'd removed his own clothes too. She realized that when he roughly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. He groaned from the touch of her soft breasts against him; she sighed from the heat of his body against hers.

His hands were suddenly all over her. He stroked her shoulders, the curve of her spine, her silky thighs.

Their kisses became wild, ravenous, and when they drew apart, they were both panting for more. Gripping her shoulders, he whispered, "You set me on fire."

She didn't know if that was good or bad, and she didn't care. She wrapped her arms around his middle and kissed him with all the longing and passion he had ignited inside her.

Brodick was shaken to the core, for he had never had a woman react the way his sweet bride did. He buried his face in her neck, inhaled her womanly scent, and believed that this was as close to heaven as he was ever going to get.

"Damn," he whispered again. "We've got to slow down."

"Why?" she demanded.

It took all he had to concentrate enough to answer her. "Because I want this to be perfect for you."

She stroked his back, nearly overwhelmed by the strength in him. She could feel his muscles rippling under his skin, and, Lord, the heat of his body pressed intimately against hers was making her so incredibly hot she wanted to close her eyes and let the feelings rioting through her body take control.

"It already is perfect," she whispered. "Take me to bed now."

Her beautiful green eyes were misted with passion. Arrogantly pleased that he could rattle her as much as she rattled him, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to bed.

Her hands shook when she cupped his face and sought his mouth again for another deep kiss. He didn't stop kissing her as he tore the covers back and fell into bed with her cushioned in his arms, then gently rolled her onto her back and covered her with his body. The feel of her soft skin was almost more than he could bear, and he actually shook with his desire. She was pinned beneath him, but he braced his arms on either side of her so that his weight wouldn't crush her. Her glorious hair spilled across the plaid, and when he lifted his head and looked at her, he saw that she was smiling.

"I've got you right where I want you, Brodick," she whispered.

"Nay, my sweet, I've got you where I want you." And then he began to nuzzle the side of her neck, as he once again tried to think of the poetic words she deserved to hear. "You please me, Gillian."

She tilted her head to give him better access to her neck, shivering when he kissed the sensitive spot just below her ear.

"Tell me what you like," he ordered gruffly.

With a sigh of longing, she answered, "You. I like you."

He continued his tender assault on her senses, stroking and kissing her until she nearly was consumed. Her toes rubbed against his legs restlessly, and she began to caress his back, loving the feel of his hard body under her fingertips. How could anyone this strong be so amazingly gentle?

His touch became more demanding and far more intimate, jarring her out of her sweet lassitude. His hands stroked her thighs, then moved between to caress the heat of her. She nearly came off the bed. She tried to move his hand away, but he silenced her protest with another deep kiss. And still he continued his erotic love play until she was shaking with her need.

She gripped his shoulders, kissing him almost frantically now, desperately wanting to please him as much as he was pleasing her, but she didn't know what she was supposed to do, and she couldn't seem to think long enough to ask.

He was driving her out of her mind, and she could feel her control slowly slipping away. Frightened by the intensity of the raw emotions erupting inside her, she cried out, "Brodick, are we supposed to be doing this?"

He slowly moved down her body, his mouth hot against her skin as he placed wet kisses along her collarbone.

"Hush, love, it's all right. We can do whatever we want to do," he said in a ragged voice. He tried to control his pace, but it was the most difficult thing he'd ever had to do. His heart was pounding furiously, and he was hard and hot. He was throbbing with his need to be inside her.

Loving her was going to be the death of him, but damn, he'd die happy.

"I want to please you," he whispered. "Tell me," he demanded as one hand slid down between the fragrant valley of her breasts. "Does this make you happy?"

A scant second after asking the question, his mouth covered her breast. She reacted as though she'd just been struck by hot, white lightning. She sucked in her breath, groaned low in her throat, and dug her fingernails into his shoulders.

She squeezed her eyes shut and breathlessly answered him. "Oh, yes, that makes me happy."

He nipped the skin above her navel, causing the muscles to flex. Her indrawn breath told him she liked that too, and so he did it again.

"Then this is going to make you delirious," he said, using the promise she had often used on him. He slowly moved lower, caressing and kissing her intimately until she was writhing in his arms.

Never in her wildest fantasies had she ever imagined making love to be like this. She never could have believed she'd completely lose her control either, but she did just that. He wouldn't let her hold back, and as he made love to her with his mouth, she arched up against him, screamed his name, and scored his shoulders with her nails.

Her response fueled his own. He couldn't wait any longer to make her his. His hands shook, and he wasn't at all gentle as he pushed her legs apart and positioned himself between her thighs. Covering her mouth with his, his hands gripping her hips, he tried to enter her slowly, thinking that it would be less painful for her, but then she moved ever so slightly, and that was all it took. He was lost. Thrusting deep, he penetrated her completely and captured her soft cry with another hungry kiss. His tongue delved into her sweet mouth to coax a response and make her forget the pain he had caused.

He stayed completely still, his discipline in threads now, and burying his face in the crook of her neck, he took deep, ragged breaths to try to make himself slow down. She needed time to adjust to his invasion, but damn, it was killing him not to move. She was so hot and wet and tight and perfect. He knew he'd hurt her, and he hoped to God that the pain would soon be forgotten. Damn, she felt good.

The pain had taken her breath away, but it receded almost immediately. The feel of him inside of her thrilled and frightened her. He made her throb with desire for more, but Brodick wasn't moving, and he seemed to be having trouble breathing. She began to worry that she hadn't pleased him at all.

"Brodick?" she whispered his name, letting him hear the fear in her voice.

"It's all right, love. Just don't move… just let me… ah, hell, you moved…"

She had shifted slightly, then gasped, shocked by the incredible sensation the movement caused. A burst of raw pleasure coursed through her body so intensely she cried out. She tried to lie perfectly still, but she couldn't control the fire burning inside her now. She moved again and the pleasure intensified.

He groaned in reaction. He was planted solidly inside her, yet still he tried to temper the ravenous demands of his body. Then she moved again, and the battle to take it slow and easy was lost. His discipline vanished. He slowly withdrew, then sank deep inside her again.

She thought that was the most amazingly wonderful thing he had ever done. She became wild, for the erotic feelings controlled her movements now. Instinctively she drew her legs up to take him deeper inside. The more aggressive he became, the more uninhibited she became until she was mindless to anything but finding a release to the burning sensations. Sobbing his name over and over again, she clung to him when the first tremors ignited, squeezing him tightly inside her.

Terrified by the magnitude of her climax, she tried to stop it, but he wouldn't let her retreat. He stoked the fires of passion with each hard thrust. She screamed his name as wave after wave of ecstasy poured over her, and only then when he knew she had found her fulfillment did he give in to his own. With an almost violent shudder, he thrust deep and poured his seed into her.

He didn't move for long minutes. The only sound was harsh panting as each tried to recover. Gillian was overcome by what had just happened. She continued to hold on to him as she tried to calm her racing heart.

Brodick wanted to kiss her and tell her how much she had pleased him, but he couldn't find the strength to move. He heard her whisper, "Good Lord Almighty," and he laughed, but he still couldn't make himself move, and so he kissed her earlobe and stayed where he was.

"I knew you'd be good, but damn, Gillian, I didn't know you'd kill me."

"Then I made you happy?"

He laughed again and finally lifted his head and looked at her. Her eyes were still misty with passion, she looked thoroughly ravaged, and he suddenly thought it might be a good idea to make love to her again.

"Yes, you made me very happy."

"I didn't know… when you… and then I… I didn't know we could do… what we did… I didn't know."

His hands cupped the sides of her face, and he kissed her lazily and thoroughly. When he shifted his position ever so slightly, his chest hairs tickled her breasts, and she sighed in reaction. He kissed her again then rolled to his side and pulled her into his arms.

He felt an overpowering possessiveness. He didn't know how he had managed to capture her or why she loved him, but she belonged to him now. She was his wife and for the rest of his life he would protect and cherish her.

She stroked his chest as she snuggled closer to him and closed her eyes. She was just drifting off to sleep when a sudden thought jarred her wide awake. "Brodick, what am I going to tell Father Laggan tomorrow?"

In graphic detail, using every lusty word he could think of, he described what they had just done and then suggested she simply repeat those words to the priest.

She told him she'd do no such thing, and after mulling the matter over in her mind for several minutes, she decided she wasn't going to tell him anything at all.

"I don't want Father to remove the blessing," she worried out loud.

With a yawn, he answered, "He won't."

"You tell him."

"All right," he agreed. "Now you tell me."

"Tell you what?" she whispered.

"That you love me. I want to hear the words again."

"I love you."

She fell asleep waiting for him to tell her that he loved her.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Loving Brodick was exhausting. She didn't get much sleep that night, unaccustomed as she was to having a man in her bed, a big man at that, who took up most of the space. Every time she tried to move, she bumped into him. She finally slept pinned under one of his hard thighs.

Brodick wasn't used to sleeping in a bed, and so he had just as much trouble. It was too soft, and he much preferred the ground outdoors with the brisk wind cooling his body and the stars to gaze at until he drifted off, but he wasn't about to leave his bride on their wedding night, and so he stayed where he was and dozed off and on. In between he made love to her. He tried to be gentle because he knew he'd hurt her the first time he'd mated with her, and Gillian was too sleepy at first to resist him; then she was too caught up in the magic of his touch to care if he hurt her or not.

She was dead to the world when he finally got out of bed. He was late meeting Ramsey on the field-dawn had already come and gone-and after kissing Gillian on her forehead, he covered her with the plaid blanket and then quietly left the cottage.

The training session went well in spite of the fact that he was in such a good mood. He really didn't want to hurt anyone. Ramsey did most of the damage and impressed the MacPherson boys in no time at all. Brodick did accidentally break the nose of one of the MacPherson soldiers with his elbow, but he snapped it back in place with his hand before the soldier could regain his feet and told him he'd be as good as new once the bleeding stopped. It wasn't an apology, but it was damned close, and Brodick began to worry that marriage had already turned him into milk toast.

Ramsey of course noticed his cheerful disposition. He took great delight in ribbing him about showing up late and yawning every other minute until Brodick seriously considered breaking one of Ramsey's bones.

When the training session had begun, Proster, the leader of the faction, refused to use a weapon against the laird. He was being honorable, and foolish, for though he was vastly superior to the other MacPherson soldiers in skill and technique, he wasn't by any means Ramsey's equal. After his laird had knocked him to his knees a couple of times, Proster's cloak of arrogance began to shred. All of the other soldiers reached for their swords, thinking that would give them the advantage, but Proster still stubbornly refused.

It didn't really matter, though. Brodick and Ramsey quickly disarmed all of the soldiers, and then got down to the business of teaching them how to stay alive on the battlefield. It was a lesson in humility, and by the time the two lairds strolled off the field, the ground behind them was littered with groaning bodies.

The two friends went to the lake to wash the blood off them. They passed Bridgid on their way back. She greeted Ramsey with a curt nod, smiled at Brodick and wished him a good day, and then continued on with her head held high.

"What was that all about?" Brodick asked. "She seems irritated with you."

Ramsey laughed. "That's an understatement. She's furious with me, but because I'm her laird, she has to be civil. I think it must be killing her. Did you see the fire in her eyes? She's something else, isn't she? That smile of hers could make a man…"

"What?" Brodick prodded.

"Never mind."

"You want her, don't you?"

Ramsey didn't have to guard his words with his friend, and so he was bluntly honest. "Sure I want her. Hell, she's a beautiful woman, and most of the men here want to bed her. God help the man she ends up with, though, for I swear she'll lead him a merry chase."

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Sighing, Ramsey admitted, "I embarrassed Bridgid. The widow Marion wanted to warm my bed," he explained. "Bridgid must have seen her going into my chamber and she went in after her. Honest to God, Brodick, I've never seen such a temper in a woman before. Bridgid rivals you," he added. "Poor Marion wanted to be discreet and had gone to considerable trouble making certain no one knew she was going to share my bed, and then Bridgid marched in there and made such a ruckus, all hell broke loose. Marion had already gotten undressed and was waiting in bed for me, and that shocked the hell out of Bridgid, and it also infuriated her. She thought I was being… duped. Will you stop laughing so I can finish this?"

"Sorry," Brodick said, though he didn't sound the least contrite. "What happened then?"

"Bridgid dragged Marion out of bed, that's what happened. By the time I got upstairs, Marion was running down the back steps, screaming at the top of her lungs and only barely clothed. Fortunately the hall was almost empty and Father Laggan had already passed out."

"And?"

"I slept alone."

Brodick laughed again. "No wonder you're in such a foul mood today."

"That I am," he agreed. "Bridgid seemed to think that I should have thanked her for saving me from Marion."

"But you didn't."

"Hell, no, I didn't."

"Did you explain that you had invited Marion to share your bed?"

"Yes, I did, but that was a mistake. I'm never going to understand women," he said, his voice bleak now. "I swear Bridgid looked… wounded. I hurt her and I…"

"What?"

Ramsey shook his head. "Bridgid is innocent and naive."

"But you still want her in your bed, don't you?"

"I don't take virgins to my bed. I would never dishonor Bridgid in such a way."

"Then marry her."

"It's not that simple, Brodick."

"You still getting pressured to marry one of the MacPhersons?"

"Meggan MacPherson," he countered. "And I am still considering it. It would solve a lot of problems, and I have to do my duty as laird. I want their land and resources, and I also want peace. It seems the only way to get that is to join the clans by marriage."

"What's this woman like?"

"Admirable," he replied. "She wants the best for her clan. She's strong and stubborn," he added. "But she doesn't have Bridgid's…"

"What?"

"Fire."

"When will you decide?"

"Soon," he replied. "Enough talk about me," he added as he turned the conversation to what he considered a much more serious matter. "Did Gillian give you the names of the Englishmen?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"I forgot to ask," he admitted sheepishly.

Incredulous, Ramsey stared at him for several seconds and then snapped, "How could you forget?"

"I was busy."

"Doing what?" Ramsey asked before he realized how foolish the question was. Now he sounded as naive as Bridgid.

Brodick glanced at him. "What the hell do you think I was doing?"

"What I wasn't," Ramsey replied drolly.

They walked along in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Brodick had always been able to tell his friend whatever was on his mind, but he was hesitant now as he asked his advice.

"Marriage changes a man, doesn't it?"

"You should ask Iain that question, not me. I've never been married."

"But you're more astute about these matters than I am, and Iain's not here."

"Matters of the heart?"

"Yes."

"You've only been married one day," Ramsey pointed out. "What is it you're worried about?"

"I'm not worried."

"Yes, you are. Tell me."

"I've just noticed…"

"What?" Ramsey asked in exasperation.

"I'm… cheerful, damn it."

Ramsey laughed. Brodick didn't appreciate his friend's reaction. "Look, forget I said anything. I'm not used to talking about such…"

"You never talk about what you're thinking or feeling. I shouldn't have laughed. Now tell me."

"I just did," he growled. "I mean it, I'm cheerful, God help me."

"That is unusual," he admitted.

"That's what I mean. I've been married one day and marriage is already changing me. Gillian confuses me. I knew I wanted her, but I didn't know I'd become so possessive."

"You were possessive of her before you married her."

"Yes, well, it's worse now."

"She's your wife. It's probably just a natural inclination."

"No, it's more than that. I want to take her home and-"

Ramsey cut him off. "You can't, not yet. She's got to help me find the bastard who tried to kill my brother."

"I know she needs to stay here, but I still want to take her home, and if I could, I swear I'd keep her under lock and key," he admitted, shaking his head over his own foolish thoughts.

"So she'd be safe."

"Yes, and also because I don't like other men…"

"Staring at her? She's a beautiful woman."

"I'm not the jealous sort."

"Sure you are."

"She's turned my mind upside down."

"You sound like a man in love with his wife."

"Lovesick men are weak men."

"Only if they were weak before they fell in love," Ramsey said. "Iain loves his wife. Would you consider him weak?"

"No, of course not."

"Then it stands to reason that love doesn't make a man less than what he already is."

"It makes him vulnerable."

"Perhaps it does," Ramsey agreed.

"And if his mind is constantly consumed with thoughts of her, then he becomes weak. Is that not so?"

Ramsey smiled. "I'll tell you what is so. You love her, Brodick, and that scares the hell out of you."

"I should have broken your nose."

"Get the names first; then you can try. Are you certain that she'll tell you who they are?"

"Of course she will. She's my wife, and she'll do whatever I tell her to do."

"I wouldn't use those exact words when you talk to her. Wives don't like being told what to do by their husbands."

"I know Gillian," he said. "She won't refuse me. I'll have the names of all the Englishmen by sundown."

Chapter Twenty-Six

No one was more surprised than Brodick when his sweet, she'll-do-whatever-I-tell-her-to-do wife refused to give him the names of the Englishmen.

Astounded that she would deny him, he was at a loss as to what to do next. Gillian sat at the table with her hands folded in her lap, as calm as could be in the eye of his storm.

"What do you mean, no?" he demanded.

"You forgot to kiss me when you came inside. I think you should."

"What?"

"You forgot to kiss me."

"For the love of…"

He hauled her to her feet, planted a hard kiss on her mouth, and then sat her back down again. "You're going to tell me who those bastards in England are."

"Yes," she agreed, and then qualified her answer. "Eventually."

"What does that mean?"

She refused to answer. She picked up her brush and ran it through her hair. Damn, she looked pretty tonight, he thought. She wore a flowing blue sleeping gown that delicately clung to her soft curves. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were bright, and she smelled like roses. The woman was nearly irresistible. He glanced at the bed, then back at her before he realized where his thoughts were leading.

It was already way past sunset, and he still hadn't gotten the names from her, though in truth, he hadn't seen her since he'd left at dawn, and he'd been too busy until this minute to think about it. Now, however, he was determined to get what he wanted before they went to bed, and with that thought in mind, he said, "A wife must do whatever her husband orders her to do."

The command didn't sit well with her. "This wife doesn't."

"Damn it, Gillian, don't turn stubborn on me."

"A husband doesn't curse in his wife's presence."

"This husband does," he snapped.

She didn't like hearing that either. Tossing her brush on the table, she got up and took the long way around him to get to the bed. Then she kicked her slippers off and sat down.

Ramsey had been right after all. Some wives really didn't like taking orders from their husbands, and Gillian obviously fit into that category. He noticed the tears brimming in her eyes and knew he'd injured her feelings. Marriage was far more difficult than he'd anticipated.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Cry."

"I wouldn't think of it," she haughtily replied. She stood up, pulled the covers back, and got into bed.

He blew out the candles and was going to bank the fire in the hearth when she asked him to please add another log. "It's hot in here."

"I'm cold."

"I'll keep you warm."

When he sat on the bed to take his boots off, she rolled to her side to face the wall. In a whisper, she asked, "Are you sorry you married me?"

The question caught him off guard. Gillian was obviously feeling a bit insecure, and he knew he was responsible because he'd been acting like a bear from the moment he'd joined her.

"It's too soon to tell," he told her with a straight face.

She didn't appreciate the humor. "Are you sorry?"

He put his hand on her hip and forced her to turn toward him. "I'm sorry you're so stubborn, but I'm happy I married you."

"You aren't acting happy."

"You defied me."

"And you aren't accustomed to anyone refusing you, are you?"

He shrugged. " 'Tis the truth I'm not."

"Brodick, when we are with others, I will never argue with you, but when we are alone, I will tell you exactly what's on my mind."

He thought about that for a moment and then nodded. "Did something happen tonight that's upset you? When I left you this morning, you were happy."

"When you left, I was sleeping."

"Aye, but you had a smile on your face," he teased. "You were no doubt dreaming about me."

"As a matter of fact, I've had an aggravating day."

"Tell me about it," he suggested.

"You really want to hear my complaints?" she asked, amazed.

His nod was all the encouragement she needed, and she sat up and proceeded to tell him everything. "First, Ramsey made me sit in the hall all morning long and look at face after face as more of his followers came inside. Then when I still hadn't found the man who betrayed him, he dragged me all over kingdom come to look at more faces. He was too busy to speak to Christen on my behalf," she added. "And Brisbane had already come back to report that my sister still hasn't changed her mind. I'm not going to continue to be patient, Brodick. I'm giving Ramsey until noon tomorrow to order Christen to come forward, and if he doesn't, then I'm going to take matters into my own hands."

She took a deep breath and then continued. "I finally met Bridgid at the lake, but it was already close to suppertime by then, and when she joined me, she had disappointing news."

"What was her news?" he asked.

"She asked a friend to follow Brisbane to find out where Christen lives, but the friend didn't return to the holding. Bridgid thinks he forgot."

Brodick stood up and stretched. Gillian watched the muscles across his shoulders flex and was taken aback by the sheer might of his body. Then he removed his belt and stripped out of his clothes, and she promptly lost her train of thought altogether. Her husband was so incredibly beautiful.

"So you thought that if you knew where Christen lived, you would simply go to her?"

He waited a long minute for her to answer, then repeated the question.

"Yes," she stammered, flustered. "That's what I thought."

"Christen's a MacPherson and now part of the Sinclair clan."

"I realize that."

"Ramsey's her laird and you shouldn't interfere. Let him handle this. He promised you he'd force her to see you."

He dropped to the bed on his stomach, his weight all but knocking her to the floor.

Though he was loath to admit it, he was exhausted.

"Ramsey promised me he'd talk to her today, but he didn't."

With a loud yawn, he said, "He's a busy man, Gillian."

"I know he is. People are constantly hounding him with problems, and the women here won't leave him alone. They make up all sorts of petty worries just so they can talk to him. It must drive him to distraction. Still, he promised me, Brodick, and he has until noon tomorrow to speak to Christen."

He didn't want her to stop talking because he loved the husky sound of her voice.

"What else happened today?"

"I hid from Father Laggan," she confessed. Brodick laughed, and she had to wait until he'd stopped to ask, "Did you perchance have an opportunity to speak to him?"

"Yes," he replied. "He had a hell of a hangover."

"Ramsey got him drunk on purpose, didn't he?"

"Laggan was already well on his way, but Ramsey helped."

"That's a sin," she decided. "Why did he do it?"

"Because he's my good friend and he knew that one way or another, I was going to take you to my bed."

She put her hand on his shoulder, noticed how tense he was, and began to rub his muscles. He groaned with pleasure, and so she pulled her gown up, straddled his hips, and used both hands to work the tension out of him. "Damn, that feels good."

She was also feeling relaxed, and she realized it was because she had shared her day with Brodick. "What did you do today?"

"I went home."

"But you told me your holding is a long way from here."

"I rode hard," he said. "But it was past sunset by the time I got back."

"What did you do at home?"

"Settled a few problems," he said.

She remembered another bit of news to share with him then. "Do you know what Bridgid told me today?"

"What's that?"

"A woman tried to sneak into Ramsey's room… at least that's what Bridgid thought. So she went in after her, and the sinful woman had taken her clothes off and was going to… you know."

Grinning, he said, "No, tell me."

"Seduce Ramsey, of course. Bridgid threw her out and made quite a scene. Now she's furious with her laird because he bluntly told her he had invited the woman to share his bed. If he's going to have women parading into his bedroom every night, Bridgid's made up her mind to leave."

"And where will she go?"

"We discussed that very problem on the way to chapel. We wanted to light a candle for Gideon's father and another one for Ramsey's soul. Bridgid is convinced he's on his way to purgatory."

The heat of her thighs pressed against his was starting to interfere with his ability to concentrate. "Why would you light a candle for Gideon's father? You don't know the man."

"Because the poor man took a turn for the worse. Bridgid heard Faudron tell Ramsey so when he was explaining why Gideon has been delayed. Faudron and Anthony will share the commander's duties until he returns."

"You've got a good heart, lass."

"Wouldn't you light a candle for me if I were dying?"

"Do not talk about such things. I would not let you die," he said vehemently.

She leaned down and kissed his shoulder. "I told Bridgid she could come and live with the Buchanans. She tried to hide her reaction to my suggestion, but it was obvious she was horrified by the idea. Isn't that peculiar?"

"It would be a difficult adjustment for her. Ramsey treats his followers like children. I don't."

"I won't have a difficult adjustment."

"Yes, you will."

"No, I won't, because you'll be there. I don't care where I live or how I live as long as you are by my side."

He was humbled by her faith and love. "Now that I'm married, I'll have to make some changes," he remarked.

"Such as?"

"You'll probably want a home."

"You don't have a home now?"

"No."

"Where do you sleep?" she asked, trying not to sound appalled.

"On the ground. I much prefer it to a soft bed."

"But what do you do when it rains?"

Her voice sounded strained, and he knew she was having difficulty staying calm. Her hands weren't rubbing his shoulders now; they were pounding them.

"I get wet."

She began to pray he wasn't serious. "What about your followers? Do they also sleep outside?"

"Some do, but the married men live in cottages like this one with their women."

"Why doesn't their laird?"

"I've had no need for one."

"You do now. I don't want to sleep outside."

"You will sleep with me."

"Yes, but I want a home."

"Like Ramsey's?" he asked.

"No," she answered. "It doesn't have to be grand. One just like this cottage would be nice."

She stopped rubbing his shoulders and traced a crescent-shaped scar below his right shoulder. "How did you get this?"

"I don't remember. It happened a long time ago."

"It must have hurt," she said. She kissed the jagged gray line, noticed his muscles tightened, and kissed him again. Then she stretched out on top of him and put her head down on his shoulder.

He groaned. "You're killing me, Gillian."

"Am I too heavy for you?"

"That isn't what I mean. If you don't stop wiggling, I'm going to make love to you, and I know you're tender."

The heat radiating from his body warmed her. "Not so very tender," she whispered. "And you weren't worried about that during the night."

"Then you remember? I thought you slept through it."

She knew he was teasing her. "Yes, I did sleep through it. It must have been a dream that made me scream."

"Aye, you were screaming," he agreed, smiling over the memory. "I made you burn, didn't I?"

"How would I know? I was asleep."

She began to stroke his arms, loving the feel of him. "You're so hard," she whispered.

She was far more accurate than she realized. He was hard from wanting her, but he was pleased by her boldness and curiosity.

"Brodick?"

"Yes?"

"Could we… if you're not too tired and you didn't have to move… could I…"

"Could you what?" he asked.

She finally got up the courage to get the words out. "Could I make love to you?"

"But I won't have to move?"

"No," she insisted.

He laughed. "Sweetheart, moving is a definite requirement."

Her hands caressed the sinewy ripples of his back as she slowly moved down his body. She wanted to kiss him everywhere.

"Gillian," he began gruffly.

"Hush," she whispered. "I'm making love to you this time. You said I could."

"May I offer a suggestion?"

"What is it?"

"It'll work better if you let me turn over."

He rolled onto his back, grabbed her, and kissed her hungrily as he helped her untie the ribbon of her gown and watched her blush as she pulled the gown over her head and tossed it aside.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered. He kissed her again.

The teasing ended then as passion flared. Trembling in his arms, she became more demanding. He entered her swiftly, completely, and the pleasure was so intense, so blissful, he closed his eyes and groaned loudly, "Lord, you feel good."

And then he began to move within her, slowly, deliberately until she was writhing out of control. The thrilling sensations drove him on, and when he felt her tighten around him and heard her cry his name, he climaxed deep inside her.

Spent, he collapsed on top of her and stayed there long minutes until his heart stopped slamming inside his chest and he could draw a decent breath.

"You've exhausted me," he whispered gruffly as he rolled to his side and pulled her up against him. Her back was against his chest and her sweet derriere was pressed against his groin. The scent of their lovemaking clung to their bodies; the only sound was that of the logs crackling in the hearth and Gillian's occasional sigh.

"I had no idea I was going to like this so much."

"I did," he told her. "I knew the first time I kissed you. I could feel the passion in you. I knew you were going to be wild, and I was right."

"Because I love you," she said. "I don't think I'd be so… free… with any other man."

"You aren't ever going to find out," he said. "No other man will ever touch you."

Before he could get riled up, she soothed him. "I don't want any other man. I want only you. I love you, now and forever."

Her fervent words pleased him. Lifting her hand, he kissed her wrist. "Does this still bother you?" he asked as he looked at the scars puckering her skin.

"No," she answered. She tried to pull her hand away then. "But it's unsightly."

He kissed her ear. "Nothing about you is unsightly."

And then he proceeded to kiss every mark on her arm, and by the time he reached her elbow, she was shivering.

Just as Gillian was contentedly drifting off to sleep, he nudged her. "Do you trust me?"

"You know that I do."

"Then give me the names of the Englishmen."

She was suddenly wide awake. Turning in his arms, she looked into his eyes. "I want you to promise me something first."

"What is it?"

She sat up, pulled the covers around her, and leaned against the wall. "You know that I have to return to England. You understood that before you married me, didn't you?"

He knew where this was leading and frowned. "Yes," he agreed. "I knew you wanted to return to England."

"I'll give you their names after you promise me you and Iain and Ramsey won't retaliate until I've accomplished my goal and my Uncle Morgan is safe. You're a man of your word, Brodick. Promise me."

"Gillian, I cannot let you go back. You'd be walking into a death trap, and I can't-"

"You cannot stop me."

"Yes, I can." His voice was forceful now, angry. He sat up and roughly pulled her into his arms.

"I have to go."

"No."

"Brodick, Morgan is now your uncle too, and it's your duty to look out for him, isn't it?"

"I'll find him for you, Gillian, and see that no harm comes to him."

She shook her head. "You wouldn't know where to look. I have to go back and finish this."

He tried to reason with her. "You told me that the bastard demanded you return with the king's box and your sister. You will be going back empty-handed. How then can you expect to save your uncle?"

"The baron's far more interested in getting the jeweled box back than anything else. I'm going to try to convince him that my sister's dead."

"But you don't have the box, do you? And you don't know where the hell it is, remember?"

"I'm praying that my sister remembers," she said quietly.

"And if she doesn't?"

"I don't know," she cried out. "I have to go back. My uncle's life is at stake. Why won't you understand?"

"I can't let you put yourself in such jeopardy. If anything happened to you…" His voice shook, and he couldn't go on, couldn't even think about Gillian being hurt without shuddering. "I wouldn't like it," he muttered.

"Promise me, Brodick."

"No."

"Be reasonable," she demanded.

"I am being reasonable. You aren't."

"You knew… before you married me… you knew what I had to do."

"Gillian, things have changed."

She tried another strategy. "You could protect me. You could make certain I was safe, couldn't you?" He didn't answer her. "If you and Ramsey and Iain came with me, I would be very safe. After I've found out where my uncle is, then you could retaliate… but not before."

"So it's your plan to walk into the demon's den alone? You're out of your mind if you think…"

"You could make it safe for me."

She wasn't going to bend, and he had to have the names.

"All right," he finally agreed, but before she could get excited over his promise, he qualified it.

"If your sister has the box or knows where it is and you then have something to bargain with, and if you do exactly what I tell you to do when we get there, then I'll let you go with us."

"And you will wait until my uncle is safe to retaliate?"

"Yes. I give you my word."

She was so pleased she kissed him. "Thank you."

"I swear to God, Gillian, if anything happens to you, I could not live with it."

"You'll protect me."

Heaven help him, he was already regretting his promise. How in God's name could he let her near the bastards?

She put her head down on his shoulder. "There are three of them," she whispered, and felt him tense in reaction. "All of them are barons and close friends of King John. When they were boys, their antics amused him. Baron Alford of Lockmiere is the most powerful. He's the adviser to the king. My Uncle Morgan told me that he was the one who introduced Arianna to John, and for that reason alone, John will always protect him. You're going to have to be very cunning and careful, Brodick. The king will not care what your reasons are if you harm Alford."

"Is Alford the one who killed your father and laid claim to your estates?"

"Yes," she answered. "He's called Alford the Red because of the color of his hair and his temperament. He's the one who struck the bargain with the Highlander, but he had help from the other two. Hugh of Barlowe and Edwin the Bald are always at Alford's beck and call. Both have estates adjacent to Alford's."

"Where is Alford now?"

"Waiting for me in Dunhanshire," she answered.

"Do you think your uncle is there as well?"

"I don't know."

"You're going to have to accept the possibility that Alford has already killed your uncle."

"No," she replied. "Oh, I know Alford would if he could and not suffer a minute of remorse, and I've heard him proudly declare that he has never kept his word, but he needs to keep my uncle alive in order to gain my cooperation. Alford knows he won't get the box unless he can produce my uncle… and in good health… first."

"And then he's going to try to kill both of you."

"You won't let that happen."

"No, I won't," he agreed. "This is a dangerous game you're playing, Gillian, and I promised to let you go with us if you had something to bargain with."

"You'll take me with you," she said. "With or without the box."

Brodick didn't agree or disagree. For the next hour he made her describe in minute detail both her Uncle Morgan's estate and Dunhanshire, and once he was satisfied, he questioned her about the number of soldiers under Alford's command.

It was past midnight when he finally let her rest. She fell asleep sprawled on top of him, safe and protected in his arms.

He stayed awake another hour while he formulated his plans, and when he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of killing the man who had dared to touch her.

Aye, he dreamed of revenge.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Gillian was sick and tired of waiting for her sister to come to her senses. She was also angry with Ramsey because he still hadn't kept his promise to speak to Christen on her behalf, and though she had threatened that she would give him until noon today before she would take matters into her own hands, noon had come and gone, and so had Ramsey. One of the servants told her that he had left the holding early that morning with Brodick and a small band of soldiers. The servant didn't know where they had gone or when they were coming back.

She finally decided to find Brisbane and demand his help. With that intent she got up from the table just as Bridgid came running into the hall, carrying two sets of bows and arrows. She paused to smile at one of Ramsey's soldiers standing guard near the entrance, then continued on until she reached Gillian.

"Shall we go to the lake and swim?" she suggested in a loud voice.

"I don't want-"

"Yes, you do," she whispered. "Play along," she added with a barely perceptible nod at the guard.

"I'd love to go swimming," Gillian replied in a near shout.

Bridgid's eyes sparkled with merriment. "I've brought bows and arrows for both of us," she said. "If we're clever and quick, we will have rabbit stew for supper."

Gillian slipped the pack of arrows over her shoulder and carried the bow as she followed Bridgid through the buttery to the back door. They were outside and across the clearing in a matter of minutes.

Once they reached the cover of the trees, Bridgid, in her excitement, clasped Gillian's hand. "I know where Christen lives. Anthony didn't forget after all. He followed Brisbane yesterday morning just like he promised he would, but then he was ordered to relieve one of the border guards and didn't get back to the holding until dark. It was too late by then, of course. He even apologized," she added. "He's such a dear man."

"Yes, he is," she agreed. "Will you take me to Christen now?"

"Of course I will, but slow down, Gillian. People will notice if you run. Anthony's hidden two horses near the lake, and if luck stays on our side, we'll be on our way soon. You can't tell anyone where we're going. Anthony made me promise, and we can't let anyone know he helped us."

"I won't tell," she assured her friend. "I wouldn't like to see him get into trouble for doing a good deed."

"I doubt anyone will give us a second notice. It's the perfect opportunity. Brodick and Ramsey have gone to settle some trouble on the western border."

"Do you think Ramsey will be angry because I didn't wait for him to speak to Christen?"

"Probably," she replied. "But if he is, he'll talk to Brodick about it, not you. He would never let you see his anger."

"I'm worried about you," she countered. "I don't want you to get into trouble."

"Then we'll hurry and get back before anyone knows we've left," she said. "Besides, I'd be more concerned about your husband's anger if I were you. Brodick's known to have a fierce temper."

"He won't be angry with me. I told him I was going to take matters into my own hands if Ramsey didn't keep his promise to me. And he didn't," she insisted vehemently.

"He would have," Bridgid said in defense of her laird. "Ramsey's a man of his word."

"I don't know what I would do without your help. I even thought about pounding on every door until someone told me where Christen was."

Bridgid lifted a tree branch for Gillian to duck under as she said, "You never would have found her. It's peculiar really. Your sister lives in a very remote area. I've never been that far north, but Anthony assured me it's part of the MacPherson territory."

"Did he tell you how long it will take us to get there?"

"Yes," she answered. "We should be there by midafternoon."

They finally found the horses Anthony had hidden for them. "The gray's yours," Bridgid decided as she ran to the chestnut mare and climbed into the saddle.

Gillian took one look at the beautiful horses and the ornate saddles and shook her head in disbelief. "He borrowed Ramsey's horses?"

"Ramsey won't miss them."

"But they're such grand horses, and if anything-"

"Will you stop worrying?"

Gillian was too close to finally finding her sister to change her mind now.

"Just think. In a very little while you'll be reunited with your dear sister."

Gillian was suddenly brimming with excitement. Slipping the bow over her shoulder, she swung up into the saddle and tried to get comfortable. It was no easy feat. Made of a thin layer of wood, then covered with wide, thick strips of leather, the saddle was stiff, unyielding, but smooth against her skin. Because it was constructed to accommodate a man, she, like Bridgid, rode astride, and after tugging her skirts down over her knees, she picked up the reins and followed her friend down the gentle slope into the valley.

They both spotted Proster on the rise when they crossed the meadow, and Gillian thought he was watching them leave, but Bridgid was just as certain he hadn't noticed them at all.

It was a beautiful day for a ride. The sky was clear, the sun was bright and warm, and the scent of summer was everywhere. They crossed a clearing golden with buttercups, and a few minutes later they climbed a hill. At the summit, Gillian turned to look back. The vista was so incredibly beautiful she imagined that this land surely resembled heaven.

They continued along at a quick pace and descended into a narrow glen, following its long winding corridor until they reached a dense forest. The farther they rode into the wilderness, the more nervous Bridgid became. She kept looking behind her to make certain they weren't being followed.

Gillian also began to worry. She wondered why Christen and her husband would deliberately isolate themselves from all the other MacPhersons. It didn't make any sense to her, for everyone knew there was safety in numbers against hostile clans and marauders. No, it didn't make any sense.

Bridgid was having the same thoughts. "I don't like this," she whispered, as though she were concerned she would be overheard. Pulling on her reins she stopped her horse and waited for Gillian to catch up with her. "I don't like this at all," she repeated.

"We must have taken a wrong turn," Gillian suggested.

"I don't think so," her friend said. "I memorized Anthony's instructions, and I'm sure this is the way he said we should go. He was very specific, but I must not have-"

"Something's wrong," Gillian argued. "This cannot be the right way. Bridgid, do you notice how quiet it is? It's as though the birds have all left the forest."

"It's too quiet. I don't have a good feeling about this. I think we'd best turn around and go back."

"I think we should too," Gillian quickly agreed. "We've been riding most of the afternoon, and we should have found Christen's cottage by now."

"If we hurry, we can be home by sunset. Are you very disappointed? I know how much you want to see your sister again."

"It's all right. I just want to get out of here. I feel like the forest is closing in on us."

Their instincts were telling them to hurry, and both of them admitted that they had acted rashly by going into the wilderness barely armed and without an escort.

Because the path was so narrow and broken, they had to back their horses to a wider area so they could turn around. Then Gillian took the lead. She had just broken through the thicket and was crossing a stream when she heard a shout. Turning toward the sound, she saw a soldier riding hard down the slope toward them. Squinting against the sun, she recognized the MacPherson plaid, but she couldn't see the man's face.

Bridgid rode forward to flank her side. She put her hand above her eyes to block the sunlight, then cried out, "It's Proster. He must have followed us."

"What in heaven's name is he doing?" Gillian asked, as she watched the MacPherson soldier swing his bow up and reach for an arrow, his gaze intently locked on the trees behind them.

The ambush took them by complete surprise. Gillian heard a whistling noise behind her and turned just as an arrow sliced through the air in front of her face.

And then more arrows whizzed past. Gillian's horse bolted into a gallop, keeping pace with Bridgid's strong mare as they raced up the bank of the stream. Thinking they were easy targets together, Gillian veered her horse away from her friend, screaming to Bridgid to get to Proster.

There was a fleeting moment when she thought she was going to make it to the cover of the trees. She flattened herself against the gray, lifted her knees, and tucked her head low beside his mane to make herself less of a target. And that was when the arrow caught her.

The force and speed of the weapon were so great, the tip went through skin and muscle and into the saddle. The pain was instant. She cried out softly, and instinctively tried to push the white hot agony away, but when she touched the arrow, a pang shot down her leg, and it was only then that she realized she was skewered to the saddle.

She suddenly became enraged and was turning to get a look at her attackers just as Bridgid's scream pierced the air. Gillian spun around and saw Bridgid's horse stumble and fall, throwing her to the ground. And then suddenly the screaming stopped and Bridgid lay completely still.

"No," Gillian shouted as she kicked her horse to get back to her friend.

Bridgid's arrows were strewn about the ground, and only then did Gillian remember she wasn't defenseless after all. She grabbed one of her arrows and swung her bow up. A man on horseback broke through the trees, racing to intercept her, but Proster rode toward her from the other direction, shouting at her to get away as he notched an arrow to his bow and took aim. A second later there was a bloodcurdling scream, and the man slumped to the ground, an arrow imbedded in his belly. He continued to howl, squirming like a snake in the dirt. And then the squirming stopped and the scream became a death rattle.

The other attacker rushed Gillian then. Proster notched another arrow. For the barest of seconds he hesitated as he recognized the man, but then he let the arrow go. His enemy threw himself flat against his horse, and Proster's arrow narrowly missed. Frantic, Proster searched for another arrow as the horse's thundering hooves galloped toward him. He flung the bow down and struggled to get his sword out of its sheath.

As the attacker closed the distance, his attention was on Proster, and Gillian seized the opportunity. She raised her bow, prayed for accuracy, and dispatched her arrow. Her aim was true. The arrow struck the man in the center of his forehead and flung him backward over his horse. He died instantly.

Gillian was panting with fear and then began to gag. She threw her bow to the ground and broke into sobs. God forgive her, she had just killed a man and had even begged for His help. She knew she had no choice. It was their lives or his, but the truth didn't ease her torment.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself. Now wasn't the time to fall apart, she told herself as she wiped the tears from her face. Bridgid was hurt and needed her.

Proster reached her friend first. He held Bridgid in his arms, but her head was slumped down and she wasn't moving. There was blood trickling from her forehead.

Even as she heard Bridgid groan, she cried out, "Is she breathing?"

"Yes," Proster answered. "She struck her head on a stone, and it knocked the wind out of her."

Bridgid groaned again and slowly opened her eyes. Gillian was so relieved, she began to cry. "Thank God," she whispered. "You're all right, Bridgid? You didn't break anything?"

Dazed, it took her a moment to figure out what Gillian was asking, and then she answered. "I think I'm all right," she said as she put her hand to her forehead. Grimacing from the pain her touch triggered, she let her hand drop back to her lap and noticed then that it was covered with blood. Turning in his arms, she looked up at the soldier. "Proster, did you save us, then?"

He smiled. "It seems so."

"You followed us."

"Yes," he admitted. "I saw you crossing the meadow and I wondered where you were going. Then you turned to the north and I became more puzzled. I kept expecting you to come back, and when you didn't, I decided to go after you."

"Thank God you did," Gillian said.

"Who were they?" Gillian demanded. "Did you recognize the men who attacked us?"

"Yes," he answered, his voice grim now. "Durston was one and Faudron was the other. They're both Sinclairs."

"Faudron?" Bridgid cried out. "But he's one of our laird's commanders."

"He isn't any longer," he said bluntly. "Lady Gillian killed him."

"Were there more than two?" Bridgid asked, and before he could answer her, she said, "They could come back-"

"There were only two."

"You're certain?" Bridgid asked. "If there were more-"

"There weren't," he insisted. He looked at Gillian when he added, "It was an ambush, and you were their target, Lady Buchanan."

"How could you know that?" Bridgid asked.

"The arrows were all aimed at her," he answered patiently. "Their goal was to kill you, milady," he added. "And if Bridgid had seen their faces, they would have killed her too. I'm sure they didn't think they would need more than two men to kill one woman. The element of surprise was on their side as well."

"But why would they want to kill her?" Bridgid asked.

"Do you know why, milady?" Proster asked.

She didn't hesitate in answering. "Yes, but I cannot speak of it without permission from Ramsey and Brodick."

"This is my fault," Bridgid said then. "And I will tell my laird so. I shouldn't have-"

Gillian cut her off. "No, it's my fault for taking matters into my own hands. Bridgid, you and Proster both could have been killed." Her voice shook, and she took a deep breath to calm herself. She wanted to weep, for the pain in her thigh was burning intensely and she was becoming sick to her stomach.

Proster helped Bridgid stand, then swung up onto his horse's back. He was going to get Bridgid's mare, but Gillian whispered, "I need help."

"The danger's over now," Bridgid said. "Don't be afraid."

Gillian shook her head. Proster noticed the arrow protruding from her saddle when he rode forward and, without thinking, reached over to pull the arrow out.

Gillian screamed. "Don't touch it."

And that was when he and Bridgid both noticed the blood dripping down her leg.

Bridgid was horrified. "My God, you must be in terrible pain."

"It's not so bad if I don't move, but I need help getting it out."

Proster leapt from his horse and rushed to her side. Gently lifting her skirt away, he said, "I can't see the tip. It's in deep. It went clear through the leather into the wood. Milady, this is going to hurt," he added as he tried to get a grip on the arrow by sliding his fingers between the saddle and her thigh.

The blood made his hands slick and twice he lost his grip. The third time he tried, she cried out and he let go of her. He couldn't put her through the torture any longer.

"I can't get it out without assistance."

"I could help," Bridgid offered. She reached up and took hold of Gillian's hand to offer her friend comfort.

Proster shook his head. "It will require more strength than you have. I'm not sure what to do."

"It isn't as bad as it could be," Bridgid announced in hope of cheering Gillian. "The arrow didn't go through bone. It looks like it just caught the edge of your skin."

"But it's firmly lodged," Proster pointed out.

"Maybe if we removed the saddle-" Bridgid suggested.

"Dear God, no," Gillian shouted.

"Removing the saddle will only pull the arrow further through," Proster said.

"I'll stay here," Gillian said. "You and Bridgid go and get help. Find Brodick. He'll know what to do."

"I won't leave you."

"Please, Proster."

"I'm not leaving you either," Bridgid insisted.

"Then you stay with me and Proster can go."

"I will not leave you." Proster's voice was firm, and she knew it was pointless to continue to argue with him. He obviously felt honor-bound to stay with her.

"Then what are we going to do?" Bridgid asked.

"If we take it slow and easy, and if I hold my leg down, we could try to go back."

"We'll see how you do," Proster decided. "I'll go get your mare, Bridgid. Do you think you can ride? You took quite a spill."

"I'm fine," she replied.

The two of them watched Proster ride down the hill and when he was out of earshot, Bridgid whispered, "I lied. My head's pounding. It's going to get worse too when my laird finds out what I've done."

"You haven't done anything wrong," Gillian insisted. "Anthony sent us this way. If anyone's to blame, he is."

"You cannot think that Anthony had anything to do with this. He's one of Ramsey's most trusted… he's second only to Gideon…"

"And Faudron was third under Gideon, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but-"

"He betrayed Ramsey," she argued. "And now he's dead."

"Yes, but Anthony-"

"How can you not think he's responsible? Bridgid, it was an ambush. They were waiting for us and Anthony set the trap."

"But why?" Bridgid cried out. Stunned, her mind rebelled against the truth. "My God, it's too much to take in. My head is spinning."

Gillian was immediately contrite for losing her temper. "Why don't you go to the creek and put some cold water on your cut. You'll feel better."

Bridgid nodded and then started down the hill. She stopped suddenly, turned around, and asked, "You do trust Proster, don't you?"

"Yes, I do, but I think you should tell Ramsey what happened and no one else."

"I've never killed anyone before, but I swear to you, when I see Anthony again, I'm going to kill him."

While her friend continued on to the creek, Gillian held her leg steady against the saddle and slowly maneuvered her horse back down the hill so that she could get a closer look at the fallen men. She'd seen Faudron before, but she didn't remember meeting anyone named Durston. She shuddered at the bloody sight, and after one quick, necessary glance, she knew that Durston wasn't the man she had seen riding into Dunhanshire.

When Bridgid called to her, she turned around and went back to the top of the hill. She found that if she gripped her thigh tight and pushed down hard, the wound wasn't jarred by the movement of the horse's gait and the pain was bearable.

Proster had collected Bridgid's bow and arrows and was now helping her onto her mare.

"You're certain you can ride, Bridgid?" he asked.

"Yes."

Proster swung up onto his mount, glanced up at the sun to judge the angle of descent, and then said, "Hopefully we won't have to go far before they find us."

"Do you think they're looking now?" Bridgid asked.

"I hope they are," he answered.

The three of them set out at a snail's pace. Gillian had to keep stopping because of the discomfort. She finally got up the nerve to look closely at the laceration and was relieved when she saw it wasn't as horrible as she thought. The arrow had caught the outside of her thigh and had gone through flesh, just as Bridgid said. Now that she knew the injury wasn't severe, the discomfort didn't seem so bad. Until she tried to pull the arrow out. She nearly passed out from the bolt of pain that shot through her.

"Do you think they're looking for us?" Bridgid asked.

"We've been gone a long time," Gillian said. "Surely someone's searching for us by now."

"Ker and Alan both saw me leave," Proster said. "I told them I was going to follow you."

Bridgid jerked on her reins and turned to Gillian. "They'll tell their commander," she whispered. "They'll tell Anthony, and he'll send more men…"

Gillian tried not to panic. "No," she said. "He doesn't know his men failed."

Proster turned back when Bridgid and Gillian didn't follow. He assumed Gillian needed to rest for a few minutes.

A mist was rolling into the forest. The thick swirling fog may have been harmless to touch but it was deadly to ride in, for like a thief, it would rob them of their sight.

"We've got to get to high ground before dark," Proster said.

"No one will find us in this mist," Gillian said, feeling miserable now and disheartened.

"Anthony won't find us either," Bridgid pointed out.

Unaware that Anthony had sent them into an ambush, Proster misunderstood Bridgid's comment. "Ker and Alan should tell Anthony that I followed you, but I don't think they will."

"Why not?" Bridgid asked. "In Gideon's absence, he's their commander."

"It won't matter," Proster said. "They don't respect or trust him. He's made it clear he has no use for any of the MacPherson soldiers, and he's humiliated Ker and Alan and all the rest of us countless times. No, they won't tell him."

"But when it's noticed that we're gone, Anthony will have to send out search parties, won't he?"

"Yes, but I doubt he'll send any soldiers this far north. He'd send soldiers to search the more populated areas. Why did you take this route? Did you get lost?"

"No," Gillian answered.

"Yes," Bridgid said at the same time.

"We went riding and lost track of the time," Gillian lied. "And we… no, that isn't true, Proster. We thought that my sister lived in this area, but we were mistaken."

Proster saw the tears in Gillian's eyes and rushed out, "It isn't hopeless. Ker and Alan will tell Ramsey, and I'm sure that Brodick is already looking for you, Lady Buchanan."

"But if he-"

Proster smiled. "Milady, you are the Buchanan's wife. I imagine that Brodick and his guard are tearing the hills apart now looking for you. Don't despair. Your husband will come for you."

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Gideon gave them the bad news. Ramsey and Brodick had only just returned to the holding when the Sinclair commander came running across the courtyard to intercept them.

One look at his grim expression told both lairds there was serious trouble.

"What is it?" Ramsey demanded.

Gideon panted as he explained. "Lady Buchanan and Bridgid KirkConnell have disappeared. We've searched everywhere and cannot find them."

"What the hell do you mean, they've disappeared?" Brodick roared.

"How long have they been missing?" Ramsey demanded.

Gideon shook his head. "I'm not certain. When I got back from my father's, Anthony had already left the holding with soldiers to search for them. I was just about to join them."

"They can't have gone far," Ramsey told Brodick. "It's nearly sunset now. We'll have to hurry if we're going to find them before dark. Which way did Anthony go?"

"South," he answered. "Laird, I take full responsibility for this. If I had been here instead-"

Ramsey cut him off. "You were needed at home," he snapped. "No one saw them leave?" he asked then. Incredulous, he shook his head. "How was it possible for them to get away without anyone seeing them?"

Gideon didn't have any answers. Brodick swung onto his stallion's back. "We're wasting time," he muttered. "I'll search the west. Gideon, take soldiers and search the east, and Ramsey, you go north."

"There's no reason to go north," Ramsey argued. "If they went out alone, they wouldn't have gone into the wilderness. Bridgid knows better."

Two scared young MacPherson soldiers waited on their horses near the base of the valley. They watched Gideon lead a band of soldiers down the hill and then head east.

"You tell Laird Buchanan," Alan whispered.

Ker shook his head. "You tell him. I don't want him to break my nose again. I'll tell Ramsey."

Brodick and Black Robert took the lead, followed by Dylan, Liam, and Aaron. They had just crossed the grassy plain when they heard a shout. Dylan turned back when he saw the MacPherson soldier chasing them, but the others continued on.

Alan's freckled face was bloodred, more from fear than exertion as he blurted out his important news. "Proster… he followed the ladies, and they went north."

Dylan whistled and within seconds Brodick and the others surrounded the boy.

"Proster followed my wife?"

The steely gaze of the laird so unnerved the soldier, he could barely get the words out. "He saw your wife and Bridgid KirkConnell riding north."

"Were there any soldiers with them?" Aaron demanded.

"No, they went out alone, and that's why Proster followed them. He said he was going to bring them back… that it wasn't safe…"

"Then why the hell didn't he bring them back?" Liam demanded.

"I don't know," Alan stammered. "Something must have happened to delay them. Ker and I were going to look for them, but then Gideon arrived, and on his heels, you and Ramsey returned."

"If you aren't telling us the truth, I swear I'll flay you alive," Black Robert threatened.

"As God is my witness, I'm telling you the truth. I swear it on my mother's grave. My friend… Ker… he went to tell Ramsey to go north."

"Bring him with us," Brodick ordered. Goading his stallion into a gallop, he raced toward the forest. He kept telling himself not to panic, but it didn't do any good. My God, what was she thinking to ride out into the wilderness without protection? One boy protecting two women? Something had happened all right, or Proster would have brought them back by now.

For the first time in his life, Brodick prayed. Dear God, let her be all right. I need her.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Gillian had had enough. She simply couldn't go on, and it was too dangerous anyway, as darkness was fast approaching and the gray mist was getting thicker. They had stopped beside a creek, and she was about to tell Proster that with or without his help she was going to get rid of the arrow, but then she heard a rumbling in the distance. Within seconds the ground beneath her began to tremble.

Proster grabbed his sword as Bridgid frantically reached for her bow and arrows. Gillian pulled her dagger from her belt and moved closer to Bridgid.

"Get ready," Proster called, grimacing over the tremor he heard in his voice.

"Maybe it's Ker and Alan." Bridgid whispered the hope out loud.

"Too many horses," Proster said as he nudged his horse forward to put himself in front of the women.

Seconds later, Brodick emerged from the mist. He saw the three of them and pulled hard on the reins. The sight of his wife, apparently safe and sound, filled him with such relief, his knees almost buckled when he leapt to the ground.

His soldiers followed. They, too, dismounted and headed straight for Proster. They boy was shaking so violently it looked as though he was waving at them with his sword. But he didn't back down or run. As terrified as he was, he held his ground, willing to risk his life for the women.

"Put your sword away, boy," Dylan commanded.

Brodick rushed to his wife. "Gillian, you are all right?"

He expected a quick yes, and then he was going to give her hell. Didn't the woman understand how much she meant to him? How dare she take such a risk? By God, he would demand that she beg his forgiveness for putting him through such torture. And it would be a month of Sundays before he forgave her.

She was so overwhelmed with relief and joy that Brodick had found her, she didn't care that he was furious. "No, I'm not all right, but Brodick, I'm so happy to see you."

Proster, his hands still trembling, after three attempts had finally gotten his sword back into its sheath. He had just swung one leg over and was jumping off his horse when Brodick reached for his wife. The soldier lunged at the laird and shouted, "Don't touch her."

Brodick reacted with amazing speed. Proster's feet hadn't even touched the ground before he was thrown backward with such force he landed on his backside in the grass.

"What the hell's the matter with him?" Brodick demanded as he turned back to his wife.

Dylan grabbed the crazed soldier by the scruff of his neck and hauled him to his feet. Then he began to shake him. "You dare to give my laird orders?" he roared.

"She's pinned to the saddle," Proster shouted. "An arrow-"

As soon as the words registered, Dylan let go of the soldier. Brodick had already noticed the arrow and had moved to the right side of the horses to get a closer look.

Gillian put her hand against Brodick's cheek. "I'm so happy to see you," she whispered.

"And I'm happy to see you," he whispered back. "Now let me see what you've done to yourself," he ordered gruffly.

Her spine stiffened. "I didn't do anything," she cried out. "Except try to get away. If it weren't for Proster, Bridgid and I would have been killed."

Suddenly the three of them were talking at the same time as each tried to explain what had happened.

"They were Sinclairs," Proster announced.

"They weren't trying to kill me," Bridgid said. "They were after Gillian."

"They would have killed you too," Gillian countered.

"Proster killed one of them," Bridgid told Brodick then.

"Their names were Durston and Faudron," Proster said.

Brodick was taken aback when he heard the name of one of Ramsey's most valued commanders. "Faudron tried to kill you?"

"Yes," Bridgid answered for Gillian. "He and Durston were waiting for us."

"It was an ambush," Gillian said.

"I killed Durston," Proster boasted.

"What about Faudron? Did he get away?" Brodick asked.

"Nay," Proster answered. "Your wife killed him."

Brodick's gaze flew to Gillian.

"I had to," she whispered.

"One arrow, Laird, that went through his forehead. Her aim was true."

Brodick was trying to wedge his hand beneath Gillian's thigh so that he could get a proper grip on the arrow, but when he saw her flinch, he pulled his hand back.

"Proster tried to get the arrow out, but he couldn't," she told him.

The soldier began to move away from the commander, but Dylan grabbed him by the neck again.

Exasperated, Gillian called out, "Dylan, please let go of him."

Brodick took Gillian's dagger, lifted her plaid, and then slit her underskirts all the way up to the top of her thigh. The soldiers crowded around their laird to watch what he was doing and Gillian, trying to maintain some semblance of modesty and decorum, hastily tugged the plaid down over her leg.

"This isn't the time for shyness," Brodick told her.

She knew he was upset. "It isn't as bad as it looks."

"Could have fooled me," he countered.

"She might wish to sleep through this, Laird," Robert suggested.

"You're going to wait until she falls asleep?" Bridgid asked. She'd pushed her way through the men so that she could take hold of Gillian's hand.

Gillian was more astute than her friend. She was also outraged by Robert's suggestion. "No one's going to knock me out. Have I made myself clear?"

"But milady," Robert began.

She stopped him cold. "I cannot believe you would suggest such a thing."

"A light tap is all it would take," Aaron argued. "You wouldn't feel a thing."

"We don't like seeing you in pain, milady," Liam rasped.

"Then close your eyes," she snapped.

Brodick finally noticed Bridgid squeezed up against him. She had tears in her eyes as she stared at Gillian. He told her to move back so that he could, do what was needed, but Bridgid didn't budge, and Aaron had to lift her out of the way.

"What are you going to do?" Robert asked from behind.

In answer, Brodick pulled his sword free. "Dylan, hold the arrow steady. Liam, grab the reins."

Dylan moved forward, grabbed the arrow with both hands and pressed down against Gillian's thigh to keep it from moving.

Aaron pulled Bridgid out of the way, while Robert hurried to the other side of the horse and told Gillian to lean toward him.

"Are you still thinking about punching me, Robert?" she asked suspiciously.

"Nay, milady, I would never strike you without gaining permission."

She decided to trust him and put her hands on his shoulders as she slowly leaned down toward him.

"Brodick?"

"Yes?"

"Don't miss."

And then she closed her eyes and waited. She heard the whistle of the sword as it sliced through the air, felt only a slight jarring as the blade cut the arrow, and then it was over. When she opened her eyes again she saw that the arrow had been cleanly cut in half just a thumb's width above Dylan's hands.

She knew what was going to happen next, and, Lord, how she dreaded it. Brodick was slipping his arms under her knees. "Put your hands on my shoulders," he ordered.

"Wait."

"What is it?"

"I don't want to go back to Annie Drummond's cottage. Do you hear me? I don't want to go back there ever again."

He tightened his grip. "I thought you liked Annie's house."

Bridgid was wringing her hands in agitation. She could barely stand to watch her friend in such pain. "You'll feel better if you scream," she blurted. "I would."

Brodick looked into his wife's eyes, saw the tears, and said, "She will not make a sound."

He got just the reaction he wanted. Instantly furious, she shouted, "I'm supposed to say that, not you. If you tell me to be brave, then when I am, it doesn't count. I…"

She didn't make a sound, except her deep indrawn breath when Brodick lifted her and the arrow slid through her leg. She threw her arms around him and held tight, and when the tears fell, she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

He wasn't sure which one of them was shaking more. Without a word, he turned and carried her to the creek. Bridgid tried to follow them, thinking she could help bind the injury, but Dylan grabbed her and told her to wait until they returned.

"It's over with," Brodick whispered, and his voice was hoarse with relief. He held her tight against him and couldn't seem to make himself let go. It was going to take some time for him to get over the scare of losing her. He kissed her forehead and then begged her to stop crying.

She wiped her face with his plaid. "You're dying to yell at me, aren't you?"

"Damn right I am," he admitted. "But I'm a thoughtful man, and so I'll wait until you have recovered."

She didn't believe a word of it. "That is thoughtful of you," she agreed.

"What in God's name were you thinking, to leave without… my God, Gillian, you could have been killed."

He had only just gotten warmed up, and he continued to rant at her all the while he splashed cold water over her leg to wash off any dirt or dried blood. He stopped long enough to grudgingly admit the wound wasn't nearly as awful as he'd first thought, but he went right back to shouting at her while he tore strips from her skirt and wrapped them around her thigh to stop the bleeding. By the time he was finished, her thigh didn't hurt much at all, but her pride had taken quite a blistering.

He wouldn't let her walk, and she wouldn't let him carry her anywhere until he had finished giving her a piece of his mind. She wasn't about to let him scold her in front of the men.

Scooping her up into his arms, his tirade continued. "When we get home, I swear I'm putting two guards in front of you and two behind you. You're never going to get another chance to scare me like this again."

She put her hand against his cheek, a simple caress that magically calmed him. Then she ruined it by trying to explain her actions, inadvertently getting him riled up again.

"I didn't deliberately leave the holding in hopes of getting attacked."

"But you did leave the holding, didn't you? And without a proper guard to protect you. How could you leave Sinclair land without-"

"I didn't know I was leaving Ramsey's territory."

He closed his eyes and told himself for the hundredth time that she was all right. The thought of losing her scared the hell out of him and infuriated him at the same time. How had he allowed himself to become so vulnerable?

"Shouting at me isn't going to accomplish anything."

"Sure it is," he snapped. "It's making me feel a hell of a lot better."

She didn't dare smile, guessing he would take grave offense if she did. She wanted to soothe him now, not incite his wrath further.

"Will you please be reasonable?"

"I am being reasonable. Haven't you figured it out yet? It took me a while, but by God, I finally have."

"Figured out what?"

"Trouble follows you like a shadow, Gillian. You're prone to injuries. I swear to God, if a tree decided to fall right now, it would find your head to land on."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she muttered. "I'll admit that I have had a run of bad fortune, but-"

He wouldn't let her continue. "A run of bad fortune? Since I've known you, you've been beaten, stabbed, and now shot with an arrow. If this keeps up, you'll be dead in another month, and if that happens, I'm going to be damned angry."

"I was beaten, yes, but that was before I met you," she said, believing she was being quite logical. "And Alec didn't stab me. He cut my arm, but only because he was so frightened. It was just bad luck that it didn't heal. As for the arrow," she continued, "it only pinched my skin. You saw the cut; it wasn't bad."

"It could have pierced your heart."

"But it didn't."

She demanded that he put her down, and when he did, she walked to a tree so that he could see she was as fit as ever. Then she leaned against it to take the weight off the throbbing leg. Forcing a smile, she said, "Do you see? I'm quite all right."

Brodick turned away from her and stared out into the night, brooding. He didn't say a word for several minutes.

"I made up my mind a long time ago that no woman would ever unsettle me again. I will not let it happen."

"What are you telling me?"

His temper exploded. "You and I struck a bargain when we married, and you're going to live up to your end of it."

"What bargain?" she asked quietly.

"You married me for my protection."

"I married you because I love you. Now, tell me, Brodick. Why did you marry me? What did you get out of this bargain?"

He wouldn't answer, but she wasn't about to give up. Prodding him, she asked, "Did you marry me because you loved me?" She held her breath until he answered.

"Love weakens a man, and I'm not weak."

His hard words shattered her heart. She bowed her head so he wouldn't see how he had hurt her. "You told me you wanted to protect my reputation. I remember that conversation, but even then I knew that wasn't the real reason you married me. I thought… I hoped, anyway… that you cared for me. I knew you were grateful because I helped Alec and you're his guardian, but surely you didn't marry me out of gratitude. A simple thank you would have been enough."

"I had a responsibility to you, Gillian, and that is all that need be said about my reasons."

"You care for me, Brodick. I know you do."

He turned away from her. He was acting like a cornered animal. He had never hedged or skirted an issue before. No, he'd been honest and blunt, but now he was deliberately being evasive.

It made her worry all the more. What he wasn't telling her frightened her.

Why was it so difficult for him to admit what was in his heart. "I ask you again. Why did you marry me?"

He refused to answer. "Ramsey's here," he said then. "I'll carry you back, and then you're going to start at the beginning and tell both of us what happened today."

"I can walk," she assured him. "You go ahead. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"You're coming with me now," he told her, and before she could argue, he picked her up and carried her back to the clearing.

One of the soldiers had started a campfire in the center of the grassy flat, and all the Buchanans sat in a circle around the flames. Proster, Ker, and Alan stood together near Ramsey and his men while Proster waited to give his laird their accounting. Bridgid faced her laird, and after one quick glance, Gillian knew her friend was hearing Ramsey's displeasure.

Brodick settled Gillian on the plaid Dylan had spread out for her, but she didn't stay there. As soon as he turned his back and walked away, she got to her feet and went to Bridgid.

"Ramsey, don't blame Bridgid for what happened. She isn't responsible."

"Then Bridgid was forced to leave the holding?"

His voice was deceptively mild, but Gillian knew he was seething with anger. "No, of course she wasn't forced."

"I take full responsibility for my actions," Bridgid said.

"If anyone is responsible for what happened today, you are, Ramsey. Yes, you are," Gillian added when he looked so incredulous. "If you had kept your promise to me, this incident could have been avoided."

"What promise?" he demanded.

"It meant so little to you that you have already forgotten?"

Ramsey glared at Brodick, obviously seeking his assistance. "Your wife believes I'm responsible."

"She's wrong."

Folding her arms defiantly, she boldly turned to Brodick. "I warned you that I would give Ramsey until noon today to do as he promised and order my sister to see me, but he didn't, and so I took matters into my own hands. Bridgid was kind enough to help me."

Ramsey was seething now. "I haven't had time to speak to your sister, and your impatience nearly got you killed."

Bridgid tried to deflect some of her laird's anger. "It was all for the good," she blurted out, and when Ramsey and Brodick looked at her as though she'd lost her senses, she hastened to explain. "You never would have known that Faudron and Durston wanted to hurt Gillian, and now perhaps you can figure out why."

"I'm sorry you're angry with us," Gillian said then. "And I'll admit we did take a needless risk, but in our defense, I would point out that neither one of us knew we were leaving your territory."

"Laird, may I speak freely?" Bridgid asked.

"What the hell have you been doing?" he countered.

She shook her head. "You're my laird and I respect you, and for that reason I will not lose my temper. I would appreciate it if you would treat me with the same consideration, for I am one of your most loyal followers."

"Bridgid, I'm going to assume that the bump on your head has addled you and that's why you dare to speak to me this way."

"Please don't be angry with her," Gillian pleaded on her friend's behalf. "This is all my fault. It's just as you have said, Ramsey. I was impatient."

"I'm the one who came up with the idea to follow Brisbane," Bridgid insisted.

"No, you didn't," Gillian countered. "You told me that Anthony came up with the idea."

Ramsey's roar stopped the discussion. "What does Anthony have to do with this?"

Gillian realized then that Bridgid hadn't told her laird everything. "Anthony told Bridgid that he would follow Brisbane."

"And?" he demanded when she hesitated.

"He told me he did follow him," Bridgid said. "He gave me specific directions, and I memorized them so we wouldn't get lost."

"He sent us into a trap."

Ramsey was shaking with rage. "I'm going to kill the son of a bitch with my bare hands."

"No, you're not," Brodick countered. "He tried to kill my wife. I'm going to kill him. It's my right."

"The hell it is," Ramsey muttered. "By God, he's going to suffer before he takes his last breath."