Ransom (54 page)

Everyone else had gone to sleep, and the ground was covered in a maze of plaids. Ramsey and Brodick sat in front of the fire with their heads bent, their whispered conversation grave. Ramsey continuously stirred the embers with a long, crooked stick as though looking for a forgotten object, while Brodick gazed at some distant point in the darkness, nodding every now and again at what Ramsey was saying.

Gillian moved her head slightly and stared at Brodick's chiseled profile. She could see the tenseness in his shoulders, and though he sat motionless now, she felt as though he was about to spring.

Bridgid nudged her and whispered, “Ramsey thinks he's done a terrible injustice to the MacPhersons because he
thought one of them was responsible for taking Alec Maitland. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Gillian answered. “I'll explain later. Keep listening.”

“I am,” she whispered back, and a minute later she turned to Gillian again. “He said that when he came home and challenged for the position of laird, he made an error in judgment by allowing the old guard to stay in place. He acted out of kindness, and that was a mistake.”

Bridgid continued to listen and after a while, Gillian nudged her again.

“Ramsey says he's going to stop procrastinating. He's . . . Oh, God.”

“What?”

The look on Bridgid's face showed how devastated she was. “He's going to marry Meggan MacPherson.” Her voice trembled.

“Oh, Bridgid, he's the one, isn't he? He's the man you love.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “'Tis true. I do love him, and I have for the longest time.”

Gillian took hold of her hand. “I'm so sorry.”

Bridgid wiped a tear from her eye. “Men are stupid.”

“Yes, they are,” Gillian agreed. “What's Brodick saying?”

“He's trying to talk Ramsey out of it. He just advised him to think long and hard before he makes such a commitment.”

“He didn't practice what he's now preaching,” she whispered. “And he's very upset with me.”

“He must be,” she replied. “He just told Ramsey that marriage is a sacrifice.” A minute later she whispered, “Now that doesn't make sense.”

“What?”

“Ramsey said that in Brodick's case the sacrifice was worth it because he got the Englishmen's names. Do you know what he's talking about?”

Gillian was suddenly furious. “Yes, I do. Is Ramsey saying he believes Brodick married me just to get the names of the Englishmen?”

“What Englishmen?”

“I'll explain later,” she promised. “Tell me. Is that what he says?”

Realizing how agitated her friend was, she hastened to answer. “Yes, Ramsey did say that, and your husband just agreed.”

Gillian closed her eyes. “I don't want to hear any more.”

“What's wrong?” Bridgid whispered. “You can tell me. I'm your dearest friend, aren't I?”

“You're my only friend,” she answered. “I'm not going to believe it.”

“Believe what?”

“That Brodick married me to get the names of the Englishmen. No, I won't believe it. No one would get married for such a reason. It's sinful.”

Bridgid thought about what Gillian had just said, and then whispered, “Did these Englishmen insult one of the lairds?”

“Insult? Oh, Bridgid, they did something much worse.”

“Then I'll tell you this. You don't poke a bear in the eye and expect to walk away unscratched. They will get even. The men here never forget a wrong done to them, and they will go to great lengths to get what they want.”

“I still refuse to believe that Brodick only married me to get the names. No, I won't believe it. Marriage is a holy sacrament, and he wouldn't . . . no, he wouldn't do that. He's speaking out of anger now. That's all there is to it.”

“Did he ask you for the names of these Englishmen before you were married?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn't tell him?”

“No, I didn't.” In frustration she added, “And even after we were married, I made him promise he wouldn't retaliate until I had accomplished my task. Then I gave him the names. He gave me his word, and I trust him to keep it. I know he cares for me. He's just too stubborn to admit it. He told me he felt a responsibility for me.”

“Of course he cares for you.”

“Maybe Brodick will talk Ramsey out of marrying Meggan MacPherson.”

“No, I don't think so. Ramsey sounded as though he'd already made up his mind. He's putting the interests of the clan above his own, and that's as it should be because he's laird. He'll do what he thinks is right. I don't think I can stand watching him with her, though. I had already made up my mind to leave, and now I realize I must leave soon.”

“Where will you go?”

Bridgid closed her eyes. “I don't know. I cannot stay in the servants' quarters. The new mistress won't like it.”

“Maybe your mother will let you come back home.”

“No. She's made it clear she doesn't want me around. No one does,” she added, knowing she sounded pitiful but too miserable to care. Dabbing a tear away from her eye, she whispered, “The fall I took has made me weepy.”

Gillian pretended to believe that nonsense. Ramsey was the reason Bridgid was brokenhearted. She shifted her weight to ease the throbbing in her thigh and closed her eyes. She fell asleep accepting that Bridgid was right. Men were stupid.

T
he first golden streaks of dawn were bursting onto the horizon when Brodick nudged Gillian awake. She had slept in his arms, though she had no memory of being moved during the night, and she was so sleepy she didn't want to cooperate. Snuggling under the blanket, she groaned, “Not yet,” and went back to sleep.

Bridgid had also been moved to a plaid blanket closer to the fire. Another plaid covered her, and when Ramsey squatted down next to her and saw how peaceful she was, he regretted having to wake her. She really was lovely, he thought, noticing for the first time how long her eyelashes were and how pure her complexion was. Her lips were full, rosy, and without a thought as to what he was doing, he brushed his thumb across her lower lip.

She batted his hand away as though he were a pest and grumbled something in her sleep he couldn't quite make out, but he was sure he heard the word “stupid.”

“Open your eyes, Bridgid. It's time to get going.”

She didn't wake up happy. “Do leave me alone,” she mumbled.

Brodick stood over Gillian, wondering why the hell she
wouldn't obey him, and once again ordered her to get up.

“Maybe we ought to throw them in the creek,” Ramsey suggested. “That will wake them up.”

Bridgid took the threat to heart and sat up. Shocked to find Ramsey so close to her, she leaned back on her elbows to put some distance between them. She knew she looked a sight. Her hair hung down over her eyes, and she squinted up at him, wondering how he could look so incredibly . . . perfect . . . at this ungodly hour of the morning.

Brodick pulled Gillian to her feet but didn't let go of her until he was certain she could walk. Her leg stung with each movement, but she suffered in silence, knowing that if she gave a single complaint, she'd hear another blistering lecture about her reckless behavior.

“Are you still angry with me, Brodick?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” she whispered, “because I'm furious with you.”

Head held high, her attitude haughty, she took a step toward the creek, but her leg wouldn't support her. She would have fallen on her face if Brodick hadn't grabbed her.

“You can't walk, can you?”

“Of course I can,” she replied, her voice as surly as his had been when he'd posed the question. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go wash.”

Brodick watched her limp away to make certain he wasn't going to have to catch her again. Ramsey had given Bridgid a gentle shove to get her moving in the direction of the creek, and Brodick relaxed his guard when she assisted Gillian.

The women took their time. Gillian redressed her bandage, grimacing when she saw how bruised her thigh was. The wound wasn't bad at all, though, and was already closing.
Walking got rid of the stiffness, and by the time she and Bridgid returned to camp, they were both in much better spirits. Gillian wasn't limping much.

They set out for Ramsey's home right away. Gillian insisted she ride her own horse, and Brodick reluctantly agreed. Before long they reached the meadow and rode down the northern slope. To the west a fair distance away were the cliffs she and Brodick had ridden down the day they were married, and she remembered the foolish, carefree banter and the joy she had felt. Lord, it seemed an eternity had passed since then.

Her mind continued to wander as they crossed the meadow and neared the gate to Ramsey's holding. They were riding next to the wall when Gillian glanced up. A soldier suddenly appeared on the catwalk above. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart began to pound. Pulling on the reins, she forced the horse to stop and shouted, “Brodick.”

The man saw her and stepped back out of sight.

Brodick and Ramsey immediately turned back. “What's wrong?” Brodick demanded.

“Why did you stop?” Ramsey asked.

“Did you see the man up there on the catwalk? Did you see him, Ramsey?”

Brodick answered. “I saw him. It was Gideon. He's probably on his way to the gates now to meet Ramsey. You met him on the day we arrived. Don't you remember?”

She was frantically shaking her head. “No, Brodick, I didn't meet him.”

“Yes, you did,” Ramsey insisted.

“No, I didn't,” she cried out. “But I've seen him before. He's the man who betrayed you.”

R
amsey's battle cry rent the air, alerting the gatekeepers to call the men to arms. Within bare minutes every possible exit was sealed as tight as a tomb. Soldiers raced to the catwalks, their arrows already notched to their bows in preparation, as more of Ramsey's followers leapt upon their horses and galloped out into the valley to surround the perimeter of the holding. No one would get into the estate, and no one was going to get out.

Every able-bodied man came running to support their laird, and for the first time since the MacPhersons had joined the Sinclairs, there was no prejudice or rivalry. United, they stood together, five deep, in a wide circle around the courtyard, waiting and watching, with but one single intent—to protect Ramsey.

Gideon waited in the center of the courtyard with eleven other traitorous men, all Sinclairs, and all loyal to the man they believed should have been laird. Gideon was eager and confident. His moment had finally arrived, and soon now he would become laird of the Sinclairs, and he was anxiously looking forward to killing Ramsey. He believed that once Ramsey was dead, the clan would give him their loyalty.

Brodick ordered Liam and Aaron to take the women to the cottage, but Gillian countered his command with one of her own.

“You will stay and protect your laird.”

Brodick heard her and nodded his agreement. Gillian motioned to Bridgid then and took the lead to the cottage. She wanted to call out to Brodick, to tell him to be careful and not take any foolish chances, but his thoughts were on the battle ahead of him, and she didn't want to distract him. She prayed to God instead and asked Him to keep Brodick and Ramsey safe. When she turned to Bridgid, she saw her make the sign of the cross and knew she was doing the same thing.

Ramsey and Brodick leapt to the ground before their horses had stopped, and drawing their swords, they closed the distance.

Proster tried to follow his laird, but Dylan shoved him aside. “You haven't earned the right to protect your laird's back.”

“Then who will?” the soldier demanded.

“The Buchanans, of course. Watch and learn, boy.”