Ransom (42 page)

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 naïve. 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.”