Ransom (45 page)

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.”