Ransom

  “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 hi
m 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.”