Ransom (19 page)

Kevin put Gillian's drink in front of her. He then placed the other goblets a good distance away, no doubt so that the drugged wine wouldn't get mixed up with the others. The toast was but a clever ploy, and though she knew Kevin's intentions were good-hearted, it still rankled her that he had ignored her wishes. After the toast was given, she would have to take a drink, for otherwise she would be considered rude. That left her only one choice.

“May I call your other soldiers inside to share this toast?” Kevin asked.

In answer Brodick went to the door and whistled. The sound echoed through the cottage. Less than a minute later, the rest of his soldiers filed inside to take a goblet. Gillian helped by handing one to each man.

When everyone held a drink, Kevin stepped forward and raised his goblet high.

“To a long happy life filled with love and laughter and healthy sons and daughters.”

“Here, here,” Aaron agreed.

Everyone waited until Gillian had taken a drink before they downed their wine. Brodick nodded to Annie, pulled out a chair, and straddled it to face Gillian. He motioned for her to put her arm out again, and then put his hand down on top of hers.

She didn't have to ask him why he was holding on to her. He was making sure she didn't pull away during Annie's treatment.

Dylan came around the table and placed one hand on her shoulder. “Robert, take the boy outside,” he ordered.

Alec frantically clutched Gillian's arm. “I want to stay with you,” he whispered anxiously.

“Then put your request to Dylan,” she instructed. “And perhaps he will reconsider, but be polite when you ask him, Alec.”

The boy hesitantly looked up at the soldier, craning his neck back as far as it would go. “Can I stay . . . please?”

“Milady?” Dylan asked.

“I would be happy for his company.”

“Then you may stay inside for a little while, Alec, but you mustn't interfere. Can you promise me that you won't?”

Alec nodded. “I promise,” he said, then leaned into Gillian.

Annie stood beside her, watching her closely. She was ready to begin, yet continued to wait. “Are you feeling a bit sleepy, milady?” she inquired casually.

“Not overly,” she replied.

Annie glanced at the laird. “Perhaps I should wait another minute or two.”

Gillian looked up at the men surrounding her and noticed that Annie's husband was yawning every other minute, but then the soldier named Robert also yawned, and she couldn't decide which one was actually getting drowsy. Then Kevin began to sway.

“Annie, would you please ask your husband to sit down?”

Kevin heard her request and, blinking furiously, tried to make sense of it. “Why would I want to be sitting down, lass?” he asked.

“So you won't have so far to fall.”

No one understood her suggestion until Kevin suddenly pitched forward. Fortunately, one of Brodick's soldiers was quick on his feet and caught him before his head struck the edge of the table.

“Ah, lass, you switched goblets, didn't you?” a soldier asked.

“She drugged Kevin?” another soldier asked, grinning.

Gillian could feel her face burning and concentrated intently on the tabletop while she tried to think of a proper apology to give Kevin's wife.

Startled by such trickery, Annie turned to the laird. Brodick shook his head as though in disappointment, but there was a definite sparkle in his eyes and voice when he said, “It seems Kevin drugged himself. Toss him on the bed, Aaron, and let's get this done. Annie, we need to be on our way.”

She nodded, and with trembling hand she put her knife to Gillian's arm. Brodick tightened his hold on Gillian's wrist just before she felt the first prick of the blade cutting through her tender skin. At first Gillian let him know she thought he was overreacting, yet once Annie began to probe the wounds, she was glad for his anchor. The need to flinch
was instinctive, but Brodick's grip wouldn't allow any movement at all.

The treatment wasn't nearly as awful as she had anticipated. Her arm had been throbbing from the pressure of the infection swelling beneath the surface of her inflamed skin, but once the wounds were opened, she felt immediate relief.

Alec squeezed under her right arm and clung to her. Frightened, he whispered, “Does it hurt bad?”

“No,” she answered quietly.

When he saw how calm she was, the tension eased out of him. Curious, he asked, “Does it hurt as bad as when that man punched you in the face?”

“Hush, Alec.”

“But does it?” he pestered.

She sighed. “No.”

Annie had been cleaning the wounds with clean strips of cloth, but paused when Alec asked the question. “Someone struck you, milady?” she asked. The sweet woman looked so appalled, Gillian immediately tried to reassure her.

“It was nothing, really,” she insisted. “Please don't concern yourself.”

“This man . . . who was he?” Annie asked.

The room grew deadly quiet while everyone waited to hear her response. She shook her head. “It isn't important.”

“Oh, but it is important,” Dylan said to a chorus of grumbled agreements.

“He was an Englishman,” Alec blurted out.

Nodding to indicate she didn't doubt the child's statement, Annie picked up another cloth and resumed her task of cleaning the wounds. Gillian winced from the discomfort, unaware that she was now gripping Brodick's hand.

“I knew he had to be English,” Annie grumbled. “I don't
know of any Highlander who would raise his hand against a woman. Nay, I don't.”

Several soldiers nodded their agreement. Desperate to change the subject, Gillian latched onto the first thought that came into her mind. “It's a fine day today, isn't it? The sun is bright and the wind is mild—”

Alec interrupted her. “The man was drunk, terrible drunk.”

“Alec, no one wants to hear the particulars—”

“Ah, but we do want to hear,” Brodick drawled out, his mild voice belying what he was truly feeling. He tried to be patient, but his need to hear the full story from start to finish was driving him to distraction. What kind of a madman would prey on such a gentle lady and a little boy? Alec had already painted a dark picture of the horror he'd survived and had let them all see a glimmer of the courage Gillian had shown. Aye, he wanted all the details, and he decided that he would hear the full tale before nightfall.

“He was drunk, wasn't he, Gillian?” Alec pestered.

She didn't answer him, but the boy wasn't deterred. Since she hadn't actually forbidden him to talk about the beating, he decided to tell everything he knew.

“Uncle Brodick, you know what?”

“No, what?”

“The man, he hit her with his fist and knocked her clear off her feet to the ground, and then you know what he did? He kicked her and kicked her and kicked her. I got real scared, and I tried to make him stop, but he wouldn't.”

“How did you try to make him stop?” Dylan asked.

Alec lifted his shoulders. “I don't know,” he admitted. “Maybe I cried.”

“Annie, are you almost finished?” Gillian asked.

“Just about,” the woman answered.

“And then you know what? I threw myself on top of Gillian, but she pushed me away, and then you know what she did? She rolled on top of me and put her hands on my head so I wouldn't get kicked none.”

“What happened then, Alec?” Liam asked.

“She patted me and told me to hush 'cause she said it was going to be all right. She wouldn't let nobody hurt me. She didn't neither,” he added. “I never once got kicked.”

Gillian wanted to put her hand over Alec's mouth. The men looked horrified by what the child was telling them, but their gazes were locked on her. She felt ashamed and embarrassed by what had happened.

“Was it just one Englishman who touched Lady Gillian?” Robert asked. “Or were there others?”

“Another man hit her,” Alec said.

“Alec, I wish you wouldn't—” Gillian began.

“But he did hit you, don't you remember? The man kicked you, and then the other man hit you. How come you don't remember?”

She bowed her head. “I remember, Alec. I just don't want to talk about it.”

The boy turned to Brodick. “You know what she did after he hit her? She smiled just to make him mad.”

Annie gathered up her cloths and put them aside on one of the stools, then spread a thick towel under Gillian's arm. “Laird, I'm finished cleaning out the infection.”

Brodick nodded. “The boy's hungry. He would appreciate a piece of your bread if that isn't too much trouble.”

“Maybe with honey on it,” Alec suggested.

Annie smiled. “Of course with honey.”

“You must eat it outside,” Brodick ordered. “Robert will go with you and see you don't get into mischief.”

“But, Uncle Brodick, I want to stay with Gillian. She needs me, and she might get lonely.”

“I'll keep her company,” he promised. “Robert?”

The soldier moved forward. Alec saw him coming around the table and pressed closer to Gillian. She leaned down and whispered, “I'll call out to you if I need you.”

She had to promise on her mother's heart before Alec was convinced that she wouldn't disappear if he left her for a few minutes. Then he snatched the bread from Annie's hand and ran out the doorway, forgetting in his haste to thank her properly.

“He'll remember his manners later and then thank you,” Gillian said. “I appreciate your patience with him. He's just a little boy and he's been through a very difficult time.”

“But you got him through it unharmed.” Dylan made the comment from behind her and once again put his hands on her shoulders. She wasn't sure if he was offering her praise and comfort or making sure she didn't try to escape.

Annie appeared a moment later with an oblong pan of foul-smelling brew she'd heated over the fire. She held the pan with a thick rag she'd wound around the iron handle and tested the warmth of the liquid with the tip of her finger.

“It isn't too hot, milady, but it's going to hurt something fierce. If you need to scream . . .”

“She will not make a sound.” Brodick repeated the comment in a firm, no nonsense voice.

The arrogant man sounded as though he were stating a fact, and she couldn't help but be a little perturbed with his high-handed manners. She should be the one to decide if she were going to be brave or not. Why did he think it was his decision to make?

Annie continued to hover, looking frightened and
unsure. Gillian glanced up. “Why is your treatment called mother's fire?”

She asked the question a scant second before Brodick nodded to the woman and she poured the liquid over Gillian's open wounds. The pain was instantaneous, horrific, consuming. Her arm felt as though it had been flayed and then dipped in lye. Her skin was on fire, the flames shooting down to her bone. Her response was just as instantaneous. Her stomach lurched, her head spun, and her vision blurred. She would have leapt out of the chair if Dylan and Brodick hadn't been holding her down. Dear God, the excruciating agony wouldn't let up. After the first spasm of wrenching pain, her skin began to throb and pulsate, and her arm felt as though hot embers were embedded in her wounds. Arching her back against Dylan, she took deep, gasping breaths, squeezed her eyes shut to hold her tears back, clenched her jaw tight so she wouldn't scream out loud, and gripped Brodick's hand with all her might.

Had he shown her a glimmer of sympathy, she would have broken down and sobbed like a baby, but when she looked at him for help and saw his calm, dispassionate expression, she was able to regain her control.

Realizing she was pressing against Dylan, she forced herself to sit forward in the chair. But she couldn't stop squeezing Brodick's hand, though God knows she tried. Just when she was certain she couldn't take another second of the torture, it began to ease.

“The worst is over, lass,” Annie whispered in a voice that sounded as though she, too, wanted to have a good cry. “Now I'm going to put some soothing salve on your skin and wrap it up tight in a nice bandage. Is the pain easing yet?”

Gillian tried, but she found it impossible to speak just yet, and so she stiffly nodded. She stared beyond Brodick's
shoulder, focusing on a splinter of wood in the far wall, and prayed she wouldn't pass out.

Annie worked quickly, and within minutes Gillian's arm was covered in a thick white ointment and then wrapped from elbow to wrist. It was awkward work, for Gillian still refused to let go of Brodick's hand. Now that the pain was bearable, she realized he was rubbing her palm with his thumb. His countenance hadn't changed, but the little caress had a powerful effect. She felt as though he had taken her into his arms and was holding her.

After Annie tied the ends of the bandage at her wrist, Gillian took one last calming breath and finally pulled her hand away from Brodick's.

“There, it's done,” Annie whispered. “You'll be as fit as ever tomorrow. Please try not to get the injury wet for a couple of days.”

Gillian nodded again. Her voice was hoarse when she thanked the woman for her help.

“If you'll excuse me for a moment,” she began as she slowly stood up. Dylan took hold of her elbow and helped her. She sagged against him, slowly righted herself, and then inclined her head to Annie before she left the cottage. The soldiers bowed as she passed them.

Gillian was certain they watched her from the doorway, and so she didn't give in to the urge to run to the cover of the trees. Alec was skipping barefoot in the stream while Robert stood guard. Fortunately, the child didn't notice her when she hurried in the opposite direction or hear her when the first sob escaped.

Liam frowned with concern as he watched her leave, then turned back to Annie. “Is there any of that mother's fire left?”